Fantasy Pantheon: Time's End IC

[Braddington]

Pantheon: Time's End

"It's true I tell you, it's true!" The man cried out like a skewered boar, strong arms hoisting him from the stool. "Enough of your ridiculous stories, old man!" The Guard barked back, releasing the elder man to bury a fist into his gut. Nikolas groaned in pain, crumbling to his knees as the second guard grabbed him by the collar of his neck, "Don't come back here!" With that final exile from the Prancing Pegasos bar, Nikolas steadied his breath and squinted his eyes wearily. His cloak was torn and bloodied, his beard was matted with dirt and sweat, a single silvered bracelet hugged his wrist lovingly.
"He'll devour us all you fools!"

"Who do you speak of, old man?" A gravelly but powerful voice probed, Nikolas turned to see a a large well-muscled man who appeared to be of similar age. "Ah! Mighty warrior, I am but a humble farmer, but I see things. In my dreams. In my mind. Always there, hear him even now, stirring under the world, he hungers, o'mighty one, he hungers for vengeance."

The larger man's eyes flashed blue briefly with a fearsome rage, his face contorting angrily into a snare of panic and stress. "Tell me everything." The large man dropped a hefty pouch of drachma, and Nikolas eyed it greedily.
I saw it as I soared across the skies, like an eagle I was. Proud and powerful, above the world and invincible in the skies. I flew far past the barriers of our world, into a dark shadowed land, filed with desolation and ruin. The rumbling echoes of rolling thunder whipped across the skies! Gaia herself shuddered and burst with divine anticipation, the seas were swallowed whole in great whirlwinds of power! And the very skies wept tears of blood... and death. In the murkiest caverns far to the east, an ancient power awakened. Hungry and vengeful, oh yes, so hungry. I could feel his rage, his anger! But nothing compared to his hunger, oh so much... hunger."

The large man stood idly for many moments, stoic and still, more statue than man. He turned his gaze to the smaller man, before a single hand grasped Nikolas' tunic, lightning barreled across the sky furiously, and both men were gone.

______________________________________________________________________________

"Greetings, mighty heroes!" The elder bowed deeply, his eyes awestruck and features beaming with both fear and disbelief. "I am Nikolas, the mighty Zeus himself has appointed me as your guide. I must say it is a privilege and honour to be in such company!" Behind those old eyes, a knowledge so dark and terrible was buried and contained. For a mortal mind to hold such secrets was a feat worthy of legend. "Ah! Our brothers from the Norse Pantheon!" The man reached out briefly in admiration of the strong forms before him. "You look strong, fearsome, a warrior! Hercules himself would admire such appearance!" Nikolas appraised, clenched fists raised in respect to the berserker. "And - by the Gods," Nikolas stood back, breath taken and aghast, as his neck craned up at a giant of a woman, "The Titans themselves would bow in fear, I am honoured, Great Lady." With a brisk pace, the elder came face-to-face with the flower-clad Norseman. "Ah... The one they call unbreakable!" Nikolas, clearly ecstatic, threw his hands wide, before he leaned in with a whisper. Gentle hands upon Garthom's shoulders. "I wonder, do they refer to your skin, or perhaps your good heart?"

With a beaming smile, he turned his gaze from Odin's emissaries to his brethren, resting his eyes on them before continuing with his tirade to each of them,"The son of Apollo himself, a God of many talents! I gather you've inherited them all, you look wise but strong, and I sense much good within you. Truly you do your father justice!" Striding forward, Nikolas paused briefly, his eyes darting between Kaon and Blaire, as if measuring which one was worthy of mantle of most unsettling. "Control over the shadows and dark... manifestations of evil power... It is... a dark path," The man stood back, not daring moving too close. Nikolas' eyes abruptly shut tight and a pained appearance overcame his features. "Hunger... hunger.. hunger..." Froze in place, he mumbled for a moment before his eyes shot open with visible confusion. "Ah, where was I? Oh yes!" Moving to the side, Nikolas' laughed heartily and walked towards the ethereal beauty, "Fair Lady," He stated with a light bow, "You'll forgive me, but it doesn't take an Oracle to know who your mother is, the denizens of the Dark One will grovel on sight! Ah, what a sight that would be!" With most of the demi-Gods probed with some form of flattery or fear, the old man found his feet in the direction of Salutem. With a humble bow, he kneeled before her and a solemn look fell upon his face. "Forgive my modesty, great Lady, but your father is an esteemed idol of mine. He saved me from Hades' gate many moons back, and it is my honour to guide his daughter in the hard times to pass."

Standing once more, Nikolas dusted the dirt from his tunic and breathed in a breath of fresh air, his smile faltered from the enthusiastic gentleness into a pained twitch of crooked lips. "Great warriors and heroes, demi-gods of the Pantheons. The trials and tribulations that lay before you are many, you embark on a journey wrought with peril... and death. You may all fall. We stand not against man or monster, but something greater than the Gods themselves. We stand against Kronos! The Lord of Time, the mightiest of Titans. My vision is long, yes. I see the shackles binding the world to darkness in it's evil act, yet I cannot see the future. We must go to Delphi at once! The famed oracle may have more answers to our many questions and advise for the road ahead, from this moment on, we are no longer the concern of the Gods'. This... is our quest and ours alone. May we prove more than worthy of it."

IndoWriter Archon TYPE rennuelaw ailurophile Hextremus CherryTart Canth​

 

[IndoWriter]

It was a bit of short notice, but she came nonetheless.

It had been a busy week, making travels here and there--often to overseas lands in the territory of sea serpents--and entering some of the most crime ridden cities known to man. Then there was the constant list of ailments that plagued said city, and how much more traveling she had to do to conjure up the necessary remedy to the sickness. Then there was the occasional cheering, and the overabundance of rewards that she didn't take. That was the busy week she was trapped in until she was summoned for a much...different reason than usual. And days later, here she was.

Thyme did not like the journey, but then again....he didn't like traveling at all. The lazy snake was just content to eat, cuddle and then sleep the rest of the day away as opposed to constantly being carried around in jerking movements. Such was the reason he was coiled around her wrist like a pouting child, never perking up once even when she scratched him in his favorite spot. Salutem just tried to ignore him to focus on the fellow examining her fellow members and giving short praises to each of them. From what she could hear by closely examining his voice, he was an old man that seemed to...occasionally mumble something under his breath. Something about hunger, three times.

The young woman considered him for a moment longer as he continued to praise the other members, and she felt the slightest smile grace the corners of her lips when she felt Diocles' presence among the others. Uncle. Salutem never quite got to talk that much with him or know him personally, but he had once been injured fighting for a city she couldn't quite the recall the name of and she was sent there to patch him up. There were several other injured soldiers, so she didn't have the time to get into meaningful conversation with her relative. The slight grin fell; did he remember her--the blind neice that tended his wounds, spoke for a fleeting moment and then vanished?

When Nikolas approached her for a brief word, Thyme cautiously curled his neck into a striking position. Salutem rubbed him soothingly to dissaude him from doing anything she would have to apologize for. She nodded curtly at the information she received; father had once mentioned aiding someone in a similar predicament.

Salutem blinked at the explanation, a little more than worried and surprised. Their team were supposed to be going up against the like of a mythical, nigh invincible titan? She drummed her fingers against her side in deep thought, considering the physical build of her members. There were both men and women alike--including two of each that seemed to be the most muscular out of their entire group. She could see fighting potential in everyone, including herself...but she couldn't but wonder why she was chosen. She was mostly a talented, godly healer and a blind one at that. She didn't sound very appealing for a trip like this...

 

[CherryTart]

Eppie
A journey forced upon Eppie by the gods. How quaint that the gods would summon her of all people to go on some quest. She despised most of the gods; they were all petty and completely inhuman, not a shred of morality existed in their actions. They had no care in the world for anyone they only cared for how useful a person was to them and somehow she was deemed as useful. That or dangerous so they sent her and a few other demigods on a suicide mission.

She took a gander at her fellow demigods noticing that they were all entirely different. Based on the myths she had read she had expected everyone except her to be a man with a sword and shield ready for battle or to do anything the gods bid them to do. What she found was a few other women, one of which seemed to be visually impaired based off of her eyes appearance, and a creepy one she figured should be avoided. The boy Nikolas had mentioned as a son of Apollo seemed like a glory-hound at first glance, but maybe that was just her knowledge of Apollo speaking. One of the more egotistical gods. She quickly reprimanded herself, comparing gods to their children was idiotic she would hate that so why would she judge based upon that very information. A quick glance at the Norse folk told her to stay away, but that they would be extremely useful. They each seemed to be powerful warriors just like all the Norse. The only problem was the Norse were also usually savage raiders and murderers, so they were not to be trusted just like most of the Greek demigods. Great she was going to be separated from a group once more. She sighed, all too familiar with being the outcast.

Eppie brushed down her chtione's shorts, a fatal design error had caused her custom chitone to be slightly too small causing her shorts to recede every so often along with the tightening of her neck. She continuously brushed them down until they were completely smoothed out and just touched her knees. The chitone had been designed to free up the lower sections of her legs as to not restrict her movement at all. In any battle she would need all the mobility she could acquire to compete with the fearsome beasts and powerful demigods around her.

She turned to Nikolas, previously having been ignoring whatever rambling he had gone on about besides the whole titan situation, which was essentially suicide there was no way Kronos could be beaten by a rag tag group of demigods who barely knew each other. "Nikolas, I believe your name was." She addressed him, figuring that she couldn't let her shyness get in the way of asking life or death questions. "Are you sure a team of random demigods could defeat a titan. So much as the most powerful titan?" She questioned him skeptic that they would even stand the smallest chance against the lord of time himself. Before he could even answer she looked around at the rest of the group and took in a deep breath of air. Questioning a whole group was scary, what if they disagreed or hated her. Well not like it mattered they would only be spending a short period of time together before they all died anyway. "Alright, tell me all of your names. It helps for communication, plus your most prominent and powerful skill would be useful. She declared in an uncaring tone attempting to act as if it didn't really matter if they answered or not whereas truthfully these were fatal questions to their survival. "Old man, if you are truly only a simple guide then just try to stay out of the way." Eppie quickly told their apparent guide not bothering to glance back at him. In some of the myths she was knowledgeable in gods often disguised themselves as frail mortals, so she was weary of the old man. She pushed up her glasses "This is all vital information we all must know in order to survive. Names for communication and skills for obvious combat reasons." She added hoping that would be enough to overlap any doubt in their minds of why they should answer her. Eppie repeatedly tapped on the lens of her glasses with her fingernails; nervously contemplating how the group may negatively react to her demand. ​

 

[TYPE]

❖ G A R T H O M ❖
Skranji - #659b66​

The air smelled nice. It felt good on his skin, so - without much thinking - Garthom extended his arms, letting the cool breeze run over them. He knew they would be leaving soon. He imagined that this task... this mission as it were, would involve a lot of travel. A lot of conflicts. He was green, as the grass beneath his feet. The young tree still unproven in the midst of a storm. Unsure of his foundations. Unsure of his roots. His youth terrified him sometimes. His pacifism, even more so. Even now he felt his soul pull at the reigns held by a fate greater than him. It was heavy, coiling on his shoulders - feeling as if it were the world serpent itself. As if it would drive him to his knees with its unimaginable weight.
A deep breath. Another. His mind, which ran far, fast and too often for one of his station, sometimes betrayed him. Dancing upon the edge of sanity, too aware of the wrong. Too aware of the why. Too aware. The old man, Nikolas, seemed to feel this threat just as much as he did. His mind, betraying him. His eyes had closed long since. Garthom did not even notice it happened. Suddenly he was aware of the darkness, prompting him to open them once more. His eyes running over them. His Norse cousins. His Greek rivals. What a motley crew they made? Enough to stop time? What did the Allfather think? Was this as Garthom feared? A distraction? A ruse? Were they to be the sport? Simple machinations within a greater game? He shook his head as he fell backwards, his body not even flinching his back met the ground. The grass in his neck, and on his arms tickled. It smelled alive. And well. It comforted him. Settled his mind. Settled his resolve.
He was but a soldier, and the God of War... he smirked for a moment. He knew the Greeks had their own. A god of war. Whatever they might think of him, he fell rather short when compared to THE God of war. And The God of war had commanded him. Called him from on high, and tasked him and his kin with this task. Bound under the vows of loyalty and honour they had made long ago, under a spear which would hold nought but truth - and rendered promises eternal. Odin was wise. Far more so than most all would ever know. He understood sacrifice beyond any other. And if that is what Garthom was to be. Then so be it.
He smiled. His eyes had closed again. He had not noticed. As he opened them again, a woman spoke. A Greek. He craned his neck up, and looked over towards the beautiful redhead, before laying down again, looking to the sky. She was right of course. He cleared his throat, before speaking up, still lying down, as bees and ants started to walk across his skin. "I am Garthom, Son of Idunn - Keeper of Immortality. My powers lie in healing. Beyond which, the weapons of gods and mortals alike rarely find purchase on my skin - and even if they do, I will recover. I always have. I thank you all, reluctant may you be - for your presence here." His voice was not as brash as that of his kin, warmer, the voice of a storyteller, spoken with a smile. As he finished, he closed his eyes again, settling into the grass. Waiting for the rest.

 

[Canth]

RAGNA​

​

When Ragna found herself in Odin’s court three days ago, the last thing she had expected from him was this quest. A mission of sorts. A gathering of both Greeks and Noresemen to confront a dark evil that had thus far laid dormant. But Ragna’s role was not just as a companion and traveler and warrior. Odin wanted more than a Norse champion, he wanted reassurance. He wanted the truth. This mess they were now in was, of course, the fault of the Greeks in the first place. Their stubborn arrogance and petty need to prove themselves had led them to this. The destruction of what was left after the great war when their alliance was first struck was imminent. Nigh inevitable should they do nothing to stop it, and even then the defeat of Kronos was seemingly impossible. It would take more than mere warriors to bring an end to his chaotic reign.

The alliance formed out of necessity for the preservation of the last two pantheons standing was what Odin needed reassurance about. The Allfather was not without intelligence and intuition and any alliance could be trusted as rocky at best. An alliance with a group of haughty, righteous gods and goddesses was one to be vigilant of. Odin was right to be suspicious, though Ragna did not need to assure him of that, and she too held her own suspicions. And so it was decided, not that Ragna had any say in the matter, and she was sent to Mount Olympus with the Allfather’s blessing. To be his eyes and ears and to seek out the truth so that they may be ready should the Greeks prove false.

​

Three days since Odin had summoned her, Ragna stood on Mount Olympus, along with a small gathering of both Greek and Norse demigods. The young half-giant had traveled to many realms and seen many places and beings, though this was her first opportunity to visit Olympus. She knew the stories, was learned on their history, but had only that and her imagination to lend an idea of how the place might look and feel. She kept her awe hidden beneath neutrality as she looked upon those to her left and right. She recognized two of her cousins, Hjalmar and Garthom. The others she did not know. Greek demigods, she decided, though she was unsure of their lineage. And finally, an elderly man who looked more crazed than wise, though Ragna knew better than to judge when it came to Seers.

The man was eccentric. He waved his arms about as he spoke, making his way to each of those gathered in turn. His eyes fell on her second, and as he marveled at her height, Ragna cocked a brow. She was used to the stares and the whispered comments, for though she was but a fraction of the height her ancestors boasted, she was taller than most of the gods and significantly tall for a woman. It had been a while since anyone had spoken so outwardly of her stature, however. He was a mortal, yes, and Ragna had spent little time in Midgard since the passing of her mortal parents, spending most of her time among those not so impressed.

Ragna watched the man with growing
curiosity. When he lost himself and began to mutter beneath his breath in a way that was all too familiar to the half-giant, she blinked, listening. One word, repeated, that struck recognition within her. Her lips parted, as if she intended to say something, but she shut them instead and kept her silence. She was here to follow and to observe, nothing more.

Once he had finished going to each demigod with some form of recognition and welcome, Ragna’s eyes moving from one to the next with him, Nikolas came to the purpose of their gathering. Odin had divulged what he knew to Ragna before sending her off, so the surprise on some was not mirrored on her. Kronos was a long-dormant thread that was bound to rise eventually. And this was the group tasked with ensuring the Nine Realms were not thrust into all-out war again—a war they would surely not survive. The path was unclear and their futures murky and wrought with pain and death, but their gods had called on them. Their skills and bravery were needed, and who were they to deny the Allfather? As the old man said, not all of them would return, but it did not matter. Ragna had taken an oath, sworn herself to Odin and the Nine Realms. She would do all in her power to see her oath through. If this is what leads her to her foreseen demise, then so be it. She would fight to her last breath for her adopted people.

​

Ragna’s musings were interrupted when one of the Greek demigods, a female who seemed to do everything she could to hide the unnatural beauty that plagued her, demanded their names and contribution to the group without providing her own. Garthom was the first to oblige, laying in the grass and looking as if he might take a nap before they set off, whenever that was to be. The half-giant watched her cousin for a moment longer before turning her eyes on the Greek demigod.

“You demand our names without giving yours,” she stated bluntly as she crossed her arms, not about to divulge such guarded information to one unwilling to return the favor. Ragna was not confrontational by nature, but she did not like how the woman had disrespected the one charged with being their guide. He knew more than he let on and Ragna was still reeling from memories of the latest dream that had plagued her mind, which she felt Nikolas might be the one to shed some light upon.

 

[Hextremus]

KAON​

It began as a faint giggle. It evolved into crazed laughter that erupted from her throat as Kaon strode forward, pushing aside anyone in the small crowd in front of her until she stood in front of the old man. She leaned forward until her face was just inches from his as her laughter turned into joyful humming, a happy melody at odds with her piercing gaze. It was like she was trying to drill her way into his head with just her stare.

"Greater than the Gods, you say? How splendid!"

She took a small step back and raised a hand to her inky black hair, pushing it back out of her face as she continued to grin at the poor old man.

"I have no need for the Oracle! Do not waste my time with pointless detours. I am the one that is worthy-"

She broke off as some other female asked for the names of the gathered. Kaon giggled again under her breath and stepped closer to Nikolas while some of the demigods began introducing themselves. She gently patted the old man on the head and locked him with her gaze again.

"Be a good boy and wait for a moment, okay? I've got some talking to do."

With that she took a sweeping step back and spun in a half circle to face the demigods, raising her arms before her and laughing, almost cutting off the tall Norse woman that had been speaking. Her voice was harsh and piercing, befitting for her insanity.

"I am Kaon! Daughter of Erebus, born from darkness, wielder of shadows! I am the one that shall destroy the Lord of Time and take my place as ruler of this world! The Gods have abandoned us, and I will take their place!"

She dropped her hands to her sides and leaned forward slightly as she scanned the demigods with her piercing stare and manic grin. Her fingers twitched slightly.

 

[Archon]

"Ah yeees, Kaon! The world will tremble at your name, Mighty One!" Nikolas revered with earnest, before a darkened glare settled within his eyes, blinking rapidly with a disgruntled twitch to his cheeks, almost as if searching for expression. " - If you defeat the Titan himself! for that is why you are here! Why you are all here! A single log cannot make a raft, but many, working together, may yet sail the seas. It is best, mighty Kaon, that you work with your fellow demigods, the Lord of Time is stronger the more divided we are. Even his foul denizens are horrors beyond man."

______________________________________________________________________________

Here they stood, three Norse champions in the presence of the honourless Olympians, Hjalmar was braced idly against a tree, his face turned away from the gathering and piercing eyes locked on the distant horizon. Clouds filled his head with visions of home and the snowy north, the recollection of Tyr's silhouette bursting from the sky above. His instructions - no - his command, as a representative of Odin himself, that Hjalmar was to join this expedition to defeat the titanic monstrosity known as 'Kronos'. A depraved beast born of the Greeks, father to the Olympian Pantheon, a wretched representation of their entire race. It was Odin's will that Hjalmar be apart of this quest, and he never made a habit of questioning the will of the Gods'. But this... mission. It made his faith waver under the Allfather's watchful eye, it was a treasonous thought born of doubt and resentment.

The son of Thor exhaled serenely, tensing his muscled form repeatedly in a futile attempt to calm his nerves. Tearing his mind from doubt and ruin, Hjalmar swiveled around and let his vision fall upon those present, hungry eyes seeking his norse companions. He didn't know either of his cousins particularly well, he'd heard the old seers recite sacred tales of lore and adventure to the village children, great feasts of Jarls where a prayer to the skies was given to bless their mead and carry their spirits high. Hjalmar had spent his whole life on Midgard, the people respected him, yet he was grateful they looked past his demigod lineage and saw him as more man than God. Garthom looked every bit as nonchalant as Hjalmar had assumed, bathing in the flowers with childish abandon, but Thor's son was less quick to judge than second impressions. Garthom had fought heroically in the Pantheon War, blades breaking upon his skin like waves upon the mountain, a stalwart shield in defense of Midgard's people.

Ragna was... impressive. As a specimen. Hjalmar cocked his head to the side as his eyes squinted to fully comprehend the woman, he'd come upon hearsay of the giantess, but she was far more imposing in the flesh. If the stories were true, then she too was a seer, an invaluable talent that could carry this quest to victory. The power of prophecy was never to be underestimated, Odin's whole life is built upon one.

With a raised eyebrow, Hjalmar scratched at his arm idly, the cool Greek air feeling unsettling upon his skin. He craved the icy bite of winter's tooth, the furious storms spurred on by Thor's rage, a land he called home. This land was alien and unknown, he felt vulnerable, an uneasy pit burrowed into the deepest caverns of his stomach. He was a man who'd wrestled great serpents and mighty draugr, and a lack of wind was scaring him? If anyone knew he'd never hear the end of it, it was all Hjalmar could do too... well, act like Hjalmar. The prospect of introductions wasn't thrilling, but their was wisdom in identifying one's strengths, though the question bore nothing of specifics. "Hjalmar." The viking stated after Kaon's own greeting, a neutral smile played at his lips. The Norse demigod glazed at the axe in his hands, not caring to let his eyes fall upon these so-called demigods. "My power is killing." He answered matter-of-factly, the axe spinning in spectacular fashion, before being encoiled by his powerful grip.