Name: Stheno
Epithets: Enyo, Bloody Stheno, Hideous Stheno, The Hungry Wife
Age: Late Twenties

Gender: Female
Appearance:
Stheno is more beast than woman, something she barely bothers to hide. One eye milky and blinded, the other bright and sharp as copper, her dusty hair falls in matted and coiled dreadlocks down past her full breasts to her waist. Though she might have been beautiful once upon a time she has lost her womanly appeal and traded it for a warrior's strong shoulders and arms, thighs and calves powerful and defined instead of tender and lady-like. Pockmarked with scars she dresses simply and without thought. Her mind is far elsewhere.

Personality:
Stheno is quiet more often than not, a watcher and an outcast. Many think her mad, and are not far wrong, but more often than not her quiet words are civil and soft. Prone to small kindnesses and naivete, it is only on the eve of battle and bloodshed that her affiliation with such elements comes to the fore. Her love affair with war is legendary, such that many believe her to be the daughter of Ares himself. Others believe her a monster, her viciousness merely her true nature showing when the veneer of womanhood is shed. Whatever the truth it is in battle that she comes alive--the rest is merely a veneer, insubstantial and fragile, as any who broach such discussions with her will find.

Bio:
They call her Stheno, she who has slain more men than her sister's together. Perhaps they believe her the Gorgon of legend in true--perhaps they mean it literally. Either way, Stheno has had more than her deal of bloodshed in her life and made peace with it as best as one can.

Whoever her parents were, death claimed them and the rest of their village while Stheno was merely a girl. Then called by another name, one long ignored in the face of an obvious truth, she as a girl took up her squalling sisters and made to march for the next town in silence, her bloodied feet clotted with dust from the road and the right side of her face burned from a terrible fire. She arrived at night amidst after no fewer than three days of travel, nearly dead on her feet and unable to speak, and she and her sisters were taken in by a man and his wife for fear that the Gods would curse them for turning their backs on such children in need. But battle had left its mark on the girl and never again would her life be whole without it--though her sisters grew lovely, the fairest in town, poor Stheno was burned and hid behind her hair. She wove baskets that fell apart, cut linens that shredded and shaped clay that cracked, and though she tried her hands at the womanly arts it was clear that she had little hope. In jest someone claimed her hands were meant to break, not mend, and she had to agree.

As her youngest sister grew lovely enough to marry it was clear she would be quite a prize. A contest was held in the local villages to see what man could win her, and after three days of games it was clear that the victor would be a man named Alkaios, a soldier. Massive and athletic, it was equally clear that his persuasions ran dark and his home was a troubled one, and though none could best him in wrestling or boxing or pankration. As the eve of the third day of games came to a close not-yet-Stheno's sister came to her sobbing and afraid, grasping her tightly for strength. Instead, not-yet-Stheno stepped forward to challenge the man who would win her sister, and though many tried to halt the battle Alkaios laughed and accepted the challenge. He was not, he boasted, ashamed to strike a woman who chose to place herself in his way.

To this day none can say what happened to the young woman. Was she possessed by the Gods? A Goddess herself? Or something far worse? Her fists fell like hammers, her sharp feet like scythes. She tossed Alkaios like chaff in the breeze and battered his bones until he was bloodied and blue. Finally, in a frenzy, the man drew a dagger only to find it buried in his gut, and so then was now-Stheno's sister free.

But not for long. Word had spread of Alkaios' death and his Captain was not about to allow such treachery to occur. He marched his soldiers on the village and demanded the woman who took his man's life, lest he turn his men and raze the village in Alkaios' honor. But none stepped forward to champion her, and indeed many cried for her to step forward lest they be saved. Her own sisters, finally, pushed her from their house in fear and doubt, and she stood alone before the soldiers for them to do their worst.

They were outmatched.

What happened there was not spoken of again by any who lived to tell the tale, but Stheno slay every one of the men who came for her that night. She slay them with spears and axes and hammers, with swords and fire and her own bare hands. The wounds she took were wicked things, marring what little beauty she had left and marking her forever as the beast that she was, but to see the smile on her bloody lips as she looked back to her sisters, now terrified of her and not the invading army, well, they still tell tales of it.

And so she walked to the woods alone and never returned. They say she joined a pack of Maenads and roamed the forests, debauched and dangerous. They say she became a champion for a local lord, killing in his name and for his pleasure. Some even say she waited in the halls of Ares himself for a carnage worthy of her. But she found herself at Troy, and while Hector and Achilles and Ajax killed each other Bloody Stheno walked the fields of carnage and killed so very many others.

Enough, perhaps, for even her lifetime.

Skills:
Stheno has very few skills aside from her fury, and most are mediocre. Either contrary to legend or given enough time she has adequately learned to weave and sew, and though terrible with growing flowers she is not awful at arranging them. She also has uncommon skill with wounds and gore, apparently as appreciative of them after their bloody birth as during, though she is no physician.

Greatest Strength:
Stheno will be remembered for her fury. More than her skill with a sword or the strength of her arm, more than anything, she will be remembered for the fervor that she brings to battle, the love that she has with it. Athena has no love of her, for she cares little for cleverness or wisdom, but in the din even mighty Ares watches her amidst her foes and laughs to see her joy.

Greatest Flaw:
Stheno's greatest flaw is everything else. Unable to take pleasure from even the simplest acts, not the touch of skin or the taste of food, there is nothing for Stheno but battle and bloodshed. The rest of her life is spent in a haze, and though perhaps she has tired of such monstrosity it is all that will ever bring her comfort.

Name: Ambrus
Epithets: Of the Owl and Dove, the laughing giant
Age: 26
Appearance: Not Greek at all, red hair and pale skin, cause many to denounce him as a barbarian from foreign lands.(That's before he's bought them a drink and told them a hilarious story involving himself, a maid, and a porcupine). Though he cuts his hair short(ish) in the Greek fashion, dresses in a brilliant white tunic, (literally, it's always white, no-one knows how he does it.) though his arms are adorned with golden rings, won from the many battles he's fought in (apparently), and a single, winding tattoo up left arm (his sword arm, he's left handed) further indicating his barbarian origin. Of course, what most people notice is his height, he's about 6ft, which, in the day, was f****** HUGE! BY virtue of his height, he is also quite broad, but not beastly, more of a rugby flanker kind of build. His shield is adorned with a brass owl in the centre, while his helmet has a brass dove just above the nose guard.

Personality: A shameless flirt, a charismatic captain, the best laugh for miles around, if you'd want to fight for anyone, it's this guy. It takes him the length of a cup of wine and an amusing anecdote to get past those sensibility's regarding his barbarian appearance. They may not be true stories, and that wine may be a little stronger than expected, but hey, we're all having a good time! In battle, he's the same as at the table, laughing and joking from his vantage point over everyone's heads, it's really quite unnerving. However, he is also quite cocky, which really ticks some people off, and, most of all, insecure. He befriends people because he needs the validation they bring to his life, without them, he is nothing. Being kicked out of his original band of warriors really shook him up, almost to the point of going mad, but he recovered fast.

Bio: Not much is known of the strange man from the west, mostly only stories coming through. They say he travelled to mount Olympus to woo Aphrodite with his wit and charm, and succeeded in winning her favour by pledging for the Trojans. As her favour, she laid a golden dove on his helmet, so that wile he wore it, his judgment would never be clouded by wine or battle rage. He then went to see Athena, and won her affection through his battle skill and stories, and pledged to fight for the Greeks. As her favour, she laid a golden owl upon his shield, so that it would always find the next blow, no matter where it might fall. However, as he turned to leave, she saw the dove as he put on his helmet. She was not happy. She laid a curse on him that his skin would forever be as white as the snow on mount Olympus, and his hair as red as the fires of Hades. Or so the story goes. He arrived to fight for Troy, some say as a mercenary, others because it was Aphrodite who forgave him his betrayal. He fought and drank and made friends, and soon commanded many men through the sheer quality of his character, and the strength of his arm. Anyway, what wouldn't a man give, to fight beside a man who holds the hearts of two goddesses in his palm, their place in history assured.

On his real history, yes, he was a barbarian, a Briton warrior, he travelled the world, looking for money and loot and women. Born Aed, son of Aiden, son of Drust, he was arguably the smallest in his family, or his tribe, for that matter. instead of his sword, he used another way to get respect, his words. When he was a young boy, Aed would lead a pack of other boys, often, they did the fighting for him, though he was still a barbarian, so he got more than his faire share of violence. As he grew older, he learned that the more women you had, the more people seemed to respect him, and it wasn't long before he put the information to good use. Eventually, he outgrew his small hill fort, and made his name the only way a barbarian can, as a mercenary. He picked up the languages required on the road, and soon had a close circle of admirers. But luck turned against him. They were captured by a Hittite warship while they were raiding along the striates of Salamis (the Cypriot one). He, along with his comrades, were to be executed. He was offered a choice, his life, or the lives of all 50 of his men. He chose his. It would have been set to look like a daring escape, had not their support ship arrived and scared off the Hittite vessel. Cast out and abhorred for his betrayal, he changed his name to Ambrus, and set off to make a new life...in Troy.

Skills: He swing his sword like a barbarian, and can throw a javelin as well as the next man, he's a terror on the battlefield. Like any charismatic hero, he plays the lyre, mostly sad melodies about loss of a homeland. Despite most peoples expectations, he's actually quite an accomplished sailor, and would give any Carthaginian admiral a run for his money,(he learnt this skill from his many voyages across the Mediterranean as a mercenary, plotting the stars for something to do. Also, the ladies love a romantic story based in the sky)

Greatest Strength: His charisma, he will be remembered for his silver tongue and honeyed words.

Greatest Flaw: His overwhelming arrogance, of course. But most of all, if things ain't going well, he ain't sticking around. It's all good to laugh and joke when you're winning, but when your life is on the line, that's a different story. Faced with real, actual death, there's no heroic last stand for this guy, he is out of there, or curled up in the foetal position, he'll sell out anyone to save his own hide. He's not cowardly per say, but in battle, like life, it's all about number one.

Name: Kyros

Epithets: Trueshot, the Archer, the Swift, the Hunter, the Healer

Age: Early 20s

Gender: Male

Appearance: Kyros stands just above average height with long unkempt brown hair and piercing blue-gray eyes. His beard is thin and wispy in places. The Achaeanian has a thin build without the encumbrance of musculature found on larger men. Kyros is built for speed and endurance rather than the hard work of brawny men. His armor is primarily leather with a fastened bronze breast plate and small bronze and leather vambraces.

Personality: Kyros has a multi-faceted personality. He has a good sense of humor; he enjoys the outdoors, prefers wine, women and song to all other pursuits, but can be stricken with depression for unknown reasons. Maybe he is seeking approval from others, but frequently attempts to make light of any situation by injecting a humorous quip. Occasionally, he gets it right, but more often than not, leaves folks groaning. When Kyros is in nature, he is most at home. Do not trap me in some house or city. I can only be free when running through the forest. Kyros is invigorated, filled with energy when he attends a festive symposium or even more so a Bacchanalian orgy. They really get his juices flowing. He becomes intoxicated quickly and can be the life of the party. Sex, drinking and singing songs are of great interest for Kyros. As the saying goes, those things that go up, must come down, so does Kyros. He spends much time high on life; king of the world. As a result, the natural course is for him to fall into a pit of depression where he becomes sullen. It is best that he be left alone when he gets into these moods as he may strike out at anyone, even allies if taunted unnecessarily. When Kyros fights, he is all in. He holds nothing back, engaging in combat with the same zest for life that he puts into symposiums and orgies.

Bio: Kyros is a native Trojan growing up during the time of Priam. Kyros was the seventh son of Nicanor, who was the seventh son of Theophanes, who was the son of the God Apollo. Nicanor and Kyros' six older brothers were all killed during the Siege of Troy. Theophanes died over a decade earlier and all but three of Kyros' uncles perished before or during the Siege of Troy. The three remaining uncles, Xenon, Pantaleon and Iason have all fled the city after the fall of Troy, whereabouts unknown.

Kyros was always the fastest boy among his circle of friends. The young Achaeans challenged one another at foot races and other games mocking combat. As a young man, Kyros identified his own abilities with the bow. He enjoyed the weapon's finesse, excelling at its use. He practiced regularly, improving his speed and agility. He could fire from horseback, accurately. He could draw, aim, fire and redraw faster than anyone he knew; pride filled his heart at his own skill.

As the boy grew into a teen, he discovered a knack for healing. He was fascinated with new discoveries in the healing arts, learning how to care for a fractured limb or open wound. He knew which recipes worked best for preventing an infection and helping to preserve a limb that would otherwise be dismembered if left to fester. Eventually, he discovered he could heal a man with just his hands. It was an exhausting effort, but by touching another person infected with some illness, disease or malady, the unhealthy element would be cleansed from the host body and transfer into Kyros, weakening him. With rest, Kyros would then fight off the malady, returned to fighting shape.

As Kyros grew into a young man, he honed his archery skills, earning his moniker of Trueshot. He hunted with his brothers in the forests and always brought back game for a feast. He ran faster than any of his brothers even though he was the youngest and always had a pleasant disposition. On those occasions when things did not go well for him, or in those rare moments when nothing bad happened at all, he would fall into a fit of despair and remove himself from society.

During his bouts with depression, Kyros preferred to wander in the forest with no real purpose, but simply to think about those things in his life that were troubling him. This inward reflection helped him to resolve any issues he may have. Often times, he did not know what was his problem, just that he felt bad. It may have been a reflection of his otherwise cheery and upbeat disposition.

After the fall of Troy, Kyros joined a group planning to leave the city and make a life somewhere safe, away from the Greeks who destroyed their beautiful city. Since their departure, Kyros has fallen into a pit of despair over the loss of his brothers, father and mother. He serves his new found brothers and sisters, seeking to overcome any evil that may plague the group. He is silent for now. Eventually, when the gray cloud lifts from his shoulders, hopefully the sun will shine once again and Kyros' mood will return to pleasant.

Skills: Kyros is skilled in the bow, but can fight with a spear, Gladius, shield or his hands and feet if necessary. He has skills in medicine, binding wounds, repairing injuries and healing, which fortify his gift from the Gods. Kyros has an excellent singing voice, pleasing to listen to. He cannot sing when he is in his depression, but enjoys it thoroughly when in a good mood.

Greatest Strength: Kyros is an excellent archer, gifted from Apollo, who happens to be his great grandfather. He is fleet of foot, possibly another residual gift from Apollo. As the seventh son of the seventh son, Kyros has special healing ability, which allows him to heal wounds by touch. He cannot raise the dead.

Greatest Flaw: Kyros enjoys a vivacious party and loves to get loud and boisterous. He enjoys wine, women and song making him something of a philanderer. But like any roller coaster, what goes up, must come down. Often times after a night of revelry, he falls into pits of depression. He can be the most moody of sorts to deal with. Sometimes his depression can lead to apathy and self doubt, putting himself and others at risk.