The years haven’t been kind to the gods of Olympus. People no longer believe, they don’t worship and those gods who couldn’t adapt have starved in this modern world of narrowed beliefs. Some have made new lives for themselves, pulled sustenance out of their domains, but it’s a poor substitute for the nectar and ambrosia of human love and worship. They are shadows of what they were but they exist and it must suffice. Others have retreated, hidden away from the world and conserved their power, but it wanes and something must change.
Amongst this time of starving gods disaster has struck. The seal to the prison of the Titans, gods and monsters, enemies all of the Olympians and of man, has been weakened and something has escaped. The gods must gather, they must decide what to do. Dare they spend their precious power to seal back up the prison? Dare they let whatever it is out, free to roam the world and perhaps chip away at the seal and let more horrors out?
In this game you will play one of the twelve Olympians, diminished and weak but still proud. You will work with the others and try to stop the Titans from getting loose or not and watch them tear the world apart to find you to punish you for having taken part in their imprisonment. You decide how your god has survived, the life they have carved for themselves. Have they lived amongst humans, as one, holding a position of power, substituting that for worship, or have they sequestered themselves and watched the world roll on without them from high on mount Olympus or deep past the River Styx?
I expect high casual standards but I am not a stickler for post lengths. The occasional spelling/grammatical error is fine as long as your posts 1)are readable 2)progress the storyline 3)offer something for your fellow players to work with.
Absolutely no one-liners will be tolerated, there is always something you can add to flesh things out, be it a thought, memory, sensory impression something.
Character Sheets: I am not a huge fan of character sheets per-se, but it is nice to have a spot to find pertinent details about the characters you are RPing with and I’ll add a link to each of them here so you don’t have to scroll through the OOC when you need to find one later on.
So what I want is:
Appearance (description for certain, photo in addition if you must),
I’d also like a little vignette for your character, a quick write up 3-4+ paragraphs long wherein you get across a little of whom your god is today and what they are like. Try to give a feeling of how you are going to play them but don’t feel like you have to get it all across or are committed. Characters change and evolve; I just want a starting point. I’ll paste below my example from another game, who I may or may not play depending on what the final head count is.
As for powers, I am happy to leave this vague as long as everyone keeps the spirit of the game in mind and RP's accordingly we won't need to define them. I trust no one will be uber-powered and unstoppable.
Any questions, this is the place for it!
Cast of Characters
Serge DrevlanName: Apollo (Apy Lowe)
Appearance: Apollo has cut his usually curly light brown hair and replaced it with a shorter, spiked hair do. His build is its normal athletically slender form and his face is still in its naturally beautiful state.
Apollo stood on a small balcony above his loud, seizure inducing club. The colorful lights flicked on and off, giving the large room below different shapes. He grabbed a glass of wine and took a sip. The laughter could be slightly heard over the music. In this large room stood a stage, on the left men, on the right women. They danced before all sorts of patrons. Behind them was a bar and on either side of the room were four private rooms that people could go into with a dancer for a private dance. The top floor was for the most loyal and wealthy patrons of the club. Apollo sighed lightly as he remembered his past and his present. He thought of the forgotten gods and their battle with the forces of the fickle humans' souls.
Apollo had become a rather wealthy strip club owner, or at least as wealthy as a strip club owner could be. After the gods fell from Olympus Apollo took to reveling in the naturally loving side of his nature. His club was a sort of bisexual paradise in New York. He liked this way of living but it did nothing to quench his thirst for his real power again. The god of the sun had been reduced to a simple bar owner. What Zeus, his father, would think of him now.
The gods had been thrown to the side, like rags, forgotten; lost. And so now Apollo tread the earth, not so much better than a mortal; looking for his lost love in so many places. He'd known very well that he wasted his gifts on gallivanting around like his father, and when he found his true love, he'd killed him.
He liked this life though, no expectations, no power struggles, no fits of power hungry competition. Apollo was comfortable, albeit slightly disappointed, with his new life.
Appearance (description for certain, photo in addition if you must): Her long, flowing strawberry blonde hair rests along her back, with cutting blue eyes shining from her face. Her face is heart-shaped (what a pun!) with a smile always on her lips. Her figure is lean and graceful; her fingers long and slender. All in all, she is the picture of beauty.
Current occupation/location/persona: Aphrodite has, against many stereotypes of her, become a drama professor at Harvard (she lives on campus). A while back she was an actress on many Broadway shows, and even once held a love for fashion (that died when she realized how little use she had for people’s opinion on her dress code). So, she became an actress (under the name Rosaline Burk) and after fifty years of a successful career (SHOCK, I know) became a professor to teach others. Her personality is also contradicting her selfish, jealous personality; she is very loving and trusting, smiling always and wanting to spread joy and pleasure. Piss her off and she’ll bring down the wrath of Hades for doing so (and it would be because you ignored her loving nature, not whatever you did to her). She doesn’t mind having many lovers at a time, and finds heartbreak is best when you don’t love someone anymore.
Today was the beginning of the last month of school; Aphrodite (or Mrs. Burk) watched with amused eyes as her students put on an improvised skit for her. They’d been working on great plays, watching Broadway shows, and getting their own play up for the college (it was to be open that weekend, and she was all set for it) and today she’d decided it was time to test their skills. Were they ready to improvise acts, which would force them to work together?
Apparently yes. They did a parody skit of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. She had to say, while it wasn’t her favorite story (Shakespeare had gotten all the wrong facts! The old fool) this parody was, in fact, quite good for it being unplanned. Mostly. When it was over, Aphrodite stood and clapped approvingly. “That was fantastic, class! Mark, just work more on not stuttering—oh, you meant to? Funny, Mark, very funny—and Nellie, when singing, make it either better or worse. In a Parody’s case, make it awful. Good, good.” She walked around her desk and clapped for a few more minutes before dismissing them with, “Practice your lines, work on doing your best, and do not panic about this weekend’s play!”
They left within a few minutes, leaving their teacher to deflate and sit back at her desk. Oh, she loved to show them how to fake tears, broken limbs, draw an audience in and wrap the blanket of sadness all around them. Yet it could not help the feelings of loneliness that still came over her. She missed Olympus; she missed Hephaestus (even if she had cheated on him…a lot) and she missed seeing the other Gods and Goddesses all around her.
She’d heard about how many minor gods were dying; how even a few of the major gods were dying, leaving this world due to disbelief. All she could do was continue to do what she loved, spread it out that love was more important than anything else, and maybe she would last for another dozen centuries or so. But she had little faith that that would save her from ceasing to exist.
Shoulder length of golden wavy hair. Muscular body frame in proportion with height, tanned. Bright blue eyes under grim brows and a proud strong jaw, clean shaven. Wears white suit with golden embroidery of intricate pattern by the sleeves and collar.
An entrepreneur. Owner of the Amazones Hotel in the business district as well as the Colchis Resort by the coast.
Ares was standing by the glass-wall of his penthouse, looking down onto the busy streets and the sky scrapers ahead. Arms folded as he viewed the kingdom he'd conquered in the business world. Unlike the past where he'd conquered many land by the sheer power of his swords and spears, he'd conquered a region of the business world by a weapon of its era. The pen and with influences, intimidating enough to have his business counterparts yielded to him. Having control over both the business district and the tourists attraction site by the coast, his business bloomed. Even the underground business within the region were under his influence. An alliance he had with the gang leader to carry out his dirty works for him in exchange for a wealthy reward and an immunity with authority. The law was corrupted, influenced and had fallen victim to his bribes and accomodations as well.
None had dared challenged the ruthless ruler and none dared invade his region. Having his loyal agents and investors to carry out his orders and the gangs to act as his soldiers, he redeemed his true persona. Without neglection of who he was. Ares was nothing but the personification of bold force and strength, and not so much the god of war as of its tumult, confusion, and horrors.
He grinned as he looked up to the sky. As if staring into Zeus himself and boasting with his posture of the success he'd achieved even with his powers weakened. He was still a conqueror and still in pursue to expand his region. Not that Zeus was at fault for their weak state but the hatred to the Thunder God still lingered. Though the humans no longer call for his aid in battle nor did they worship him as before, Ares had certainly imprinted himself into their head by his fame.
Slim and graceful, the years in the sun after leaving the underworld have tanned her skin just enough to not be as deathly pale as she'd been while being forced to stay in the Underworld half the year. Dark hair still kept long and styled in a very classical way, because 'there are just some things that get better with age.' Dark eyes and a bright smile, her love of life and everything of nature is obvious in every expression and movement of hers. She looks young and beautiful still, the years having only aged her to an internal degree.
Landscape architect and Horticulturist. Lives with her husband for the most part, but has her own little island get away for some breathing space and her personal puttering.
She had been off on her own for most of the morning hours, out on her little island just off the coast, replanting her plants for the change in season. While she enjoyed the change, enjoyed putting in new life and watching it grow, she hated watching the old life die. Persephone's life had been filled with death for a very long time and it had been so painful watching the souls of young girls and boys long before their time come in. Of course it had been their time, the Fates had decided so. But they were so young, so full of hope and had such futures ahead of them that they would never know now. But there was nothing for it and all she could do was let them wander in her field of asphodels or go onto the Elysian Plains to help ease the end of their mortal lives.
But it was almost spring now, she'd planted a whole garden full of asphodels on her island and quite a few around her mountain home she shared with her husband. She could forget about death for a while and enjoy the new blossoms of spring. And these blossoms were a little taste of home. And a little bit of her past as well. Some memories were easy to relate in flowers, not all of them good, but these, these were good and fond.
She was carrying a little pot, a small plater box really that was just on the edge of too heavy for her. It had been fine on the way over from the island to the mainland. The Oceanid's had been kind enough to help her across like they often did, even carrying her little box along as well. But now that she was back home, it was all on her slight frame. She smiled up at her husband when he turned to look at her, shaking her still water damped hair some as she came to put the box at the window ledge. "Well, Hades," she smiled as she stood up. "A little taste of home and the past," she went on, nodding down at the flowers in the box: asphodels and narcissus.
Athletic, slim, youthful, pale. Artemis would be prettier if she smiled more often, but she still has that graceful beauty to her. Pale grey eyes and sliver blonde hair that reaches down her back to just past her ribs but is almost always up, typically in a loose bun. Tends to dress in earthy colors, simple and almost rustic looking.
She's taught archery to mortals on and off for a long time before giving up dealing with them and has since rather retreated to life spent split between Olympus and the forests of Greece and surrounding countries, doing as she pleases now, which is mostly hunting and just living.
She sat on a rock in the middle of a dense wood. Just the kind of place that she wanted to be at. One of Hecate's hounds was at her feet. She had her own of course, but sometimes, a change in companion was nice after years and years with your own. The woman was dressed in a simple tunic of light brown that almost blended into the trees around her, and leggings, a quiver over her shoulder and her unstrung bow across her lap. It was a rather dark night, a night she would give to Hecate, had they still had duties to attend to. But they didn't, and frankly, she was rather glad about that.
She peered about the woods around her, watching the shadows of animals go about on their night runs, scurrying food back to their homes. It was getting late, even for her, the sun was threating to tug up over the horizon and she had done nothing at all that night. She hadn't even strung her bow at all.
Maybe this having no duties wasn't as good as it had been a few hundred years ago. She was rather fine with the solitude, rather fine with doing the same thing over and over again. It was just not having anything to do for anyone. She still helped out, she had to. There were youths to take care of, maidens that needed her help along and women who needed help passing. Her powers had waned, but since she'd favored the animals over the mortals she had held onto her powers a bit more. Since she hadn't used them much either since the fall of their reign, she had also kept onto them a bit more as well. Or she thought so, since she had gotten on so fine without them for so long that she hardly noticed that there might be a difference.
The dog at her feet lifted his head up and peered off into the forest. Artemis looked as well, light eyes peering easily through the gloom. There was a stag, tall and proud looking looking straight at her. A moment later the stag was joined by a little doe and the former goddess smiled. Maybe she should go back to mortals again, give her some purpose. At least with a few of them.
Appearance:Tall and lean with a long sculpted face dominated by large gray eyes. She tends to wear her hair up severely and is prone to wearing pantsuits in neutral and dark colors.
Occupation: Head Librarian at a large arts university where she also occasionally teaches weaving.
Athene smiled with satisfaction as her latest protégé left the University library she ruled over. He was clutching the books that she had pulled from the archives for him and she noted with approval the care he took on the old and valuable volumes. He was not the greatest of the men she had sponsored, but he was clever, respectful and grateful and all together as satisfying as one could hope for in these modern times. She looked around the quiet library, noting the heads bowed in study and the gleaming woodwork and felt her customary satisfaction mingling with the slightest hint of restlessness.
She had been here for many years, sponsored many bright minds and her latest was well set on the path she had chosen for him. The university itself had benefited from her careful grooming, becoming a place renowned for the strength of its classical education. Perhaps it was time she looked for a new corner of the world to inhabit. She hadn’t exercised her martial side in decades; perhaps she could find a promising young soldier to sponsor. Her reverie was interrupted but a soft clearing of a throat. The under-librarian had arrived to relieve her. She smiled at the woman, gave her a few concise orders and gathered up her things to leave.
When she got home she knew she would work on her database, researching who was where, keeping tabs on what they were up too. That always eased her when she was feeling discontent creep up on her. Some of her people were easy to track, as they either stayed put or their presence was obvious, Ares for one. Others were either so diminished or so clever at moving among the mortals that tracking them was a challenge and a pleasure that kept her busy and sharp even when her current persona lent itself to complacency.
Her Database, yes, precisely the kind of mental exercise she needed just about now.
Appearance A stately woman with thick curling black hair and wide soft brown eyes with startlingly thick lashes and soft milk white skin. Her features are regal and lovely when not pinched up in displeasure as they so often are. She is of medium height with a well sculpted frame that she keeps clothed in tailored suits of the latest fashion, always with a splash of peacock blue somewhere on her person.
Current occupation Ruthless divorce attorney, currently on leave, works when a case inspires her
Hera put on her string of pearls and stared at her reflection, her eyes following the line of her softly curved cheek, her well shaped nose even to her famed eyes, nary a line anywhere to be seen. She was lovely and she knew it. But there must be a flaw somewhere? She wondered how many times over her endless existence had she had this conversation with herself. She knew that the problem lay within him, but still this doubt came back, creeping in and making her bitter.
In the other room she could hear her husband humming to himself as he dressed for the cocktail party they were attending. He had to go, his company was throwing it to celebrate some excellent numbers over the last quarter. She hadn’t wanted to go, she never wanted to go and he had sensed it. In a moment of odd kindness he had told her she could stay home and he’d make excuses for her absence. But it was her and it was him and such kindness roused only suspicion and a flash of jealousy and she snapped at him, telling him she’d go. She would she’d go, she’d go and spend the night watching each of the well dressed women there and wonder which one it was. None of them were ever prettier than her, but that didn’t seem to matter.
Feeling defeated she dropped her head down onto her vanity just as his voice called out from the other room,
“You ready to go dearest?”
Modern Name: Ms. Demetria S. Thesmophorus
Ancient Name: Demeter Sito Thesmophorus
Sito (σίτος: wheat) as the giver of food or corn/grain
Thesmophoros (θεσμός, thesmos: divine order, unwritten law)
Like all of the gods and goddesses, Demetria has not aged physically. She is eternally young. She has wide, womanly hips and a large bosom, which is fitting since she is the goddess of the harvest, the sanctity of marriage and also presides over the cycle of life and death. Unlike most of the other goddesses, who are either athletic or slender, she tends toward the pleasantly plump. Still, she is an attractive woman with a rounded, glowing face and curly hair, the color of wheat, which is long and lustrous. She has taken to wearing a pair of horn rimmed glasses, because she mildly enchanted them so that she can surf the web on them. She dresses in peasant blouses, blue jeans and sun dresses. Her wardrobe is mostly left over from the 1960s and she has refused to change with the times since then.
The mythology is all really confusing, and contradicts itself a lot, so I simply chose to go with this, which I have cut and pasted from various places.
Daughter of Cronus and Rhea/Gaia and mother of Persephone. This Goddess had five siblings all of whom played important roles in Greek mythology, they included: Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Hestia, and Hera.
Her one true love was Iasion, a demi-god and a son of Zeus. Demeter lured him out of a party and made love to him. Zeus killed him as a result. They had twin sons named Ploutos and Philomelus, I will assume these two were both demi-gods so that they are now out of the picture.
Poseidon raped her as a horse, while she was hiding in horse form. They had a son, the talking horse Arion. He is the son of two gods and I will assume he is still around, since I will NPC him to be with her now.
Zeus raped her (because he raped everyone it seems) and they had their daughter Persephone, who is the wife of Hades. Incest doesn't mean much for these folk, does it?
Demetria patted her son Arion, a massive red horse, who was harnessed to a plow. He was her comfort still. Thought Zeus had given him to this mortal and that, eventually Arion had come to live with her. He was a pleasant enough stallion who liked the simple, rural life that Demetria did.
The mother and son stood looking out over the small hobby farm where they had just plowed the acres to plant sweet corn. They didn't talk, but enjoyed the companionable silence. The rows were start and beautiful, along the sloping hills of Southern Missouri. Demetria was wearing a pair of faded, patched overalls, a tie-died t-shirt and a wide straw hat. Her wheat colored hair was pulled into two long, tight braids, which hung down her back. Sweat glistened on her forehead and then rolled down her cute, flat nose.
In the distance stood her small, red barn and her small white farmhouse. The two buildings were surrounded by a short fence. The fence also contained a chicken coop and a work shed. In back of this painted scene, the sun was starting to set red against the massive bowl of the sky.
She waved to Jacob Bender as he drove by in his buggy. He was a burly Amish man with a great big beard and a bass growl of a voice. He was also a good friend, who had often borrowed Arion, when one of his horses was ill, to help finish the work. He waved back at her and called a greeting.
Demetria had always been careful to not throw her lifestyle in the face of the Amish around her. She actually lived as simple a life as they did and did not have any electricity, beyond a simple generator.
As a concession to her lover, who is only twenty one, she has, recently magically enhanced the generator, purchased a big dish and hooked a computer up to a flat screen television. In the process, she became addicted to Facebook and Twitter. She recently enchanted a pair of glasses to allow her to surf the internet and check on her messages.
Her lover, Rachel Sanchez, came out of the farmhouse and started pulling on a bell. Rachel was a short woman with light brown skin and tight, curly black hair pulled into a ponytail. Her petite, curvy frame was hugged by tight blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. On her head was a blue Royals cap. They never threw their relationship in the faces of their Amish neighbors and had never had a problem with them. Their problems generally occurred in town, with tourists who were stopping to see 'Amish Country', buy some quilts and eat thick, plentiful German food until their were to stuffed to move.
Demetria had originally loved a man named Iasion. They had sneaked around a bit, before her jealous asshole of a brother burnt him to a crisp with a lightening bolt.
That same brother, and also her brother Poseidon, had both raped her a different points after this. It really was enough to turn her off of men sexually. She still really, really hates what was done to her by her brothers, though she has been seeing various therapists for centuries now. She has come to terms with it, but still has not really forgiven them.
Appearance: Shoulder long curly hair, black eyes and pale skin. Usually wears a black suit and sunglasses.
Current occupation/location/persona: Architect, his own house is situated on the mountainside.
Hades took a sip of his coffee and looked out of the window. The world was changing again. For the worse. Of course. Hades couldn't truly remember a time when earth wasn't going downhill. They had defeated the titans and then taken over themselves. For the other gods it had gotten a lot better, they had recieved the worship of the people, they had taken Mount Olymp as their home. He, on the other hand, he had discarded all of that with the choice to rule over the dead. Hades had given up the bond of brotherhood with Zeus and Poseidon. It was ashaming really, that they had nothing better to do than influencing the humans. Zeus and his constant courting of mortal women. Poseidon and his lust for power. It sickened him. How many men had entered his kingdom before their ime because of the selfish reasons of his siblings?
Not that he cared much more about the living. It was, much rather, that things had constantly been blamed on him. People prayed to Zeus everyday. Only when confronted by death did people pray to Hades. If Zeus killed a ruler, it was righteous justice. If Hades killed a ruler, it was an outburst of anger. Things had been like that in the past, now they were still the same, as could be seen from popular culture, from the cartoons, from the plays. Hades tried hard not to be embittered by such prejudice but failed. When the people stopped believing in the gods Hades was less influenced by this but with time he grew as weak as his siblings, resting in his underground castle as his realm destroyed itself around him, his powers too weak to keep order upright. The underworld had become a place of true sorrow, holding on to long forgotten days desperately. Then the seal on Tartarus broke upon and he had to flee his ruined kingdom. A series of events had brought him to this city.
Having built a second olymp beneath the ground to accomodate him since the other god had become weary of him, it had been easy for him to gain a job as an architect. Most of the newer buildings had been designed by him. Many of the old buildings had been restored with his help. Though the loss of his kingdom lay heavy on his heart, Hades decided that he would find another place of peace, far away from all of this conflict. Somewhere where he and his wife could live without being bothered by the world. Hades looked at the table in front of him, a blueprint on it. It was an easy job, yet so very important. He had heard that the orphanage had burnt down and had put every other order on hold to take care of this task. Even though he was no longer a god, he still wanted to help the mortals. Perhaps it was something subconscious.
Footsteps sounded behind him and Hades turned around, smiling: "How are you Persephone?"
Silent WitnessName: Hephaestus
Appearance: Hephaestus was never the most beautiful of gods, but his years in exile only worsened his looks. Deep lines mark his face, making him look far older than customary. His hair is wild and unkempt, reaching down to his shoulderblades. He ties it behind his head in a simple ponytail when he crafts. His beard is scraggy and just as wild, though not very long, as it would get in the way.
Hephaestus arms are well defined and muscled, yet his legs are underdeveloped, as such, he usually uses crutches to move around. His entire body is covered in soot and dirt as he never wears much more than a loincloth.
The only things immaculate are his smiths apron and tools. He handles them with care and near reverence.
Personality: Hephaestus once was a kind, generous person, always willing to help others and possessing a dry sense of humor. Deep down, he had always harboured some resentment over his treatment by the others.
Since his (self imposed?) exile, he has become embittered. He is prone to violent fits of rage when he remembers Olympus, and keeps his crafts to himself. He has been alone for a long time, and is perhaps a little insane.
The years had not been kind to the gods. That went doubly so for Hephaestus. Mankind had slowly forgotten him, revelling in their own 'prowess' of metallurgy. The cyclops had been hunted to near extinction, leaving no aid for Hephaestus' foundries. And one by one, the others had abandoned the Smith God.
In hindsight, Hephaestus' life had been nothing but betrayal. Hera, Ares, Prometheus. His apprentice, Cedalion, even his beloved Aphrodite... All had repayed his trust with betrayal at least once. Was it a wonder then that he became a recluse? He moved far away, far from anyone who had dared hurt him, taking all of his secrets with him. Without the one who had created them, the items Hephaestus crafted slowly fell into ruin. The Aegis has cracked beyond salvaging, Hermes' apparel is worn and old, and the chariot of Flame will never again sore through the skies.
In his new dwelling, lairs far underground beneath the Krakatoa, the most violent volcano on Earth, Hephaestus has taken solace in his craft. For millennia, he has worked and refined his metals, trying to create that which he could never have, recognition and love.
Mighty golems of steel wander the underground, vague imitations of the gods. Their personalities in vision of what Hephaestus only feels is just. Aphrodite loves him and only him, Ares looks up to him, Hera considers him the apple of her eye, and he is respected by all. Yet, Hephaestus does deep down know it is all a lie, a twisted mockery of what has never been and then he rages, destroying his beloved automatons, only to repent and rebuild.
"Honey, you simply must rest! Mother has made the most delicious banquet for you!" The voice that drowned out even the dull clangs of a hammer on hot metal sounded plenty familiar to Hephaestus. It was Aphrodite, his wife, his love.
The Smith God looked up and saw his wife. She was still as beautiful as the day they married "I'll just be a moment, dear. I-" But Dite cut him off. "You always say that! By the fates, if not for me you would've starved to death long ago. Now come before Mother's food turns stale!" She said sternly, but lovingly.
Relenting, Hephaestus put down his tools and went with his wife, though as always he didn't look her in the eyes. His mother Hera, greeted him warmly and set him on the head of the great dining table. Ares brought in trays of food, Hermes and Apollo were playing music. Life was good for Hephaestus.
This was not one of his good days. On good days, Hephaestus would've known the reason he never made eye-contact was because if he did, he'd find nothing. No emotion, just a void, which reminded him all too well they weren't real, with all the pain it brought along.
If it was one of his good days, Hephaestus would've seen that one Olympean was missing. The one he considered his true friend, Dionysus. Hephaestus didn't dare to pervert his image.He even used to visit.
But that hadn't happened in years. The last time he and Dionysus parted on bad terms, and the world had felt Hephaestus thrash his workplace. He hadn't had company since then, well over a century ago. As a result, Hephaestus was getting increasingly detached from reality.
For the moment however, the Smith God's only concern was which dish to pick first.
Appearance (description for certain, photo in addition if you must),
Hercules is a large build man. He keeps his golden hair trimmed short. When he's working out, he barely wears any kind of clothing, but when he's on business Hercules insists on wearing a suit. He's about 6'11, and has brown eyes. On his back, he has a tattoo of the twelve labors that he had to accomplish for his father.
Current occupation= Gym Owner
"One hundred and ninety nine, two hundred!" Hercules called out as he put up his weights. He used to be considered one of the strongest Demigods, but now he's just a Gym owner. After the his father and the rest of his family were tossed aside, Hercules had to assimilate into the Modern times. So he decided to become a fitness trainer, that was the best way he could fit in. It would be easy to be noticed if he was a tailor. Hercules had lost contact with his father and the other Gods. Instead of wandering the Human world looking for them, Hercules decided to set up shop in New York City. From that point, he began to build his empire.
Now his gym was a large name and he has several Gyms throughout the world. Hercules lives in the lap of luxury. He owns several houses in different countries but he spends most of his time in New York. Hercules grabbed the towel, he laid in preparation and began to wipe the sweat from his face. He tossed it aside as he looked over the balcony. Living among Humanity once again, was not as bad as he thought. It somewhat pushed him back to the time before he knew that he was half god and the son of the King of the Gods. Hercules placed his hand on the glass window and smiled before attending to his normal duties.
His time with the Gods had turned him into an arrogant, self-centered, narcissistic person. When he would meet with a person, he would act like he was better than that person. Hercules was always eager to start a fight to show his fighting prowess. That's what made Hercules the business man that he is.
Bright green eyes almost always sparkled with merriment or mischief under loose blond curls. He had a smile that filed his face and lips that constantly seemed to be moving. Hermes liked to talk. He had two major appearances. One, which he occupied more often of late, was the body builder surfer dude that hung around any beach, in any tourist city around the world, played with the newest palm held communication gadgets, ran along the shore at each sunrise and entertained with wild stories each sunset. Most often he worn only shorts, long lose that barely covers his hips and dragged to his knees, in bright floral splashes. No shirt. No shoes.
Sometimes Hermes finds the need to present himself in a more conventional fashion. Not often, but when necessary Hermes slicks his hair back, finds a loose fitting suit and a brief case. In these instances he ages his face some and although his eyes still shine and mouth still rambles he stands taller, and refines his rhetoric. But even in this attire it is very rare to find him in any kind of shoes.
“Whoa!” Hermes cheered as the crowd around him laughed and clapped. With a controller in his hands he leaned to his right pressing quickly and shooting attacking space ships on a giant outdoor screen. The resort in the city of Dubai had one of the biggest highest tech entertainment center just a block from the beach. Hermes was entertained and entertaining. After defeating hundreds of chunks of metros the size of busses with a laser beam, Hermes finally tired of hitting buttons and crashed filling the outside courtyard with sparks of wild colors. The crowd raised their pretty cocktails, and clicked their tongues in celebration of his display. Hermes bowed. With a snap of his fingers his dog a large Bullmastiff rose and came to his side. He stroked the huge head and commented to those around him.
“Off to work.” Hermes said and everyone laughed. No one there believed Hermes worked at all. With his dog close beside him he found a spot along the beach and pulled his notebook from its cover. There in the sand he taped the keyboard quickly finding the needed codes, the simple encrypted symbols and slipped funds from somewhere into his accounts.
Before he shut the top of the small computer he smiled and said, “Happy trails.”
FlaggName: Zeus Thundersen (as played by coolerikvl).
Appearance: waved black hair falling down over his shoulders and an evenly black beard. His eyes are an emerald green and he's tall, overall a very imponating man, emanating a royal and bosslike aura.
Current occupation/location/persona: Airline CEO
Zeus looked out from his penthouse on a flat in New York, where he was able to see the place where he worked and most of the other places in the city. It gave him a feel of control and being who he had been as he was so high up, in his domain. Though the air had been polluting, making his health a bit worse as well, as he felt himself sometimes being sick and short-breathed now, as if he smoked a lot.
He went back inside to do some leftover work and smiled at his wife as he went to his desk, he was the CEO of American Airlines, it was a good job, though a part of it saddened him as he technically helped to pollute his own domain. Though the years had been kinder to him than to most others he still couldn't help but feel as if it should be different, and as if there was a huge change coming. A change that could be as big as the one that left them how they were now, starving, their power getting smaller.
He sighed after the little thinking and went back to work, soon finishing it and ending with a sign under a specific paper, the letter Z with a lightning bolt going down from the middle of the two horizontal stripes. He put the papers aside and stood up, his small bird flying onto his hand as he kept it high in the air. He had a few of them, gained in various different methods, and really liked them, though his wife, Hera, wouldn't like them as long as they hadn't been thaught to crap on the toilet or another specific place.