Vanq

Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga

It was hot but not unpleasant beneath Helios’s rays on Old Olympus. A salty breeze washed over the crowded beaches and eased the unsavory scent that lingered from the unending party. Mortal and divine mixed together freely; the city did not judge on this, only on appearance and wealth.

Persephone lounged on a balcony overlooking an already chaotic scene below her. If she were mortal, perhaps she’d be nursing a hangover or withdrawal…if she ever chose to fully partake in what the party capital of the world had on offer. One day, maybe, she mused to herself, thoughts everywhere and nowhere at once.

“Korrrrrre.” A voice purred from a pile of pillows next to her, tried to pull her back to the present.

She ignored it, head still propped on slender knuckles, a cascade of auburn hair obscuring her face. She could have been sleeping deeply. Until she moved to pull at the waistband of her pale pink swim bottoms, adjusting them for no reason other than to fidget. Her legs kicked back and forth, a graceful movement that ended with light patters each time her feet met her own plush nest.

Where had he gone? Aidan had taken her eye immediately. Tall, confident, with an easy swagger. He had given her a wide smile as he sauntered up to her and put his arms around her as if they were old lovers and not strangers. She thought she would melt. The nymphs with her had not been pleased and separated them quickly enough, chasing him off and back to his own people. He was mortal, he was male, that was more than enough for Demeter to disapprove and for them to prevent anything more from happening. Traipsing about and having flings with her nymphs or girlfriends hadn't been able to rile up the goddess as much as the mere possibility of any man touching her baby girl.

This one was no different. But the goddess had had practice at getting around her ever watchful guardians. It was a short-lived taste of freedom, one kiss, fleeting but full of fire, and a promise to meet again for breakfast. She’d barely slept but beakfast had come and gone hours ago. The man was nowhere to be found.

“Ugh, Persephone!” The voice whined now. It annoyed her mother to no end, that she refused to respond to Kore anymore, that she refused that maiden was intended as an honorific. Finally addressed as she wished to be though, Persephone turned to meet her friend’s eyes.

“You don’t need to say it.” Wishful thinking.

“Men are liars, he didn't get what he wanted from you then, and now here you are, mooning away. Forget him, let's get a drink or ten and go to the beach.” It was advice given lightly, as if it was all a joke the goddess just hadn't figured out yet.

It didn't feel right though. She fished her phone out from where it had fallen between two pillows and scrolled for any updates nearby. Aidan had sent her a friend request not five minutes after they parted and she couldn’t stop herself from clicking on him again. His face stared back at her from the screen with the same easy-going smile and confidence. He had new posts from other friends, all asking where he was, why wasn't he at this party or that bar, or the beach. It couldn’t be a coincidence. But even if she asked directly she wouldn't get an answer from anyone. Her mother's interference, again, no doubt.

“No.” She surprised herself and her friend who sat up quickly in response. Persephone stood and stretched, languid movements meant to irritate her friend as much as give her time to think it through the rest of the way. Hermes had delivered her invitation forever ago, her mother had forbade her from attending and it's not like she had wanted to go anyways. A bunch of old stuffy gods and their minions playing stupid power games with each other.

Except now…two could continue to play this game.

“We're going shopping.”

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She had never actually rsvp’d. But her friend had been certain there was no way they’d bar the daughter of an Olympian from entering the festivities. It was after all, her home too, the Accords made that clear. Her mortal companion was Persephone’s closest confidante and friend. The woman had proven herself quickly and technically worked as her executive assistant. In truth, the goddess couldn’t run Lillium now without her. Meghan was one of the few that the goddess felt confident was not under her mother’s thumb, and together they often evaded the ones who were. They had shopped until the goddess found perfection, but that had meant they arrived late. There would be no grand entry for Demeter’s progeny.

“It's better this way anyways, probably can hide from your mom a bit longer.” Meghan whispered into her ear when they neared the gate to the palace courtyards housing the party. “And actually have some fun before we’re forced out.” She paused dramatically, a look of fear darkening her face. “They won’t kill me for being an innocent bystander right?” One flash of concern and the mortal cracked a grin. “Kidding, kidding.”

How the girl managed to maintain her composure when Persephone herself felt overwhelmed to be at the seat of the gods was a feat. So little seemed to phase her, another reason to love her, even when she was annoying. The goddess squeezed her friend’s arm and pulled her closer.

“The point is she sees me at some point though.” She giggled nervously. “Or else I came here for no reason.”

They entered without fanfare even as her arrival was announced. Her list of epithets was unnecessary and most caused her to roll her eyes.

Persephone watched as Meghan scanned the area, clearly looking for Demeter only to give up when the matron of the harvest didn’t come swooping down in judgement of them.

“Well when she does, she’s really going to take issue with what you’re wearing.” Meghan paused only to add with a knowing smile. “Because you look sexy, downright ‘indecent’ with all that cleavage.”

“Not enough to draw attention with what everyone else decided to wear.” Her head turned, taking in the scene for herself. “Or not wear.” She spied Aphrodite and groaned internally, nudging Meghan to take in the sight. “Apparently love doesn't need imagination.” Her dress in contract was downright conservative, even with the plunging neckline and back. Faint vines crawled across her skin, pulsing to her annoyance, framed by the dark green cloth and woven vines.

Her friend made a slight tsking noise, but seemed rather taken by the sight. Most everyone would have been really. “Should we dance then?” Meghan proposed with a sly grin. “Or are you going to stay out here the entire night and not even bother tempting the fates.”

Persephone’s brow shot up at the flippant suggestion. Her mouth opened to rebuke the statement.

“Oh stop, I know, I won’t invoke them again.”

“I will absolutely disown you if they appear because of you. I don’t know you, never did.”

“You’re cruel.”

“You’d do the same.”

Meghan laughed, but held out her hand dramatically anyways. “Maybe it will be enough to make someone jealous, hm?”

That was not in her plans, no matter if she saw someone who could send her heart fluttering, her mother’s warnings about the danger of New Olympus were too ingrained. She was here to be seen, to send a message to Demeter that she was her own person, and that she could handle herself.

“Doubtful, but we can try.” The goddess agreed at last before taking the offered hand and joining the others already on the dance floor.

Eventually though, Meghan found where other mortals of importance had gathered and decided it was an excellent opportunity to network. The woman always seemed to find a way to fit work in. Persephone gave her leave and danced alone, moving to the ever changing rhythms in a mass of bodies. She submitted to the music, let it move her as it willed, a freedom she craved, to just be. It was enough that she nearly forgot where she was and she was around.

A body slammed into her and she instinctively pushed it away, her head snapping about to see who had disturbed her.

“Oh hello pretty little bird.” His words slurred. A man, no one recognizable, ignored the push and stepped back into her space. “No, not bird. Pretty flower, are you in bloom sweetness?”

Persephone’s expression turned hard and she stopped dancing completely to take two steps back. The guy didn’t take the hint and closed the distance again. “Yeah, that’s not going to work.”

If he heard the rejection he didn’t heed it or even acknowledge it. He leaned in and grabbed her elbow, soft hands, the type who had never had to work. Persephone knew he had to be someone of some status, but she twisted away from his grip. “Don’t touch me.”

“Dance with me baby.” He urged, his fingers tightening.

Anger welled in her and spilled over, a thick vine grew from her shoulder and snaked it’s way down her arm and around his wrist.

“Want me closer, do you?”

“Pervert.” The vine crawled with speed up his arm and around his neck, enough to lift him so his feet danged just off the ground now. Realization set in and his expression shifted between anger and fear. “I said don’t touch me.”

The crowd immediately around her finally took notice of the exchange.From the corner of her eye, she saw one or two bodies running off somewhere. This was not exactly how she had wanted to make a scene. And now she really didn’t know what to do, she wanted to leave, it was a mistake to come here.

Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga

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Mood Music

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Many years ago…

Even in the midst of a siege, Zeus found a way to dishonor her. Her eyes met his. Dark, cold, and dead to his sparkle. It was eons of hatred and loathing. How many times has she seen him like this, buried in some doe-eyed, pleasant, young mortal? He groaned as he discarded the woman from their bed, the little thing with mouth agape and confused, left to figure out how to get out of her own. What had Zeus promised this one? That her village would be spared? It didn't matter, not anymore, he had nothing left to give.

He expected her to run to him, to slap him, to scream. She would have, once. And then the queen of the gods, the goddess of marriage, would forgive him. She would wrap herself around him and absolve him of his sins. She would tell him that she loved him, only him. He would lie and say it was the same, that his actions were not who he was.

But this time, as the rebel forces broke down their walls and converged on their hidden sanctuary, the kiss she gave him was deep, but the despair was his alone. There were no tears or pleas that he be true. He had ravaged the land and threatened the delicate balance they had carved out again. He had made her a joke and he would never change.

“If only I could send you to our father.” Her whispered words were harsh in his ear. “To devour you over and over again for an eternity. Death is too kind for you, consider it my last gift, undeserved but given all the same.”

As men filled the room, weapons drawn, they found Hera holding a kneeling and lifeless Zeus against her. His face twisted in a pained death grimace, vibrant blood covered the lower half of his face and splashed against the white gold marble floor.

“It is done.” A declaration that the Tyranomachy War was ended, the King of the Gods had been deposed.

---

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Present Day - New Olympus

New Olympus thrummed with anticipation. It had been some time since so many gods had been in the city at once. Mortals who served the city and the Queen had been preparing for months. The city streets were packed, local restaurants and shops were decorated and gleaming, and though Hera had attempted to shutter them - brothels and gambling dens were geared up for the impending crowds.

Invitations had been sent to gods and demigods - though Hera had pointedly ignored any of Zeus’s mortal or demigod bastards. She could not do the same for those of equal status, no matter how much she may have wished to bar them entry. The Accords demanded compromise from her the same as the rest.

Within the white palace, the buzz of activity was kept far from Hera and Hebe’s personal wing. Where once Zeus and his entourage had kept the halls full of mostly naked women - living art he had claimed - it was now nearly subdued in comparison. Hera had had the women removed and had brought on a staff of men who she required to be dressed in plumage of jeweled greens and blues. Though she kept them half-nude as well, she had not found the same joy in it her husband had seemed to with his staffing. Maybe one day a glimpse of the joy it had brought him would make itself obvious to her.

In the silence of the early morning, the queen stirred to life. The peacock servants stood at attention, always ready to assist her, though the ones in her rooms had the additional requirement of being blinded. Hestia had joked with her about the oddity of it for a non-virginal goddess, but Hera could not stand the thought of these mortal men able to look up on her form. Neither was she willing to invite women back to such familiarity. She burned with anger at how her husband had wielded it against her, and it had yet to abate.

One arm escaped from the soft covers, extended gracefully and just as quickly was embraced by the sleeve of a silk robe. The servant moved effortlessly, no matter his lack of sight, in wrapping his charge in her dressing robe as she drew herself from the bed. She sighed. Yes, she had arranged this celebration, but it did not mean she was eager to see it through. Especially with how absolutely deplorable Hebe’s attitude had been lately. It was like nothing Hera did was good enough in the eyes of her young daughter and she was being nothing more than an ungrateful brat.

“If my daughter tries to sleep in, you have my permission to douse her with iced water.” Hera waved one servant off to relay the message to the servants who waited on the girl.

It was the last moment of peace for the rest of the morning and afternoon. There was an endless stream of requests for audiences, last minute changes because of some drama or another that was now the most pressing issue of the millenia, and all of the other finishing touches Hera had wanted to oversee. As much as it irritated her, she enjoyed knowing there was a power in it. And it distracted her from other things she had been unable to resolve. The sky and thunder still remained out of her grasp.

The immortals and their entourage - limited by the Accords and custom - crowded a great courtyard. Peacocks, of both servant and animal kind, mixed between them. The mortal men served drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Disappointing to many, no doubt, was the lack of any other entertainment, the sort that had been common when Zeus reigned.

Hera approached the balcony where she would officially welcome those assembled with her daughter. She had chosen a structured top of deep nephrite color, high necked and with caped sleeves that enveloped her. Though her pants matched in color, they were of a wispy, ethereal fabric, that with the wide cut could forgivably be mistaken for a skirt of vintage design. A delicate crown of gold, adorned with jeweled bulls nestled into her dark hair.

“You’re late.” She spoke without turning when she heard Hebe join her. “Though some will crow endlessly about how fashionable that is for your own party.”

Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga

I’m gonna start working on a Hermes. Who as the God of Merchants, speed, messages and such, is very ingrained in the current internet and probably works for/with a company like Amazon.

@Sanity43217

Excellent! I look forward to seeing the sheet. And definitely don't feel like you need to hold back on his role within a company. Gods owning and running the corporations that run the world is definitely on point.

Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga

Name:

Persephone

Titles:

Kore, Daeira, Azesia - The Maiden, The Knowing One, The One Who Seeks

Appearance:

Persephone appears to be a young woman in her early to mid twenties. She can cause vines and flowers to grow and blossom on her mortal form as well as transform into a being of pure flora. When not adorning herself with verdant blooms, her skin - from neck to toes - is adorned with what looks like pale tattoos that seem alive, twisting and growing like vine.

Hider

Character Type:

Goddess - born after the gods returned

Divine Domain (Source of Magic):

Goddess of Spring and Rebirth

Powers:

Persephone has become most prominently known for her ability to urge life from the earth, even in wastelands that her mother struggled with. Her powers are not absolute, however, and lands that remain heavily irradiated are resistant to her touch. She was integral to the rehabilitation of much of the crop land that now feeds the new cities. Her preference now has been to create vast gardens, crafting artwork out of plants and flowers.

More recently she has discovered the ability to transform things, animals, or people to flowers and plants. It was an accidental discovery, and one that can be reversed. The goddess has mostly just employed this with clothing for her and her friends, causing beautiful flowers to bloom to life on their clothing.

She is ageless, upon reaching the god equivalent of adulthood, which her mother believes has already occurred. Only time will tell completely if that has happened.

There is an untapped power within her, something she can almost feel, as if seeing it from the corner of her eye. When she focuses on it, it is gone, as if it was never there. Thinking on this for too long, searching for it for too long, brings on feelings of dread and illness. She has learned to ignore that itch within her soul that says there is something more.

Assets:

Persephone has few assets that are truly her own. Much of what she has is still directly tied to Demeter and Demeter’s realm. However, the goddess does maintain a lawn and garden business - Lillium. Within the chain of stores offering seeds, fertilizer, anything that could be used to start and maintain a garden, it also offers consultation services. Persephone is rather fond of providing these services herself, although her priestesses, nymphs, and dryads assist and are the primary contacts for their clients.

Primary Location/Areas of Influence:

Persephone is still most strongly tied to her mother’s domain. However, in recent decades she has taken to longer time away from it and her mother’s influence. She has become a regular within the party culture of Old Olympia, where the youngest gods, demi-gods, and rich young mortals spend their time and money beneath a blazing sun and too-warm waters. The goddess has a small but luxurious apartment here, and though she is often spotted at the parties, it has been a rare occasion for there to be pictures of her fully imbibing in all the former-Greek isles have to offer.

Biography:

Her exact origins, other than being born to Demeter after the goddess awoke to a devastated world, are unknown to Persephone. She doesn't know who her father was - if she even had one - and after many times of asking her mother as a child to receive no answer, she gave up on the task.

Her earliest years were spent on her mother’s back as she worked to bring healing to war and nuclear ravaged lands. From the moment the little goddess could crawl, though, she left budding life in her wake. Her ability to bring life from death was concentrated and passively inherent to anything she did. It took time to learn to control it enough to be fully effective in how she repopulated the earth with plants.

These were happy times for the girl, when it was only her and her mother, their nymphs and dryads. Rarely was she allowed to even catch a glimpse of another god, so protective was Demeter. It didn’t bother the girl then. She didn’t need anything else. She had motherly love, close friendships, and they taught her everything she could ever need to know. The goddess barely even knew of the war when it happened, tucked away safely in her mother’s greenhouse, spared the fear and cruelty of her family.

With growth and encroaching maturity though, that protection became stifling and suffocating. She longed to see more of the world, a desire she couldn’t quash no matter the fights it caused with her mother. Persephone’s love turned to resentment for all the rules and coddling. No going out into the world unless Demeter was there had become no going out into the world at all. Even travelling within Demeter’s realm came with restrictions that she always had to be accompanied by an overwhelming entourage of priestesses and nymphs.

Her rebellion began small. A few minutes here and there snuck away from the sight of her minders, late night swims in their rivers. Her mother swore her to a life of chastity, and yet she began to take lovers amongst her friends in the acolytes, the nymphs or dryads. While it caused some reaction from Demeter, it never seemed to be as strong as the daughter expected.

And so, one day, she ran, and didn’t stop. It took a week before her mother finally found her in Old Olympia and dragged her home. Yet, Persephone found new ways to escape until finally, she was gifted the small apartment that was surely surveilled, but allowed the goddess a longer glimpse into what the world was like. And while she maintains her duties out of love for them, she does not dive too deeply into the culture of Old Olympia for fear that her mother will lock her away in the greenhouse for good.

Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga

Name:

Hera

Titles:

Queen of the Gods, Eileithyia

Appearance:

Text description, art, or both! For gods, feel free to include a physical divine indicator (markings, unusual/unnatural attributes, etc.)

Character Type:

Goddess

Divine Domain (Source of Magic):

Women, marriage, and childbirth

Powers:

Hera’s power was often seen as less on their own and instead, the power of being consort to the King. It is a misunderstanding rooted in misogyny, and one that even the Queen herself has fallen prey to, in fits of self-loathing. To be the goddess of women and marriage yet have a husband such as Zeus had always seemed a cruel joke. Even now, after Zeus's demise, Hera struggles to embrace and fulfill her purpose.

She shares the familiar powers of strength and vitality, as well as some capabilities with premonitions, but her other powers are subdued and subtle.

She can bring two together in marriage, beyond just the few trite words spoken as vows. Her mere existence, though, remains what binds the Olympians together, a power that she can exert as needed, particularly in moments of high animosity. On the other end of the spectrum, she can inflame emotions rather than soothe, even to drive gods to madness.

Hera’s most sought after power though is her ability to grant boons of power.

Assets:

The Palace at New Olympia, though in theory belonging to all the gods, is firmly under Hera’s control and ownership. It is a richly extravagant residence, though it has undergone renovations since the King’s death.

Her influence is spread through her temples where any mortals of wealth or importance must be granted her approval in their choice of spouse. For particularly high ranking mortal weddings, Hera herself will attend to provide a blessing. For the masses, they attend her temples and receive blessings and instruction from her priestesses.

Hera also has thousands of midwifery clinics throughout the world to aid women in their pregnancies and family-planning. Often, but not always, attached to the clinics are services to help women escape domestic abuse. The Queen rarely attends these herself, though there are rumors of her direct involvement from time to time.

Though not technically part of New Olympia, she also maintains a smaller residence in the countryside outside of the city proper. It contains a grove which is said to be where she brings those deemed worthy of her boon. It is heavily guarded and warded against intruders.

Primary Location/Areas of Influence:

New Olympia

Biography:

She was the first to stir, she was certain of it. The world has changed since she had last walked the mortal plane. Humanity had done much in their absence and yet they were still children, now playing with powers as if they were toys.

In ancient times, even at their most powerful, Hera had always been secondary. But now, her husband still slumbered in the divine realm, and the Queen of the Gods was free to do as she wished. The great kingdoms of the world bristled at war with each other, and in time, she grew tired of simply watching their flailing attempts at mastering the cosmos.

The pain her husband caused her had not abated with time. There was no healing, no growth. Old pains and jealousies rooted more deeply, unable to be excised. Memories of how he had betrayed her without second thought, even when she had always been faithful. Even when she had been loving and adoring before her spirit has been completely broken. The fates seemed to give her a new path now, one she would not ignore.

She went to Mount Elbrus, where it seemed that some humans also hunted her quarry. They were no match for a goddess, and it was Hera who found Prometheus, still bound to the mountain after all these centuries still. A deal was struck, his freedom and in exchange, he would once again teach humans that which they should not know - how to split the fabric of the cosmos. Zeus would awaken in time, and in that time, humanity would surely destroy itself. When the King of the Gods returned, Hera would be waiting, to revel in his dismay.

It had worked, though not entirely according to plan. Humanity had destroyed more than she thought them capable of, and in that extreme destruction, the gods found a way to put aside their differences and worked together for a time. Zeus was angry, but her enjoyment of it was nullified in the face of the rest of them again submitting themselves to the King of the Gods. Hera sulked, doing little to directly aid in the rebuilding period. When the alliances and collaboration ended and strife again rose up amongst the gods, she was ready.

It was ultimately Hera and her betrayal of her endlessly insufferable husband that led to his demise. She had stayed by his side, loyal as ever, until she could watch him break as the rebels stormed their hallowed halls. She poisoned him with one final kiss, a joy that she would never need to touch him again after this. It was said that Hera held his face in her hands as he slumped to his knees, so that he knew it was her. At long last, she had seen him overthrown.

The deals and sacrifices it had required to end a god’s life were no small feat. In the aftermath, The Accords were spearheaded by Hera, an attempt to install herself as King of the Gods. She achieved it, in title only; a fact that continues to be a thorn in her side. She is paid lip service by many, but the Accords required little more than that and few make any real effort to treat her with the same respect and fear that was given to Zeus.

She has spent the last hundred years trying to claim Thunder and the Skies as her domain to no success. The Queen of the Gods resides in New Olympia and oversees the daily functions of the Gods’ capital. She maintains, begrudgingly, her role as goddess of women, marriage, and childbirth. But there is no fulfillment in it for her. She craves what she believes to be true power, to take what should be rightfully hers.

Her last child with Zeus, conceived at the beginning of the war, Hebe, resides with her, cupbearer and a friendly face to visitors unlike her mother. Hera has called for a celebration in honor of Hebe’s birthday, a weeks long celebration in New Olympia. Though invitations were sent to all the gods, they should know to not consider their presence optional. Much as Hera may care for her youngest, the celebration is not without ulterior motives.

Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga

Can I claim a god? If so, I want Discorida! Bring forth the chaos and anarchy!

@BunniesOfDoom

Claiming not necessary, feel free to create a sheet for Eris/Discordia. If you have any questions or want to spitball ideas, we'll be pretty active in the discord linked as well!

Palingenesia: A Modern Greek Gods Saga

roleplayerguild.com/topics/193282-pal…

OOC was longer than expected but we are ready to roll with this :)

Palingenesia: A Modern Greek Gods Saga

roleplayerguild.com/topics/193282-pal…

OOC was longer than expected but we are ready to roll with this :)

Palingenesia - A Modern Greek Gods Saga

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Palingenesia

A Modern Greek Gods Saga

Discord

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The Lore

The gods were dead. They had been dead for millenia, if they had ever existed at all. There were always those, true believers, through the eons. They clung to the old ideas even when they received only silence for their devotions. Humanity lived and died no matter their beliefs, the churn of time and progress that lead to one, singular, inevitable, end.

As humanity raced towards their ultimate achievement, the pinnacle of their evolution, the very foundations of life fought against it. Disease and famine plagued the world. Humanity fought back, but each victory brought only more to overcome. Whatever chance they once had of unifying fell apart to wars for dwindling resources. Hopelessness and despair filled them, but their end would not be that of a whimper; it was fire and brimstone.

In the aftermath, old things stirred.

The gods rose again, in fits and starts, to a world nearly destroyed. In a rare display of coordination and partnership, they pulled together to mend the earth. It took time, even for gods, to begin to right the wrongs that humanity had unleashed. As the earth recovered though, and humanity’s numbers rebounded from near annihilation, the gods returned to their old games.

It was not long before war again erupted. It was a brutal if short event. At the end of it all, Zeus was dead. With the king of the gods vanquished, the rest pulled together once again to write The Accords. It was an agreement to tend to their own domains with defined ways to resolve intra-pantheon disagreements. It has, for a time, ensured peace.

Peace is never guaranteed to last.

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OOC World-State Notes

While nuclear war had decimated major cities and military bases world-wide, the earth was already a world in decline. When the proverbial dust cleared, the world - while still recognizable - was irrevocably changed. Even with the gods' work to set the world right, not everything was returned to as it was.

Sea-levels had greatly risen, obliterating coastlines that had survived nuclear fallout and sweeping away major cities that had been thoroughly irradiated. There are no longer ice caps and the overall climate has stayed several degrees higher, though godly intervention has ensured it remains habitable for mortals - both human and beasts, though biodiversity is at an all-time low. Pockets of intense radiation still exist on land and sea. While immensely lethal to mortals, even the gods are not immune.

This has meant that as humanity and the gods rebuilt, they did so in planned and condensed cities, largely in the southern hemisphere which was targeted less in the mortal’s wars - South America, Africa, and Australia.

Through the Accords, the gods can exert local control of their domain within reason. Flippant disregard for humanity is tolerated, mass destruction and wonton killing is not. Humanity has coalesced into cultures and identities based on the gods they worship or serve, though due to the Accords this is still largely a geographically based identity. Nation-states may no longer exist, but strong cultural identities do. Some gods choose to run their demesne as a fiefdom, others as near-anarchy, few if any allow any actual power to reside in mortals’ hands.

Detailed Map

Basic Map

Locations of Note:

New Olympia

Located near what was once Cape Town, South Africa. It is the City of the Gods - a neutral location and collective seat of power for the gods, where they come together to maintain the Accords, settle disputes, or, on occasion, throw wildly opulent parties. Mortals who live and work here have been thoroughly vetted through the generations. Few just move to the city, and many can claim their ancestry back to the founding of the city.

Nearby is what was once called Table Mountain, now referred to as The Mount. It is considered a most divine place, and is a portal to the divine realm. Humans, other than oracles, are not welcome anywhere but at the base camp. Many seek to pilgrimage to the mountain but few are given permission.

Kato

What was once Australia has grown to be the only mortal-lead state on earth. The Misotheists have built up the eastern half of the island continent with a scattering of cities and outposts. They have been aided in their isolation and security by the stockpile of nukes they’ve amassed over two centuries. How they found them has remained a pressing mystery and thorn in the gods’ sides.

Phelgithos

Few humans ever have cause or desire to make the pilgrimage, born both of fear and practicality. Its entrance is found near the still smoldering remnants of an Icelandic volcano. Phelgithia houses the newest entrance to the Underworld and is Lord Hades’ seat of power on the mortal plane.

Aegeia

Located within the costal mangroves of what was once the Amazon rainforest, Aegeia is Poseidon’s bastion and domain, although many gods and beings of magic gather among its vine infested streets and carven canals. The god of the Sea tolerates only the most dedicated of mortals within his city and it is said one cannot even find it without the prior will of the Lord of Tides.

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OOC Character Powers and Limitations

Gods, Demi-gods, Mortals, and Daimons

The Olympian Gods are beings of great power, but they are not all knowing, all present or all powerful, their powers are tied to both their domain and the respect and worship of mortals. Some gods are more reliant on recognition from mortals than others, but none are immune, and those domains which are more closely tied to humanity and the act of prayer have more dizzying heights of power. The Gods of the Underworld, known as the Cthonic Gods, stand apart from this. Their power is held more in mysticism, in the bindings of pacts and the wording of spells. All must pass through their halls, believers or not, yet even at the primacy of their worship mortal attention was but a footnote for them, and humanity has ever dealt with them in fear and respect, never love. The greatest gods are beings that can remake the world around them, although all struggle with cleansing nuclear radiation, it is one of the few things not born of their own power that can harm them, even the greatest of gods, when encountered in significant amount.

Of great note to the Gods is that the domain of Thunder and Sky sits without a ruler, even as The Queen of the Gods claims the Mantle of Olympus.

Non-mortal beings such as dryads, nymphs, demigods and more, are imbued with a portion of a domain’s power. While they do not require mortal worship, they are often more vulnerable to damage to their domain than the truly divine are. A Dryad is tied to their home grove, and may simply perish if it is destroyed, for example. Demigods are imbued with great power from their lineage, yet a lack of respect for their divine forebears can strip them of their might with ease.

Humans and other more mythical, yet mortal, beings are traditionally the weakest of sentient beings, but that does not mean they cannot benefit from the return of the Gods divinity. As magic once more returns to the Earth, priests, acolytes and sorcerors once more find themselves capable of calling on aspects of this power. In most parts of the world, those that were tied to the return of the Gods hold more power and ability than their human counterparts, but that is more a reflection of familiarity than true potential. A Centaur hero is no more innately capable of wielding magic, be it Olympian of Cthonic, than a human.

The greatest threat to the current order of things is the rise of Typhon, the great monster born out of the nuclear fire of destruction. While knowledge on what this is, or means, is scarce, so far only humans have been capable of wielding this cursed Typhonic magic. Once taught, it is the easiest to grasp and the purest in power, but it must always consume the lifeforce of both body and soul, either by those who wield it or by those they sacrifice.

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GM reserved characters - Persephone, Hades, Hera

Character Sheet Template

[b][color=???]Name:[/color][/b]
[indent]Character Name[/indent]
[b][color=???]Titles:[/color][/b]
[indent]If applicable[/indent]
[b][color=???]Appearance:[/color][/b]
[indent]Text description, art, or both! For gods, feel free to include a physical divine indicator (markings, unusual/unnatural attributes, etc.)[/indent]
[b][color=???]Character Type:[/color][/b]
[indent]OC (human, daimon) or Myth-based (god, demi-god, mortal, daimon)[/indent]
[b][color=???]Divine Domain (Source of Magic):[/color][/b]
[indent]If applicable[/indent]
[b][color=???]Powers:[/color][/b]
[indent]If applicable[/indent]
[b][color=???]Assets:[/color][/b]
[indent]Wealth, non-divine training, influence, etc.[/indent]
[b][color=???]Primary Location/Areas of Influence:[/color][/b]
[indent]Main residence/home[/indent]
[b][color=???]Biography:[/color][/b]
[indent]Include any “myths” that are history, feel free to alter known myths to fit your version of a non-OC[/indent]

A Song Of Ice And Fire : The Swords And Stars

_{Collab with @Ezekiel}

Imprisonment had not been entirely unkind to her. But when dragon wings shook the city, it was a chaos she needed to grapple for some semblance of control. If Ceryse didn't, her actions, so impulsively set in motion, would see her dead. To think otherwise would be delusional.

“Flee this city, flee this continent.” She had told Hespaerys the moment word had reached them of dragons’ approach. If he had thought it a joke, the severity on her face quickly corrected him. It had been stupid, the small bit of comfort she had finally taken for herself. What was done was done. She could no more undo her transgression than Maegor could undo their marriage. Ceryse would remind him of that with every ounce of her being now that he was here, crowned and vindicated by the Seven.

Perhaps it would have been better if he had died.

Hate had not replaced love, if anything, it had replaced indifference with occasional smoldering desire. But even now, Ceryse knew it to her core that she had better luck with him alive than ashes.

Whether it was her letter or just anger at the faith that brought him to her family manse did not matter. With her lover’s departure and the city on edge of self-destruction - nevermind the dragons at their doorstep - the Queen took insidious control of things. None wanted to offend her now that Maegor had arrived. Lords and small folk alike suddenly paid her the deference she had deserved and been denied. She took that and turned it back against them.

Her maids and attendants were put under guard as allies to her traitorous brother and the Faith who had imprisoned her. They had committed treason and the sentence could be nothing less than death.

For two days as the men argued and fought over what to do, Ceryse found her own allies among them and gave her advice as the only one who had any insight to the King’s mind. She did not shed a tear when the decision was reached to kill the High Septon and welcome the King.

Within the manse she had his body laid out, not in the finery of his robes, but in sackcloth. The high seoton’s garments, bloodied and torn, were in a haphazard pile next to the dais his body rested on. He had not gone willingly, nor had all of his attendants. The dead Warrior’s Sons had been stripped of their armor and cloaks which were piled next to the dead man. Thankfully he had yet to begin to smell, though Ceryse had called on the Maesters to keep him perfumed to avoid that awful stench.

She looked at him now, a man destroyed by his own hubris but wondered at the deadened feeling in her heart. Was it hubris to do whatever it took to live?

There had not been time to ready a new gown, but Ceryse waited for Maegor dressed to remind him both that she was his Queen and his wife. In black and green, the neckline of the gown had her chest threatening to spill out. A simple gold chain trimmed with brilliant emeralds dripped down her neck before coming to rest in the valley of her cleavage. Each breath she took caused them to catch the light and reflect small sparkles back across the room.

It was not a great hall that she had commandeered for her display. The room, still large but not grand, had once been her father’s favorite study. Those memories and the faint feeling that she desecrated them, nearly stirred her to second guessing herself. Her father’s lingering presence remained, though, and steadied her. Signs of him were everywhere. He would not have approved, but, she thought, he would have understood.

She waited behind the high septon’s body, hands clasped before her, a small number of faithful knights behind her still. A small display of strength in the face of what she had endured. Ceryse had not known how quickly he would come to her once the gates had been opened. But to those who had greeted the king, she had given explicit instructions.

When he entered, a flash of annoyance lighted. Seven, had it really been years since she last saw him? Even from such a distance she could feel him. The men behind her stood firm, awaiting her response. Would she kneel? She had not decided that ahead of time. She should, he was her king. But something in her bristled against that, small fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Ceryse instead bent her neck in greeting. “Maegor, my husband, how I have missed you.” She spoke, loudly and steadily, her tone flat, indecipherable. Now she heard the uncertainty in small movements behind her. Men could be such cowards.

As Maegor entered the room he brought with him the smell of ash and blood. He had ridden through the city with only a paltry escort, not hiding from the chaos of the lower city as many might. His critics would call it cruelty, for few expected it was out of care for ceasing the destruction. Even still, it was more than the lords of the tower had done. That was the ash, the blood was even more recent. He walked with Blackfyre drawn, the valyrian steel slick and hot with a very recent death. The King had not paused to verify the claims of his first wife, and had begun the long list of punishments such treatment of his spouse had required.

When Ceryse spoke, Maegor did not reply initially, stepping to the side of the entryway, pausing to pull the length of Blackfyre through a set of curtains, whining the blade clean on the decorative fabric before he turned back to her, drawing closer and closer. The fleeting movements behind her grew more numerous as he did, especially as continued in silence. Two men who had accompanied him flanked the doorway but remained in place. There was a possibility they had been among those who had argued against the King in the past, but whoever their master had been had turned his cloak back to the throne early enough that such didn't matter. For now.

“My exile has treated you well enough.” He spoke when he was but a few steps from her, the blazing intensity of his gaze traveling up and down her glittering form without heed for the armoured men behind her. For someone such as Ceryse who had known the man and his fury for more of his life than most, the change would be clear. Whatever fire had burned in Maegor before his trial had become a cataclysm, barely contained by the deep violet of his eyes that still held some phantom beauty despite their violence. “But the pains you have felt on your skin and soul are the same as if your kin had taken their cruelty to me. For are we not one flesh in the Light of the Seven?” His words almost sounded mocking, but the fury in them creaked at the edges of humour like the storm battering on a ship's Hull.

“Give the word, my Queen, and I shall rip Old Town asunder, and build a new tower of their bones.”

The true queen stood resolute in Maegor’s approach, even if her stomach turned and she tasted acid. Her green eyes held his gaze, full of fire and anger. It felt familiar but altered. She couldn't place the feeling and did not want to linger on it. He had aged some since last seeing him, an unfortunate truth for she had as well.

Dangerously, perhaps, she disregarded his question and offer. Her eyes still matched to his, she spoke the men behind her and at the doorway. “Leave us.”

Her knights faltered in heeding the command. Ceryse bristled, her hands unclenched from in front of her and flexed to her side. “Now.” They moved, though she could hear the reluctance in each step they took. She wondered what they thought they would do if she had somehow needed them as protection against the king.

The queen let the men leave in silence, her eyes left his only long enough to look for signs of his jaw clenching or the vein in his neck pulsing. His men would not leave without his bidding, and she used the silence as a challenge, seeking his agreement to her command.

When he gave it, a small wave of relief washed over her. “We are as one by all holy teachings.” She finally offered in agreement once they were alone, barring her deceased uncle. “My time cast aside has been one long, unyielding wound.” There was no hiding the accusatory venom in her words. The trials she endured had not started with her imprisonment and he knew it. “You could destroy Old Town, I would not care.” She felt the lie as she spoke the words. “But what I want is restoration.”

Ceryse had goaded him and in response to it, she lifted her hands and placed them to his chest. The act did nothing to quell the acid in her throat, but neither was she entirely repulsed by the act. Blood and ash or not, a part of her felt relief to feel him beneath her skin again. It was not a smile that crossed her lips, nor a simpering wet eyed look. “I am your queen, I want what is mine.”

“Get out.” The King's command was even more forceful than Ceryse's, made without even turning away from the woman, and obeyed without the delay of concern. He did not push her away, but he did not respond in kind for the moment, the heat of him pulsing against her touch, but unmoving. “You were not cast aside.” His words were steadfast, but not enraged, even if his state of near conflagration seemed never to fade, it was far calmer than he had made the point in the past. “It was I who resided on foreign shores, who fought Khalassars for Pentoshi moneylenders while my brother's kingdom fell into disrepair, while you sat at the heart of the traitors’ court.” Then, at last, he moved, one hand reaching up to grasp her neck, not fiercely, but with enough barely held force to pull her towards him, to threaten the carefully maintained balance of her gown and jewelry. “Some might suggest your call for aid comes only as their ire has turned on you, and not out of the act itself.” He was close enough for her now for his breath to dance across her skin. The warmth of him an overpowering rush that felt as mythical as the dragon he rode.

“I was never not yours, Ceryse, much as you have never ceased to be mine, no matter how much I can taste the treason in the air.” His grip tightened, just slightly, still far from preventing her words or breathing, but such that fingers pressed into skin which reddened beneath them.

She raged inside at the allegations, no matter the grains of truth. Hints of it played across her expression, her eyes narrowed until he gripped her neck and she widened them again in surprise.

“Were you?” She asked with disbelief. “You've never been anyone's.” She gulped and felt her throat press into his palm with the slight effort. The rest of her body responded to the force on its own accord, a slight stumble her feet found themselves again, a desire to twist from the grip against another, for many reasons, that begged for his to do more.

“If you believe I am part of this treason, kill me now.” Her eyes flickered wet and red, an unwanted but uncontrollable reaction, towards Blackfyre. “I won't play a game of words about this. I am and have been yours.” Her hand wrapped around the one around her neck, her nails lightly dug into skin and muscle.

“What is yours and what you control are not one and the same.” The force of his grip on her changed but didn't lessen, turning her back around to face the body of the King's stricken foe, the displayed form of the man who had been High Septon before as, as the towering presence of the King filled the space behind her, the mail and leather of his clothing harsh against the soft silk of her own. “You have done good work since my arrival, but there must be more. More blood to punish those who would forsake their oaths, and harm their Queen.” His hand moved up from her neck to her chin, pulling her face down to hold the dead in her vision while his steady breathing cascaded across her neck and ear. “Point my blade, or do not, and I will take vengeance where I see fit, and I imagine I will see matters more broadly.” It was a simple offer, to become aligned in act, to mend a bridge between then, but it would no doubt break down another that might have been her escape from him.

His other hand finally moved from Blackfyre, the blade resting aside as the hand moved around her, clasping her tighter to him, the feel of his calloused hand barely muted by the texture of her gown.

“I have requested a celebration of unity between our houses once more, it seems likely my terms will be agreed to.” He continued to speak to her ear, as if now ignoring the grim sight before them. “We will show them that we are of union once more, after I shall have you again.”

She had thought for a moment he was going to take her there, with a dead man in the room. And when he hadn't, she felt the familiar pang of rejection. Her lips curled and twisted into displeasure before she could stop it. Her breath had become ragged, a fact he had certainly noticed. Her stomach tightened in response, a mix of fear and loathing, a touch of unwanted desire. She offered no resistance to his hold or force, her body rigid but acquiescent to his demands.

“There are some still who will pretend they always supported you and not the faith.” Ceryse’s voice was steady in its quietness, nearly sultry. She traced his arms around her with her own, the sleeves of her dress catching against the rough mail and leathers, something she had not done for so many years. “I will join you now, and in King’s Landing.” It has not been offered directly, but she would see herself restored and she would do what she should have done in the first place - make life the seven hells for the whore from Harrenhal.

One of her sleeves caught and tore against Maegor, a hole, small and annoying. Ceryse frowned. “This gown will no longer do.” She didn't expect him to care, but she pulled lightly at the fabric and felt the threads give way, the hole now a long tear from elbow to shoulder. Her father would have understood, she reminded herself again, as she twisted in his grip, not in resistance or to remove herself, but to find his face, to encourage a different sort of control.

“I've no trustworthy women remaining here to remove me from these rags. You may not be delicate enough for the job but it is already ruined.” She forced a sly grin across her lips, but her eyes lit up with a hunger all the same.

In the halls outside the study, Ceryse’s men shared a look before moving further down the corridor to await their queen's need of them once more.