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.
