The sun has set long ago, but the noise coming from over the hill has not died down in the slightest. Bonfires with marshmallows and meat over them and tables laden with wine are intermixed with hundreds of party guests, each with a bow and arrow across his back and a t-shirt that says ‘PARTY PONIES’. Some are wearing the most ridiculous accessories, while others act like they had way too much to drink from the start of the party and then kept drinking through the night anyway. To say the scene was crazy…would be the understatement of the gods’ reign.

A lone guest stands on the crest of the hill, looking over the scene. His name is Chiron, and he is one of the oldest and wisest of the centaurs. There was a day when he would have gladly joined the partying centaurs below him, but that day is long past. He may have heavy responsibilities and obligations now, but that does not mean he will not go and visit his ‘brothers’ once and a while. But sometimes he really wished they would not drink so much…

Chiron sees the inevitable before any of his inebriated friends. A centaur with a lyre and an obnoxiously large pink hat, complete with his electric green t-shirt, had stood too close to one of the bonfires and his tail was starting to smoke. Very quickly his tail caught fully on fire, the flames on his tail able to feed off themselves, but still the half-horse, half-man was oblivious to what was happening. One of the centaurs near the drunken horse swayed over too him and said in a slurred stupor, “Duuuuude, your tail. It’s like, on fire and stuff. Totally cool, man! You western ponies sure know how to party!”

His words knocked the endangered centaur right out of his little bubble. He glanced back at his tail and began to jump around, trying to put the flames out. Other ‘Party Ponies’ saw what he was doing and began jumping around too, thinking it was a new dance or something. It took a while for anyone else to realize the true reason why the jumping had started in the first place. Then, with many shoutings of “Duuuuude”, “Awesome, man!”, and “Party Ponies keeping it HOT”, other centaurs came to the aid of the one with the enflamed tail and successfully put out the fire.

With a damaged tail and equally damaged pride, the centaur hung his head and began to walk away from the party, the novelty lost on him. The other party guests watched as he walked towards where Chiron stood on the hill, then slowly began to return to their partying.

Chiron remained straight-faced as the younger centaur trudged up the hill to stand next to him. After a few minutes of silently watching the scene below them resume their festivities, the injured centaur turned to Chiron and asked, “Why is it always me?”

To which Chiron soberly replied, “Because you lack foresight.”

A volcano rises high above the green landscape, steam billowing from its top. Locals know to stay away from it, because even though it has been emitting continuously for years, it could blow at any moment without warning. What the locals do not know, however, is that that is not regular steam. The blackness in the air around the volcano is actually smoke from forges. Which means that that mass of earth is not technically a volcano, either.

Deep underground in the ‘volcano’, creatures can be seen scurrying around in a competitive fury. The rim of the open space is piled high with weapons, tools, and other equipment, still glowing and hot to the touch. As the creatures continue on their work, it becomes easier to divide them into two appearance groups. One group looks like they have faces like dogs, with black snouts, brown eyes, and pointy ears. Their bodies are sleek and black like seals, their legs are half flipper and half foot, and their human-like hands have sharp claws. A good way to describe them would be as if you blended together a Doberman Pinscher, a human child, and a sea lion together, the resulting creature would look like a Telekhine. Some of them look to be almost seven feet tall, barking and growling as they waddle around doing their work. Do not mistake their dog-like qualities or nickname ‘fish children’ for friendliness, however. Telekhines are vicious and merciless.

The other group is much smaller in number than the Telekhines, with only three of them working together. These beasts appear to be much larger, but look slightly closer to humans, if only barely. What causes other to stare, however, is not their height. It is their one hundred arms and legs, and fifty heads, each with a different facial expression. These three are brothers, and are known as Hekatonkheires, or ‘Hundred-Handed Ones’. Two of the brothers, Cottus and Gyges, look extremely tired and seem to shimmer in the light of the fires, as if they were slowly becoming transparent. The third brother, on the other hand, known as Briareus, looks strong enough to throw an entire mountain like he was back on the front lines. Many of Briareus’ faces show determination for the projects he is working on, but other faces show sadness and keep glancing towards his brothers. He knows that their tiredness and transparency are signs that they will soon fade, and this makes him heartbroken. He needs their help in crafting weapons and tools for gods and half-bloods, but he will also greatly miss them. He is afraid, too, that without his brothers to fight with him, Kampe will reform and force him back into Tartarus. So he distracts himself with his work, crafting as many items as he can so he can prove that Hekatonkheires are better than Telekhines any day.

The forge, once belonging to Hephaestus, was recently overtaken by the Telekhines. As part of a deal to get them to leave, the three Hekatonkheires bet them that they could make more weapons and equipment than the Telekhines in an hour, and whoever lost would leave the forge in the possession of the victors. So here they all were, welding, tinning, and smithing as fast as possible. Quality and quantity were equally important to Briareus and his brothers, but not to their opponents. Many of the weapons shattered when tossed onto the Telekhines’ pile, but they still counted each as a full and completed item.

The sundial in the center of the space showed only moments to go, and Briareus wished that he had some of his younger Cyclopes brothers to help him. But from the corner of their many eyes, Briareus and his brothers notice a small fire beginning to engulf some of the Telekhines’ finished items. It seemed that a younger ‘fish child’ had either left a fire unattended, or had been too ambitious in building his fire. Either way, the creature’s lack of wisdom and caution seemed that it would cost the Telekhines the competition. The three ‘Hundred-Handed Ones’ lay down their own tools and sat back to watch the Telekhines cry out at their poor fortune, chuckling to themselves and thanking the gods that they had the wisdom and patience to properly care for their fires and finished items. The three brothers shared a knowing look, one that spoke of how a centaur would react if one of them were there to witness that. A monotonous lecture on good planning and wise decisions, no doubt.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?
If a tree “falls” in a forest and no one is around to see it, does it still move?
If you can see it fall but do not hear a sound, and your friend can hear it fall but does not see it move, who is right and who is wrong?
Both. Now try the same thing, but with a tooth and with an eye.
Oh, those lovely Graeae…

……

A typical major city street, crawling with yellow cabs, pedestrians, and rats. Car horns honk in frustration as another green light turns to red and traffic remains where it has sat for the past three lights.

Lost among the crowds, a child stands on the edge of the sidewalk and mutters what sounds like gibberish to passerby. “Stêthi, Ô hárma diabolês!” At the same time, the child, who looks no older than twelve, flips a large golden coin into the air, allowing it to hit the ground. But…where did it go? It was almost as if the coin melted straight into the tarmac! But this is no ordinary child, nor is that a regular golden coin. And that muttering? It was actually ancient Greek for “Stop, Chariot of Damnation!“ But before anyone has time to take a second glance as the not-ordinary child, they disappear into nothingness. At least, to a mortal’s eye.

When the coin sunk into the tarmac, it didn’t melt. It was absorbed into the ground. And when the child disappeared from sight, it was through a similar method used by the thousands of people rushing by the same spot: the child entered a cab. Why couldn’t anyone see the cab, then? Well, for one thing, it certainly wasn’t your typical big city yellow cab. And as for a driver, this cab has three very special ladies.

Look at the scene from the child’s perspective. You need to get out of the city, and fast. You can’t take mortal transportation because monsters can track you easier that way. You can’t walk because that will take too long, and you are most likely not a child of Hades, so you can’t shadow travel. That leaves mythical methods, and the choices are few. You only option at this point is the Gray Sisters’ Taxi. Faaaaantastic. Especially after your last ride, when they almost split you in half when (again) the cab…ugh, never mind. Maybe another time.

As soon as you say those words and that coin reaches the ground, you feel the rumbling before you can hear or see the cab. The ground at your feet turns to molten tar and begins to bubble in sickening shades of red. Suddenly, a car erupts from the ooze. Not just a car, but a taxi. A smoky gray car that looked like it was woven out of smoke, like you could walk right through it. The doors read GRAY SISTERS. Accustomed to the dismal appearance and the following back door swinging opening on its own, you slide into the back seat, close the door behind you, and ignore the chain seat belts. You shudder just looking at the black rusted “seat belts”. The sisters must have had them since their last vehicle, which was a…prison wagon? Who can keep track anymore.

You say nothing as you sit on the back seat that hardly seems stable enough to even LOOK solid, let alone BE solid. An old woman sticks her head into the back, asking where you’d like to go, her voice mumbling and hard to distinguish, like she’d just taken a large dose of a drug. You give her the location, not making eye contact. Truthfully, the Gray Sisters freak you out. The three of them, all crammed in the front seat, each with stringy hair covering her face, bony hands, and a charcoal-colored sackcloth dress. The one driving floors the accelerator, and your head slams against the backrest as you steel yourself for the remainder of the ride.

The city blurs past as the taxi bumps over curbs, runs through red lights, and swerves through both sides of traffic. No one outside of the taxi notices the erotic and death-defying driving habits, which is probably for the best. The sister in the middle, now holding the coin that had previously disappeared into the tarmac, hold the coin greedily in her gnarled hand. The sister on the right smacks her and says, “Give me the coin, Wasp, I want to bite it! Plus, I have the tooth!”

“No, Anger, you bit it last time! It’s my turn” As Wasp and Anger argue over the coin and whose turn it was to have the tooth, Tempest continues to accelerate the cab. Tempest also currently has the eye, but when Anger gives up arguing with Wasp, she reaches over and grabs the eye from her sister. Now sightless, Tempest stumbles at the wheel for a moment. A large mailbox jumps out of the way to avoid being hit by the swerving cab.

“Give it back, sister! I need the eye to see where I’m driving!”

“But you’ve had it since lunchtime!”

“So? Unless you want to end up DEAD, give me back the eye! You already have the tooth, you can’t have both!”

As the three sisters continue to argue, you just sit in the back of the racing cab and pray to the gods that you’ll make it through this torturous drive again. To distract yourself, you read a sign on the back of the front seat: “Hold on to your jail -ell-chain-seat-belt demigod, this is guaranteed to be a mind-blowing ride (literally!)” No kidding. You just hope they don’t split the cab in half like last time.

You continue to sit quietly in the back of the death trap of a taxi as three blind and toothless sisters argue in the front seat over a single shared eye and tooth. The only comfort you feel during the ride comes from knowing that they haven’t made any weird predictions during the ride or rambled on about that Drakon/Dragon battle that ended in both beasts killing themselves by mistake.

None too soon, the cab screeches to a halt. You pay the sisters the remaining fare of drachmas, and gladly step out onto firm ground again before they can start making predictions on the next competition between the Hekatonkheires and Telchines. As you turn to slam the door, the annoying recording that plays after every ride pierces the air: “Thank you for choosing to ride on the Chariot of Damnation! We hope you ride with us again!”

No. Thank. You.

A sunken arena surrounded by rising boulders carved with seats is lit by green fire. The stands are filled with creatures of all different shapes, sizes, colors, and fierceness. One side of the stadium is waving red banners, the other side blue. In between the two sides sits a throne carved of stone and precious gems, with images of flaming beasts painted on every surface. The throne remains empty, a sign of lack of recent approval from the gods of the activities that occur here.

Red flames erupt on one end the the arena as a door opens and a beast emerges from the shadows of the space behind the door. Fans in red cheer as it enters the arena, the green light slowly revealing its features. Scales shimmer in the light as the long, thin body emerges. Four clawed feet grip the rocky ground as wings open and smoke is blown from its nostrils. Large red eyes glow amid golden scales, and its tail swipes around behind it, spikes threatening anyone who dares comes close. Beneath the smoking nostrils can be seen rows of glittering teeth, a sight that strikes fear in even the bravest of fighters.

Blue flames erupt from the other end of the arena, and now the blue side erupts into mayhem. A door opens, and the sound of something slithering across the rocks can be heard before any features can be seen. Like the first creature, this beast emerges with a long, thin body, its tail following along behind with the threat of striking anyone within reach. But this monster looks more like a giant serpent, and its beady eyes show that it is much older than its opponent. Venom drips from its teeth, and spectators lean back as the great creature turns its head to the side.

The first creature saunters towards the center of the arena, calling out to its opponent, “Ready for a little fight, you old-timer Drakon? Still got a little…fire left in you? Oh that’s right, you can’t breathe fire! Silly me. Ooooh, I better shield my eyes, otherwise you might BLIND me! Haha.”

The Drakon glares at his immature foe. “How DARE you disrespect your elder? Petty Dragon, all you can do is breathe fire and prance around with your little claws. I, a great Drakon, have been feared by mortals and immortals alike for eons more than you, and yes, I can kill you with a single look if I so choose. But why take all the fun out of the fight by ending it so soon?” The Dragon looks fearful for a moment before shaking it off and assuming a pose of attack.

“Bring it on, you old coot!”

Dragon and Drakon pause at each end of the arena, as if waiting for something. Then, a gong sounds from above, and each rushes toward the other, ready to attack. They meet in the middle, and in one fell swoop……

First – and understand this, ’cause it’s very important – not all creatures are good. Some of them go bad. And there are some that went as bad as they can go. When the titans reigned…it was dark times, dark times. The titans started to gather some followers from among the creatures, brought em’ over to the dark side. Creatures who stood up against them ended up dead, or worse, banished to the far reaches of the Earth. The gods fought against the titans and their allied creatures, but none survived when the gods decided to end them. None…not one…’cept those whom the gods deemed not as big of a threat.

(You can bet being demoted to minor threat status hurt some of the creatures’ prides! Especially those drakons and dragons, as if they needed another reason to fight…)

……

Land
Now some creatures that had joined the titans returned to the light side. A few stubborn ones refused to give in, but since they were usually of little threat, the gods found new purposes for them. One type of creature, the Hellhound, entered the service of Hades. Hellhounds are feared by half-bloods especially, except the children of Hades. Hellhounds have been portrayed as being extremely large mastiffs, but other details have varied from them being larger than grizzly bears, rhinos, and even garbage trucks, to having eerie glowing red eyes, or even large, reptilian-like teeth. One thing is certain though – the bark of a Hellhound is louder than artillery in battle. Hellhounds are also unique in that they can shadow travel – the ability to travel by slipping into the shadows and coming out somewhere else of their desire. The shadows are not exactly a physical place, but more of a tunnel concept, transporting the Hellhound (or child of Hades) from one point to another. It takes a lot of energy to shadow travel, but the method can prove extremely effective, especially when used to travel behind enemy lines (another reason it is feared by half-bloods: they can sneak up on you!) For those not familiar with this concept, think of as being able to apparate, as they do in Harry Potter. (Unless you’re a muggle or not a child of Hades, then you can’t, sorry.) Oh, and did I mention that children of Hades can also communicate with Hellhounds through their minds? And they’re not the only person-creature pair that can do that! Pretty cool, huh?

……

Water
If you ever saw a Hippocampus (pl. Hippocampi), you would think you were taking something illegal. A Hippocampus is multi-colored, with the body of a horse from the waist up, silvery fish bodies, glistening scales, and rainbow tail-fins. Hippocampi reside in the sea, and are under Poseidon’s rule. Children of Poseidon, whether man, cyclops, or other, are linked especially with the Hippocampus, and most children of Poseidon can communicate telepathically. Hippocampi are portrayed as having a friendly, peaceful personality, ready to help when called. Otherwise, Hippocampi are mysterious creatures – not much is known about them. But as mythical creatures, they certainly are curious…very curious…

……

Sky
First thing you wanna know about Pegasi, is that they’re very proud creatures, very easily offended. You do not want to insult a Pegasi. It may just be the last thing you ever do. While Pegasi are pretty to look at, they are vastly misunderstood creatures, Pegasi are. They have wild tempers and personalities you would have never thought could be associated with a creature so beautiful. Pegasi are overly sarcastic in communicating, they are extremely selfish, and they are SO stubborn. But Pegasi are also very brave and loyal to those they bond with. As the offspring of THE Pegasus, their honor is unquestionable. And if you’re a son or daughter of the sea god, you’re in luck! You can communicate with Pegasi (and horses, among other animals) through your mind! Look’s like Poseidon’s kids are two for three here, not bad! As I said before though, Pegasi are beautiful creatures. Their coats come in numerous colors, and the large, feathered wings on their backs spread wide and majestic while in flight. They are certainly a sight to behold.

……

Like I said before, not all creatures returned to the “light” side. But even some of those that did maintained their previous dispositions – i.e. Drakons are usually more destructive and have a curse (or curses) associated with them, while Dragons were powerful and strong and acted more as protectors. But like the gods, whenever a mythical beast is defeated, it is not gone forever. Nope, they’re still out there (usually in dust form in Tartarus), too tired to carry on. But one thing’s for certain – it’s changing out there. Just like last time (around the defeat of the titans). There’s a storm coming, and you all best be ready when she does.

A serene landscape worthy of being on a postcard spreads as far and wide as the eye can see. Light, fluffy white clouds float leisurely across the sky, a trickling creek flows into the blue ocean, and though the air is still, trees and flowers bend lazily where they stand. Not a soul can be found, yet there is a trace of laughter in the air…

A voice speaks: “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” A figure emerges from the trees, but she does not look entirely…there. Her shape looks more like a ghost, light and airy. Her ears look like those normally associated with an elf, and her hair has flowers and leaves woven throughout. She lives in her tree, a tree which is completely bonded to her- for if her tree was cut down, she would die and cease to exist. She is a tree nymph, a dryad.

Shimmering figures begin to emerge from the water, trees, and sky. The nymphs from the river are dressed in pale blue and silver, and the sea nymphs are clothed in teal and gold. As they walk towards the nymphs emerging from the trees, glittering nymphs can be seen floating down from the sky, dressed in all white. These are sky nymphs, or ourea, and they hide in the clouds, like the tree nymphs hide in their trees, and the water nymphs, the nereids, live within the rushing waters.

“Hello Juniper! What’s the latest?” asks a river nymph named Harmonia.

“I came here to warn everyone- the gods have approved waste dumping again!” Gasps can be heard all around, followed by cries of disbelief, anger, and uncertainty. “I know, I know, they never listen to our pleas. When will they learn that their dumping ruins the environment? Our homes? THEIR homes? They just do whatever is convenient for them.”

“Does this ban removal also include animal waste?” asks Harmonia. Juniper nods. “Oh no! The stuff he dumps in the river…what will happen to my beautiful home? It will become disgusting, I will get sick, and I might die! Whatever will I do?” Harmonia collapses in tears and frustration.

A sky nymph speaks up, “And what about the creatures that live within our realms? Whether hellhound, hippocampus, or pegasus, they all should be treated better.”

“But what can we do?” asks Juniper. “Nobody listens to us nymphs, or to Lord Pan. History shows us that the gods will never listen. All we can do now is hope.”

As the morning sun rises over fields filled with red cattle, a large mass crosses over a hilltop. His shadowy appearance has a gait that suggests he is carrying a heavy load, yet the outlines of two arms stick out sharply from his sides. As the sun rises higher, it creeps up along his figure, revealing thick ankles, two stiff legs, an unnaturally-wide body, and a weathered face. Wait…sweet nectar, he has three bodies! And each torso, though they are attached, seem to be wearing different-colored shirts, how strange…

The figure starts to grumble to himself, “Where is he…that good-for-nothing half-blood…my job to babysit him…son of a god and nymph…hmph.” He stomps his feet with each word, permanent craters remaining in his wake. Soon, the sounds of the cattle herd are discernible, as well as the sounds of two barking dogs. “QUIET, Orthrus! Enough of your yapping! I bet that idiot Eurytion forgot to feed you against, didn’t he? Typical.” Suddenly, from behind a hill emerges the source of the barking: a dog the size of a small car, with two heads.

“Yes, yes, alright calm down. Gods, here’s some breakfast for you.” From out of nothing he is holding a raw flank steak the size of a grown man. Orthrus wags his tail, bending down almost as if to play, until the steak is tossed behind him and distracts him. “There, that should keep you busy long enough for me to do my work. Not like I ever get any thanks for it though.” He looks up at a lone passing clod. “Hey Apollo, you ever think of thanking dear, dear Geryon for putting up with your cows? They’re not exactly pleasant creatures, you know.”

Blinding light filled the sky as he finished talking, causing Geryon to stumble and stutter. “Okay, okay. I get it.” The light receded. Under his breath, Geryon mumbled, “Think you’re all high and mighty, hmm? Try doing my job for a day. Watching that idot Eurytion for his father, Ares. Why’d the kid have to serve his punishment with me anyway? He’s newly-immortal, just pound him to dust, it’ll be a while before he shows back up again…”

At this, Geryon crosses the last hill before reaching the cattle enclosure. An overwhelming stench of cattle droppings and rotting meat makes Geryon’s eyes water, and even Orthrus doesn’t want to approach. “Oh great, just like yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. And the day…” His voice trails off. Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Geryon shouts into the sky, “EURYTION! COME CLEAN UP AFTER THE CATTLE NOW! And if you have to dump all their filth in the river like usual, just get it done FAST! I have more work for you to do!”

Geryon sighs and looks at Orthrus, who is gnawing on the bone leftover from his breakfast. “Whatever happened to you being vicious and demanding like you used to be? Well, you’re still just as demanding, that’s for sure.” Geryon turns to leave as footsteps can be heard in the distance, causing him to sigh and give a questioning look towards the sky.

“Kids.”

In what appears to be a dark, abandoned temple, in front of a damaged altar, three creatures can be seen pacing. Their large wings are spread, revealing their coal-black bodies, with snake-like hair and blood-shot eyes. Anger and hatred can be felt emanating from their very souls (if they had souls). Their appearance would strike fear deep into anyone who was unfortunate enough to cross paths with them, and a deep, fear-driven respect was held for them by all. People even feared to speak their names, instead referring to them as “The Kindly Ones”, lest they be their next target.

The creature in the center suddenly stopped pacing, frozen in place as her eyes locked in on a corner of the temple. “Do you ladies hear that? it sounds like we are not alone in our wait. I smell immortal blood. Reveal thyself, at once!” she spat, eyes blazing with fire.

The three she-creatures all united in staring at the shadowed corner, but no figure emerged. The creature on the right sighed in exasperation, “You are imagining things, sister. You are still distraught over Ares’ son being offered immortality.”

The center creature grew stiff at these words, then dawned a look of pure vengeance. “A treacherous act that one committed, and we are expected to let him get away from it? We are the Furies, we persecute those who have violated immortal law! We seek PUNISHMENT. We seek REVENGE. WE SEEK JUSTICE! I shall not be shoved aside by the whims of the gods, I am of older rank than them. I will not be silenced!”

The third Fury, who had yet to speak up, quietly added, “Sister, you can still seek your revenge on he who is called Eurytion. Just because he can never completely die and experience the torture of Hades does not mean we cannot seek to kill him.” Her voice grows louder. “In fact, we can kill him as many times as we want, because he will continue to come back! Such is the, ahem, blessing of being immortal.” She smirks as she speaks the last part, a glint of fire in her eyes.

At this, all three Furies rose, their bodies changing in the shadows of the temple. Wings shrunk, hair turned soft, and bodies grew arms and legs. Each Fury took on the appearance of a maiden, and as they changed, the temple changed as well. As if the previous appearance had been a sheet covering an ornate chair, the temple was suddenly filled with the light of numerous torches. The altar became covered in offerings, and statues of gold and precious gems appeared out of nowhere. To anyone who entered, the three women would have appeared to be three maiden priestesses bringing offerings to the gods.

“Come, my sisters. We have unfinished business with this new…immortal.” Three pairs of eyes gleamed like the flames in the torches behind them.

A thick mist parts to reveal a wooden dock barely standing along an onyx coastline. The shores are packed with beings, all moaning and moving lifelessly towards the dock. At the end of the dock is a ferry, in worse shape than the dock. A tall beast-like figure towers over the masses, arms crossed. Such a beast has never been named, for it so closely resembles a human but is so feared by living mortals that none dare go near it. For this is the beast whom delivers the dead to their fate.

Of course, humans are usually wrong in their perceptions of character, right?

“Geez, you are all such whiney babies. You would think that you were in a rush to get to the other side. Why? You people are DEAD, and on the other side is your judgment!” He rolls his eyes in a way that a 21st-century teenager would refer to as a ‘major eye roll’.

“I could just dump you all in the River Styx, that would take care of my problems. You’d all burn into ashes and then MAYBE I could get some peace and quiet.” His eyes narrow towards a group of Trojans eyeing the river with mouths gaping. “Hey, you! Yes, you! Don’t you dare try to copy Achilles, one immortal human is more than plenty for the next millennium! Sheesh.” The Styx rumbles menacingly. “Oh great, another oath on the Styx. Just another piece of garbage to pollute the river.” A closer look at the river shows children’s toys, art, food, and money flowing with the current. They are the remnants of people’s dreams, promises, and oaths. A suspicious human-looking mass passes by, and the Trojans flee from the bank.

“Now then, who’s next to board? Have your drachmae ready! Otherwise it’s another hundred years for you! Oh, if I could just keep some of these drachmae, Hades doesn’t pay me very much and I’d really like to visit the human world. He’d never have to know…”

“CHARON! Don’t make me send the FURIES over your way!”

Charon’s monstrous head cowers in fear, his beastly hands shaking. He tightens his cloak around him, raising his hood. He now looks like the stereotypical image of death, waiting to greet you on the banks of the After Life. For he is Charon, the non-human (but human wanna be) ferryman of Hades. And he is scared to death of the Furies.

In the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the raging, wild sea, was an island inhabited by a creature feared by man and beast alike. With only his sheep to keep him company, this creature ate anyone and anything that dared to land on his island. He did have a preference for satyrs over all else, however…

……

With his one large, glaring eye, Polyphemus surveyed his island as the sun rose on the horizon. “Soon I’ll have to let my sheep out to graze, they’re probably so hungry already, the wee lovelies.” Polyphemus’ eye glanced at the river that divided his island in half. Cliffs stretched fifty feet high on both sides of the river, and from his vantage point on the top of the island he could see the tip of a ship’s mast. The ship had arrived late the night before, while Polyphemus was herding his sheep home, and had not escaped his notice. But since there had been no activity since then, Polyphemus had decided to wait until the next day before investigating.

“Maybe there’ll be lots of men on board for me to snack on! I hope they’re half-bloods, their blood tastes sweeter than a yucky mortal’s. YUM!”

Polyphemus turned to roll the ginormous rock away from the entrance to his cave, which he called his “pretty home”. His sheep came rushing out, bleating and shoving their way to the fields to graze. “Run, my lovelies! Enjoy this beautiful day! We will eat good tonight me thinks. I smell…BLOOD!”

At that moment, several heads appeared on the cliff-side. A dozen men crawled over the edge, lugging their spears and shields on their backs. Their leader stood, took one glance at Polyphemus’ gleaming, single eye in the center of his forehead, and turned to his men. “We’ll have to trick him,” he said, “or else we won’t survive the morn.” He then turned to Polyphemus.

“Greetings, Cyclops! My name is No One, and I come here as a friend. We are Greeks, traveling home from war, and seek food and drink to replenish our stores. Might you extend me the honor due a house-guest and pay tribute to the gods in thanks that we were fortunate to land on your island? For I see you have sheep and goods to spare. Would you consider sharing with us? Then we and our possessions shall be on our way.”

During his speech, Polyphemus had been standing rigid, eye closed, nose upturned, sniffing the air. All of a sudden, he opened his eye and yelled at the travelers, “YOU LIE! You may be Greek, but you are NOT men. My nose never lies. I…smell…SATYR!” He rushed the men, scattering them in all directions. A large club smeared with blood had been resting near the cave entrance, but not swung freely in Polyphemus’ hand. With several particularly loud “thuds”, the club knocked the men onto the ground, knocking off their boots and helmets, exposing hooves and horns.

“YOU LIED TO ME, NO ONE! NO ONE LIED TO ME!” One exposed satyr attempted to escape toward the cliffs while Polyphemus was bellowing, but Polyphemus quickly picked him up and flung him over his shoulder. “You tricked me, No One! Now you all DIE. I will eat you all, starting with this delicious-looking SATYR right here!”

The man-satyr called ‘No One’ acted quickly, grabbing a broken branch off the ground. He jumped onto Polyphemus’ back, causing Polyphemus to stumble. He used this to his advantage, swinging around so that he was hanging off Polyphemus’ neck and looking straight into his eye. “You will NOT eat my friend,” he bleated. “Today, we will all leave here as we came, but you…you will not forget me.” And just as suddenly as he had launched his original attack, ‘No One’ thrust the branch into Polyphemus’ eye, blinding him.

Polyphemus screamed in pain, dropping the satyr on his shoulder. The satyrs/men ran towards the cliffs as Polyphemus stumbled and attempted to follow them by smell alone (His ability to detect smells was always very strong). As they repelled off the cliff, Polyphemus had the last word:

“I SWEAR TO THE GODS ON THE RIVER STYX THAT I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE ON NO ONE!”

A small girl sits beside a fireplace. Her clothes are worn and covered in ashes, and her hair is pulled back with a faded scarf. Her body is small and frail, and her face is hollow and there are shadows around her eyes. Beside her rests a large porcelain jar with images of different gods and a woman on it. The girl sighs as she stokes the dying flames.

“The fire grows colder every moment. As the fighting grows stronger and the bonds grow weaker, so do the flames. They reflect the status of the immortal world. As people forget about us or stop believing in us, then too does the fire die. When no one believes in us, we fade away. When there is no one to keep the spirit going or to fill the halls of Olympus, then where are we? WHAT are we? We are nothing.

Right now, my fellow Olympians are off at war. Even though my brother tries to use politics to maintain control, war is almost always an inevitable outcome. My former fellow Olympians I guess I should say, since I ceded my seat to Dionysus so as to keep peace on the council. He has yet to thank me for doing so, but I am not worried about that right now. I am more concerned with keeping the family together, at any cost.

I am the least of the Olympians. When something is going on, I am left out of the excitement. This can be good during war because it means I would not be involved or threatened. But because of my ‘lower status’, I am not a welcome addition at council meetings. If I am in the room, it is only by my fire. I am seen but not heard.

I watch over the house and home of the Greek people and of all who believe in us. I am the silent peacekeeper among my dueling family. Why? Because I care. When so much has been taken from me – my rank, my throne, my power, my dignity, my voice, and so on – I remain to keep my family together. That is all that remains for me to do, and I do this with all I have.”

She gazes into the flames, watching them spark and dance. For the first time, her eyes are clearly visible. They look like flames themselves, flaming red and flickering in the light. But they are cozy and welcoming and loving eyes.

“I would never do anything to risk war in my family. I have never married, nor will I have children. Demigods always bring trouble between their godly parents, even if they do not mean to, the innocent children. Their parents brought their fate upon them, and they must suffer because of it. These children should be nurtured, not abandoned. They are left out on their own, no hearth to welcome them home. When they lose hope, they lose all. That is why I am here.”

She glances to the jar by her feet.

“This is Pandora’s box, trusted to me by a hero. All that remains in it is hope. He gave it to me as an offering because ‘hope survives best at the hearth’. So I watch over it, keeping it safe and protecting hope for all those who need it. That is why I stay behind, tending the fire. Because when all else fails, when the other mighty gods are off at war, or when someone loses hope, I am all that remains. Hearth. Home. Hope.”

Hestia resumes her place at the hearth, continuing to stoke the fire and keep watch over Hope.

“I am the last Olympian.”

Clouds loom overhead, the sky a downcast grey. A fisherman stands along a rocky shore, his fishing rod extended farther than the eye can see. The man is dressed in a faded Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts, and worn sandals. His curly black hair and beard are streaked with grey and his face is covered in wrinkles. His eyes are a dull sea green, strikingly identical to the water stretched out before him. His rod suddenly bends down toward the lapping waves, distorted by the strong force pulling on it. The man tightens his grip and begins to reel in his catch. Far off in the distance, a shadow leaps out of the water. The man continues to reel in the line. Once again the shadow leaps from the waves, but this time it is close enough to determine what kind of creature it is, and just how large it is. The fish is not a fish, exactly. Stretching longer than twenty horses and taller than ten drakons, the creature is mammoth
But the man just shakes his head and cuts the line with a broken shell.

“Just a baby, that one. I only take the ones that are past their time, it is not proper to do so before that. Glad to see the population is growing though. Now I know my efforts to rebuild their habitat has proven fruitful. It is comforting to know that with a little TLC, anything is possible.” Gazes towards the spot where the sea creature had just disappeared. “Now onto my next project. Hopefully this time I can complete it without someone intervening. I’m sorry, ‘offering advice’, she calls it. Athena may be the goddess of wisdom, but she is no help when it comes to maintaining a kingdom, much less my kingdom. But she means well.”

His sigh is deep enough to reach the bottom of his watery realm. “Things are not going well in my kingdom. Even the sky can feel my mood, and I don’t have any control over my brother’s domain. The fish are dying, my palace is in ruins, and the seas are littered with debris. These wars that my family members are so involved in have cost me dearly, not that they’d ever apologize or offer to help me repair things. I have spent my time trying to keep the peace between the gods that I cannot attend reach in my own matters.”

Poseidon mumbles a few words, and suddenly fish in multitudes begin to jump out of the water.

“There, now I can finally attempt to fish. I’ll throw them all back of course, but what else is there for me to do right now? Whatever I create only gets destroyed. Once the fighting finally subsides for a while, though, I plan to rebuild my palace with the finest coral, shells, and pearls of the seas. It will be a sight unlike any other. And anyone who wishes shall be welcome to visit, provided they know how to breathe underwater!” He chuckles to himself.

“One day, these waters will once again be aqua blue, these waves will crash with might on the shore, and the creatures and spirits living in the depths will live in harmony. Ah, how I can only dream. It would seem that disagreement and discourse will never dissipate, not even between the oysters and the clams.But ooh, the jokes I’ve made surrounding their fights!” He holds his side as he laughs out loud.

“Being the ‘God of the Sea’, ‘Earth-Shaker’, and ‘Tamer of Horses’ is a powerful, and very busy, job. But all of my responsibilities allow me to travel to places most can only imagine. I prefer sea travel to get me where I need to go, but when I am called on by those who are loyal to me, I always answer, and will do so until there is no one left who believes in me.

But for now, it is time I returned home. Time doesn’t stop, even for an immortal.”

Poseidon’s fishing pole shimmers, then turns into a glistening 8-foot tall golden trident. His clothes melt away, leaving a majestic tail of vibrant blue and green. Poseidon himself rises up into the sky, growing taller and taller. On his head appears a golden tri-pointed crown, and on his arms wide golden bracelets. Poseidon then raises his hands, and immediately the sea begins to churn. The surface of the water begins to foam, and beautiful multicolored shells begin to appear on the shore when the waves recede. Once the foam begins to disappear, the water is a shimmering clear aqua. Poseidon’s eyes now gleam, having changed to the same bright aqua as the sea. Poseidon leaps high into the air, then disappears beneath the water’s surface without a trace. He had gone home.

I know we were supposed to use a different method of publication for this post, but I had no idea how to do that with my topic of stories about the Greek gods. If anyone has any suggestions for future posts though I absolutely welcome them, thanks! 🙂

A stern-looking woman sits at a worn table. She stares at charts and blueprints, her gaze focused and determined. Beside her rests a gleaming shield and spear, ready at a moment’s notice. The woman herself exudes wisdom and knowledge, and the way her fingers glance over the charts makes her seem as if all this planning is nothing new to her. A quick glance at the documents on the table shows that they are battle plans for some unknown location, and the blueprints bear the mark of Hephaestus. The woman sighs and puts down the charts, running her fingers through her ruly, unkempt hair.

“These latest plans from my brother for a new weapon should prove to be effective in this war, as long as the warriors continue to fight and do not lose hope. I have long supported my faithful in their war, but even I cannot ignore the wise maneuvers the other side has made. Their use of ships to sneak up behind the camp would have brilliant as well, if only they hadn’t ruined their stealth approach by exclaiming in glee at their ingenuity. Ah, the toils of war. Sometimes I am amused by what the mortals come up with. They think they can outsmart each other AND the gods. Well…we’ll just have to see about that, now won’t we?

I do prefer a more clandestine approach when it comes to the affairs of my followers, though. Father does not like it when I interfere too much, but I feel it is my duty to see that the wisest and smartest option takes place. There is a line that I observe, however. I do not get involved in messy business, nor do I interfere with fate. Even when it is the fate of my children, they must learn when to go out and fight their own battles. I only give aid when I deem it appropriate.

Take this war, for example. The people on both sides are dear to me, but only one may prove victor. How can I decide between the two? How do I assist both sides in making wise and strategic wartime decisions when I am torn? The pain of having to choose often signals the downfall of a cause, whether I like it or not. Or even yet, not getting involved at all. Although this battle holds particular meaning for me, as its result will prove a turning point in the war. Both sides have made foolish mistakes in attempting to surprise their opponent, and if it were not for my intervention…actually…”

Athena looks up, a spark of inspiration in her eye. She tightens her armor, then examines the battle charts in front of her with new zeal.

“I wonder…if I move that regiment here…yes…and those chariots there…yes…and move that…here…YES. I’ve got it! I’ve finally found a way to put an end to this bloody battle at Marathon! Now to convince Poseidon to cause a storm on the coast, and I’ve won the battle for Athens!”

Athena quickly attaches her shield over her armor and picks up her spear. She then hurries out the door, her modified battle plans in hand.

A man emerges from the bowels of a workshop, the air filled with thick black smoke. The workshop itself is every craftsman’s dream – infinite levels of tools, workbenches, and junk heaps as far as the eye can see. Modern technology is mixed with ancient relics, and all show signs of being tinkered with. The man himself emerges from the shadows of the smoke, and his features become more prominent. His body is hunched over and deformed, unfortunately due to his mother’s throwing him off of a cliff. His hands are large and calloused, reflecting years of hard work. The creases in his face are permanently etched with soot and sweat, but his eyes…his eyes show wisdom and experience and knowledge, yes. But there is also a glimmer of…laughter?

“Haha ooooh boy, they have NO idea what they’re in for. Of course, they deserve much worse than that. You would think that after eons of falling into my traps, my cheating wife and her nefarious ‘boyfriend’ would learn. But nooooo, they still insist on going behind my back, behind my trust. It breaks my heart every time. If I wasn’t immortal, my heart would have broken into too many pieces to support me a long time ago.”

He gazes into the distance, his eyes focused on nothing.

“At least I still have my workshop to keep me company. All of these gadgets and trinkets look like junk to others, but to me each is a gem. Trash to someone, treasure to me. Plus, no one can find me here. I like to keep my workshop location a secret so I’m not constantly being bothered by people asking me to fix every little thing. I need peace and quiet you know, I need to be able to focus. I can’t build or fix things without being able to focus. I also come up with my own original designs, some of which have very useful purposes for me.”

Suddenly, he begins to grow angry again. His eyes light up with flames, and his hands begin to crush miscellaneous objects he picks up. Smoke begins to come out of his ears, nose, and mouth.

“But Aphrodite and Ares really like to ruin my concentration every chance they get. They love to mess with my mind and my heart, and it hurts deeply that they feel as if they can toy with my emotions. That is why I mess with THEM in return. Glad to know that my design and tinkering skills come in handy for more than Zeus’ latest whim. All of the secret traps I set up are done so to catch them in embarrassing situations, which is then broadcast throughout the entire immortal world! That way everyone can know about my wife’s constant infidelity with that obnoxious, backstabbing, heartless brute.”

He closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and then looks up. Smoke is no longer coming out out his head, his eyes have returned to normal, and his face appears much calmer.

“But I always have my work. My tools are always ready, and there is always a new project to work on. I can work with celestial bronze and mortal iron alike, and there is nothing I can’t fix. You could say I’m good with my hands. I am especially skilled at creating new and more protective battle armor, although Athena is never happy with what I design. My last set was cast with celestial bronze and gold, and when you put it on, you can’t even feel the armor you are wearing, it is so light and flexible. But it works, don’t doubt me there. I would never risk someone’s life with dangerous or faulty equipment. I put all of my designs through test phases, and only if they pass every test I can come up with will I send them on to Olympus.”

A loud bang can be heard from above, followed by a shower of sparks and metal shavings. A ringing noise sounds throughout the workshop, but Hephaestus just groans.

“Oh dear, that’ll be my new Hekatonkheire assistant. I wonder what he did this time…”

Nothingness stretches as far as the eye can see, the land as barren as the empty blue sky above it. Far off in the distance a cloud of dust appears, accompanied by a loud roar. A motorcycle with two riders becomes visible, racing across the desolate landscape at a neck-breaking speed. The riders, one male and one female, could not look more different; One looks prepared for war, the other looks as if they just stepped off a fashion runway. The man glances behind him at the woman.

“You know, my dear, we really need to find less…uninhabited locales…for our future dates. We are gods, for Hades’ sake!” The ground rumbles at his words. “Oh hush, uncle! It’s the truth, isn’t? Why do I, Ares, the god of war, need to hide? I never run from a fight! I take pride in that. Always face your fights, that’s what I tell myself. Don’t be late for a fight either, and don’t make stupid mistakes during one. On time, every time, error free, no exception. (©) That’s my motto.

Just because I don’t always win doesn’t mean I’m not powerful!” As he speaks, Ares stops the bike and dismounts. “I’m ruthless!” His biker gear slowly begins to transform into armor. “I show NO MERCY!” He grows to more than 50 times his size, pounding his fists together as he rises higher and higher above the ground. “Any puny little half-blood wanna challenge me now, huh?” He brandishes his electric spear, ‘Maimer’. “THAT’S RIGHT YOU PUNY DEMIGODS, RUN AWAY IN FEAR! HA! I’M COMING FOR YOU ALL! ZEUS CAN’T SAVE YOU NOW!!!”

The sky flashes menacingly, and Ares looks scared. It lasts less than a moment, however.

“I want my revenge, Father, and I will have it! Mark my words!”

The woman looks up at Ares with exasperation. This feeling is accompanied with ‘major eye-rolling’, as she calls it. She leans against the bike, filing her already perfectly-manicured nails. Her hair is in perfect curls, and a delicate tiara rests atop the crown of her soft brown hair. Her makeup is light but done to perfection, and her white robes show no wrinkles and lay perfectly on her body, showing off her graceful figure. She shines through her divine beauty.

“Seriously, Ares? Why do you bother wasting time with such vicious thoughts of revenge? I can think of a million different ways my time can be spent doing much better things. Like shopping, styling my hair, painting my nails, putting on makeup, matching up two perfect people…”

Ares puts up his hand to stop her, having shrunk back down to the average human size.

“Enough, Aphrodite. Its bad enough I have to deal with your husband, can you please not bring your preferred activities into this as well? It’s enough to make me want to use my spear on myself.”

She rolls her eyes again and tucks a loose curl behind her ear.

“Geez, stop over-dramatizing things Ares. That’s Apollo’s job. Besides, it’s not like I can force my husband to leave us alone. And all those little traps he leaves for us whenever we’re on a date? Now THAT’S enough to make me scream. I swear, my face is still red from the last time. I can only shudder at the thought of what he has planned for the future. His precious ‘designs’ are more of a nuisance than Dionysus’ pranks, and I still can’t get the last of the grape juice out of my favorite robes!

And have you ever had to go to his workshop? First of all, good luck finding the place. It’s in the middle of the Labyrinth, I can never find my way around down there. But then if you do manage to somehow find it…oh boy. I don’t even want to talk about it. Let’s just say it’s my least favorite place to be. Even more so than with Hades.” The ground rumbles again. “Oh enough already nephew! My husband is an ugly brute, and his workshop is the last place I want to spend eternity!”

Ares and Aphrodite move to get back on the bike. Once both are sitting, they find that they can’t move. A hologram of a disfigured man appears on the dashboard, smirking in satisfaction. “Maybe you’ll learn a lesson this time, you two. Happy journeys!” The hologram man snaps his fingers and ropes bind Ares and Aphrodite to each other and to the bike. The motorcycle roars to life and begins to tear down a previously nonexistent road. In the distance can be seen an abandoned amusement park, giant mechanical clown heads laughing maniacally at Ares and Aphrodite’s current predicament and future misadventure. Aphrodite screams, her tiara flying off her head and landing on the side of the forsaken road. Ares stares into the dancing eyes of the mechanic.

“I will get you for thi–gah!”

A rope binds itself across Ares’ mouth as Hephaestus laughs along with the clowns. Then his hologram disappears into nothingness, the tiara mysteriously dissolving with it.

(©) That sentence was said daily by one of my favorite teachers in high school and has stuck with me. I doubt he ever pictured me using it in this way, but it works and I hope he doesn’t mind!

A man emerges from the trees of a lush vineyard, grape vines sticking out of his black hair and purple stains covering his once-white clothes. He begins to pull leaves out of his hair one by one, chuckling to himself.

“That never gets old.

I absolutely love messing with the other gods’ minds. What could ever be more fun? Especially Hades, because he never leaves his dungeon to chase me for revenge. Some of the other gods though…I’ve definitely learned not to cross some of them. Once, I sent Aphrodite an exploding bottle of grape juice. Not wine unfortunately, but it was still a divine bottle of wonderful purple juice. I had originally intended to rig it so that when she opened the cap, the delectable purple drink would spray in her face. Harmless, right? Weeeeeellllllll apparently I added a little extra oomph of magic more than I should have, and, well, let’s just say that…she didn’t think it was very funny. She also sent me the bill for having her robes cleaned. And probably purified.

Sheesh.

And of course there’s the time I…actually, I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll just say that Zeus didn’t find my harmless joke, well, funny. And he gave me the WORST punishment ever- no wine for 100 years. 100 YEARS! Do you know how long that is? It’s, like, forever! Ok well maybe not forever, but still. I’m Dionysus, the god of wine and celebration! And not having wine really puts a damper on parties, partying, and just savoring the divine, amazing, delectable, exquisite, heavenly…yeah, wine is the stuff.

What’s wrong with partying? So what if I have responsibilities, they can wait a little longer. All I need is a cup in my hand filled to the brim with wine, and I am allllll set. When Zeus doesn’t let me host my gatherings on Olympus, I like to hunt out secret spots on Earth for me and my friends to congregate and just. Go. Nuts. No party poopers allowed. But ladies…ladies are ALWAYS welcome. The more the merrier. It’s all because I’m a ladies man, of course. (Don’t listen to what Apollo or Hermes say, they’re still going through denial over it. For the past several thousand years.) But me…I certainly know how to charm the ladies. Say something nice, compliment them, let them think they’re the only gal around. Then have a little fun with a bunch of them at one of my famous parties. Later, I see them off and then I forget they ever existed. Apparently I have a couple kids out there. I hope they all take after dear old dad and know how to throw AWESOME parties. Like with lots of dancing and flowing alcohol and knowing that ending before sunrise is unacceptable. Unacceptable.”

Dionysus approaches a row of grape vines, crouching down to inspect a dying plant. He looks at it for a moment, then moves on. In his wake, the plant is slowly coming back to life, turning a lush green and sprouting large bunches of deep purple grapes.

“Well, duty calls I suppose. Gotta do something productive once in a while. But making grapes grow and throwing fantastic parties? Yup, I got it pretty sweet.”

A large figure grumbles incessantly in the early-morning fog.

“Thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he? Sending me plants and vines and green stuff…for the love of Hades why does he send me living stuff?! He knows I prefer stuff that’s, well, DEAD. Vines and leaves and grapes…gods…

I WILL GET YOU FOR THIS, DIONYSUS!

Not like he’ll care, he’ll just shrug it off as usual. Why does my family think it’s FUNNY to send ME these kinds of ‘presents;? Hmph, I’ll show them…” The man laughs evilly, until a rough cough wracks his body and forces him to stop.

“Pfft, the Lord of the Dead doesn’t need sunshine, or nature, or ‘fresh air’ to be happy and healthy. I’ve got plenty of wide-open space here!” He scoffs at each item, and then gestures to the endless extent of his ‘kingdom.’ “Just because I’ve spent the past few millennia underground means nothing! Nothing at all! Don’t let Dionysus or…her…tell you anything different.” (My mother-in-law and I definitely don’t see eye-to-eye on my outdoor excursions. Probably because she the ‘goddess of agriculture and nature’ or something like that. He sticks his tongue out at the mention of Demeter.)

I do get around, you know. Why, just yesterday, I was overlooking the Fields of Punishment! Persephone would be so proud of me to know that I actually left the palace walls for a change. (She thinks I need to get out of the palace more, something about it affecting my temper. Temper? Ha!) The fields were full, as usual. Which is nice. Who doesn’t love a good tortured dead soul or two? Especially when they are sent to the fields for eternity. HAHAHAHA.

I have quite the expansive kingdom, OBVIOUSLY. I’m the Lord of the Dead for gods’ sake! Gotta fit those millions of pathetic (I mean tragic, of course) souls somewhere. Over there is the dock where Charon brings the new victims…I mean, poor, poor souls who have passed on. Then you see Cerebus watching guard, each head scarier than the next. Did you know his weakness is a red rubber ball? You just mention his ball and he loses focus and souls can…actually, forget I said anything. YOU HEARD NOTHING!” He shoots to a height of fifty feet, flames shooting out of his eyes. Just as quickly as he exploded, however, he shrinks back to size. He acts as if nothing has happened.

“So after passing Cerebus, the dead move on to their judgment. See the super long line? So many dead to process, so little time. IF a departed soul wishes, he or she can skip judgment and go straight to the Fields of Asphodel, where they roam around with no purpose for eternity. But if they face judgment, their fate is up to the judges. If they deem so, the judges may reward a soul with eternity in Elysium, an area reserved only for good-hearted, worthy souls. Elysium throws some pretty fun parties, I must say. HOWEVER, if the judges deem that a soul lived a treacherous, wrongful life, then they will sentence the soul to eternity in the FIELDS OF PUNISHMENT. He laughs maniacally again. “I love it there, definitely my favorite place to visit. When the mood suits me to leave my palace, of course.”

Hades turns towards his palace, an impressive structure stretching longer and taller than Mount Olympus. Instead of its usual black obsidian walls, though, the structure is covered entirely in grape vines. Hades starts to grow again, fire spitting out of his eyes, ears, and mouth. He picks up boulder after boulder from the ground and crushes each one to dust as he rushes towards his home, then turns away at the last minute

DIONYSUS!!!!!!”

Standing at the Doors of Death is a tall man of husky build, with sandy blond hair and golden eyes. He is wearing a golden tunic. and In his hand is a golden staff with two snakes circling around the top. On his feet are golden sandals, complete with fluttering wings.

“Well hello there! Oh don’t worry, they won’t bite.” He motions to the snakes. “I was just checking the doors to the Underworld to…ummm…never mind. Nothing to see here, nothing to worry about. Just move along.

No? Well then, suit yourself. A word of advice though: don’t leave your possessions unguarded. You never know when they might…go missing. Just saying.” His fingers flex as he grips his staff, as if fighting off a temptation. “Oh and watch your back, you never know when someone’s trying to trick you.” Golden eyes stare at the clouds, attempting to appear innocent. “Changing topics now. So…who am I, you ask?

Why, I’m Hermes of course! God of thieves, trade, commerce, and games. I’m also the messenger of the gods, which means I have the ability to travel between the worlds of the gods, the living, and the dead. I’m the only one officially allowed to do that, which is pretty cool.” As he talks, Hermes walks into a small village. “Say…what’s this?” He picks up a ripe apple from a vendor’s stand while the man is distracted. “Don’t mind if I do.” He takes a large bite of the apple as he continues on his way. “Now, as I was saying. As the messenger between the worlds, I have to deliver some pretty heavy messages, metaphorically speaking. (And literally, do you have any idea how heavy some of Apollo’s packages are? It’s like he’s shipping an entire orchestra!) Speaking of Apollo, never once has he ever said “thank you” or even mumbled a bit of gratitude towards me for giving him the lyre. He spends all his free time playing music on it, and you’d think that just ONCE he’d remember who gave it to him.

No matter, I have more important tasks to spend my time on. Like…wait…is that what I think it is?” He squints into the distance. It is! Well well well, what do we have here. A simple game of chance. A con is more like it. Right up my alley though. You see, I never really have regrets about playing games with people because, well, I almost always win! And what’s better than getting what you want? Yes yes I know, stealing is wrong and I should play fair, blah blah blah. But where’s the fun in that?

Hermes proceeds to join in the game, slyly tricking other players into forfeiting their shares in the false hope that he will share his winnings with them “when he wins.” But as soon as Hermes places down his winning card, he quickly and cunningly convinces the other players that they had freely given him their shares, and that he owes them nothing. The whole display by Hermes is one of deceitfulness and manipulation, and ends with Hermes walking away with everyone’s shares. No notices that Hermes keeps his hands behind his back from then on.

“Oh don’t worry, my whole life isn’t spent tricking people out of their possessions or stealing whatever I want, whenever I want. I DO have some positive things about me. Like how I’m the god of trade and commerce! I guess you could say that they are closely related to thievery, but I make sure trade happens legitimately, I swear it on the River Styx!

A rumbling can be felt deep within the earth at the mention of the words “River Styx.”

Anywhoooo, back to the whole I’m-the-messenger-of-the-gods thing. I get to fly with my nifty flying sandals between Olympus and Earth and the Underworld. I think I win in the frequent flyer club for sure! Just last week, I delivered a suspicious package for a demigod on Earth to Hades in the Underworld, Let me tell you, I don’t know who was more surprised, me or Hades! The box was full of plants! Can you believe it? PLANTS! For HADES! Hahaha I couldn’t stop laughing when I saw the look on Hades face when he, the Lord of the Dead, opened up a box of living, breathing plants! A loud ringing noise is heard over Hermes’ laughing, causing him to stop laughing immediately.

Uh oh, sounds like another package for me to deliver. Unlike some people (not naming names, Mr god-of-music-and-poetry), I take my job seriously. I just hope it’s not for Hades; personally I prefer delivering packages up here, surrounded by living things and basking in the warm sunlight. (Thanks for the sun, Apollo, even though you’ll never learn to thank me for anything in return!) The Underworld is so dark and cold, no wonder Persephone hates it there so much.

You begin think to yourself, “The ringing noise sounds again, but this time louder and longer.”

“ALRIGHT I’m coming! Sheeeesh, gods sure are impatient. They need a lesson in chillaxing. Seriously.”

Hermes looks to the sky and shouts “Maia!” The wings on his shoes flutter to life, lifting him higher and higher into the air. He rises in the sky towards Olympus, a suspicious golden locket in his hand. Not again…

“So my father FINALLY decided to let me handle the poetry and awesome music making all by myself? I wonder how long it’ll last this time.

There once was a king of the sky/ Whose ego and mind climbed so high/  He thought he was awesome/ But really was a possum/ And now he’s coming for my pie.

Isn’t that just awesome poetry? It’s pretty spectacular, if I do say so myself. Made it up just now, but you’d never know, would you? You see, my fellow immortals don’t always seemed pleased by my ability to spontaneously create songs and poems. What is so wrong with a rhyme? The time is always prime.”

He chuckles. “Okay, okay, enough. (For now). I don’t know if you have figured this out yet, but I am a god of many talents. I have the mighty power and control over light, knowledge, healing, the plague, darkness, the arts, music, poetry, prophecy, archery, the sun, and of course, manly youth.” He flexes flabby arm muscles. “I should be the next Mr Olympus!

Oh and then of course then there’s my sister, ‘Little Miss Perfect’. Father granted her eternal virginity, promised her all the animals and mountains in the world, gave her her own group of immortal young girls to ‘hunt’ with her, blah blah blah. Oh and of COURSE she HAD to have a bow JUST LIKE MINE. Get your own symbol sis.”

Unbeknownst to Apollo, a young Artemis glides over and hides in the shadows nearby as he continues his monologue.

“She’s great and all, but she’s not as awesome as me! I mean, who wants to be a moody pre-teen hunting animals and monsters all year long with a bunch of school girls trailing along behind you? NOT ME, that’s who!”

Artemis steps out of the shadows at this point, but still Apollo does not notice her.

“I mean, I get to chill on Olympus and travel the world and see, well, stuff! I get to have some fun with the mortal women, and of course practice my archery on as many dummy Pythons as I want. And if I ever get hurt (which is never, but let’s say that I do), I can just heal myself because I’m the god of healing and medicine too! I can also see the future, but that is not always great…

Anywhoooo, I hope I remembered to tell you that I was the god of the sun. But just in case, I’m the GOD OF THE SUN! So all you lovely goddesses and muses who enjoy basking in the warm rays of that great ball of light you call the sun, know that that is me, always looking down at you.” He winks. “Being in charge of the sun is the best job ever because I get to ride across the sky in my awesome sun chariot! Of course father would never let me shake off my other duties, so I’m down here on Olympus and Earth quite a bit too. Don’t worry, you’ll never have to live a day without my beauuuutiful music!”

Artemis walks up behind her brother and mildly slaps him on the arm. Apollo feigns pain, grasping at his arm as if it were broken.

“There’s not a day that goes by that we all don’t pray for you to STOP playing your music, brother! And for the record, I choose to appear as a young girl because it makes my hunters feel more comfortable when their leader lives as they do. Just because we choose to live immortally as we do, hunting wild beasts, slaying monsters, and doing the work that no one else wants to do, does not mean we are inferior to you. I believe it makes us nobler and stronger BECAUSE of that fact. And I have my own chariot of shining silver, as I AM the goddess of the moon. We each have our purpose dear brother, and none is better than the other.”

Apollo scoffs, then resumes his “Mr Olympus” pose.

“Oh sister, how naive and foolish you are. Of course I am better than you! The mortals don’t call me “The Far-Shooter” for nothing! I’m bigger, taller, stronger, bett…”

Artemis slaps her hand over her brother’s mouth, effectively silencing him.

“Do you want to put your drachmae where your mouth is? Fine. I challenge you to an archery contest! Bow for bow, arrow for arrow, I will prove to you once and for all that you are a no better god than the rest of us (though I have no idea why Father even made you an Olympian…).”

Artemis mumbles the last part so that Apollo doesn’t hear it. She didn’t want to imagine his reaction if he HAD heard it.

“So what do you say, brother? The Huntress versus the Musician? The goddess of the moon versus the god of the sun? The silver-bow versus the golden-bow? I mean, do you honestly think you have any chance of winning?”

As Artemis argues, she grows in size and brightness until she is 50 feet tall and gleaming like the new moon, her silver bow slung across her back. Apollo stands back, frightened at first, but quickly regains his composure.

“YOU’RE ON SISTER! First one to destroy 500 Tityos dummies WINS!”