| Γιος του Φοῖβος |

 occupation : Messenger of the Gods   |   age  : 21  |  species  : Demigod   |  ethnicity  : Greek/Olympian

.know thyself.

.nothing in excess.

.make a pledge and mischief is nigh.


Kyros was born in Corinth to a mortal mother; she did the best she could, given the circumstances.  But by the time he was six years old -- by the time he was starting to show that he wasn't like other kids his age -- his mother realized she'd have to give him up, for his own good.  So he was taken to Olympos and handed over to the Horae, who immediately opened the gates to allow him entry upon realizing he was a child of Apollo.

And once inside, he was given an Olympic welcome -- a party, hosted by Dionysos himself.  That very night he met the mighty Zeus, king of the Gods, and Poseidon who ruled over all of Earth and Sea, and he met Athena the Wise, beautiful Aphrodite, Ares of War -- all the Olympians and a host of minor gods whose names were familiar to him, but only just. 

And then finally, he came upon his father, Apollo in the flesh.  The God of light looked upon him with kind eyes, and then he held out a hand and welcomed Kyros home, to the realm of the Gods.



. Merely twenty-one years old, Kyros can hardly claim to know the world.  But he is wise beyond his years, possessing a philosophers mind and a warrior-heart. .


During his time in Olympos, he came into contact with numerous Gods and performed many services for them, some tasks mundane, others -- not so much.  His reputation grew as he did, as his skills improved and as he was taught by the Olympians, who blessed him for his sharp tongue and sharper eyes.  He wasn't their equal by any means, but he had earned their respect, and that was enough for him.

At least, it was enough until the revelation of a coup d'etat.  Ares, son of Zeus and God of war sought to overthrow his own father, the King of the Greek Gods.  It wasn't the first time he'd sought to seize power -- but things were different this time.  Ares, having fed for years off conflict, rebellion, war and bloodlust was at the peak of his powers, while Zeus appeared weakened from thousands of years of comfort and a steady decline of worship. 

The battle between father and son lasted an entire day, it tore the sky in Olympos and shook the Earth from the next realm over, causing catastrophic damage to major cities and numerous islands in Greek territory.

The Olympians that sided with Zeus were either imprisoned or beat into submission, made to bend the knee to the new King of the Gods and ruler of Olympos.  And he believed it was time for change, that the Gods should reappear back on Earth and reclaim what was once theirs.. starting with Greece.


| Αγγελιοφόρος των Θεών  |


Many of Apollo's followers were killed during the Betrayal of Olympos, his temple sacked and burned by the Hands of Ares.  Many of the sun god's children, as well as children born of the other Olympians were hunted down and killed by the Daimons of Strife, so that they couldn't come to the aid of their divine parents, as they surely would have, as Kyros himself would have, had he not been goaded into a suicide mission by Aphrodite her-fucking-self. 

He was given specific instructions to slip quietly into Asgard, the realm of the Norse Gods, using a hood blessed by Athena to mask the wearers presence, all but making them invisible.  It would be quite the scandal, she said, if there was a Greek, one of Olympian blood-- spotted within their borders, don't you think? Especially if they discovered him within the Queen's bedchambers, which was where he was told to go, to meet Frea, wife of Odin, so that they might discuss the terms of a treaty between Olympos and Asgard.

But when he appeared before the Queen, she attacked him with the fury he'd expect of a Valkyrie, summoning the einherjar with a rallying call that echoed across all of Asgard.  It seemed his only option was to fight - to kill, or die.  But he did not wish to incur the wrath of Odin, nor any member of the Norse pantheon.  So he threw down his bow and his sword and asked.. to talk, of all things.  And although he did not expect the glorious Frea to entertain his request, she bid the einherjar stand down, but she did not lower her weapon until the end of his tale, until finally she understood that they had both been betrayed.

By the time Kyros realized why he'd been sent away, it was already too late.  Ares had claimed the seat of the world, and laid waste to half of Olympos with his fiery wrath, and the only smart thing to do-- was run as fleet of foot as swift winged Hermes himself.


| Μαντικός |




A handsome young demigod; Kyros has his mothers blonde hair with dark brown undertones carried over from his fathers genetics.  His eyes the green-blue color of copper rust and his skin deeply tanned from an Olympian sun, etched with lines of taut muscle.  Perhaps, on the outside, he appears mortal.  

But on the inside he couldn't be further from; with bones and muscles as dense as steel, if not more durable still.  His DNA is an amalgamation of magic and natural biology and because of it he is faster, stronger, smarter and sharper than the average human, and simply capable of exerting extreme feats a mortal could only achieve in their wildest dreams.  For instance, firing an arrow across the length of a city and still hitting his mark, or healing a broken body, or taming beasts of the wild with little more than absent thoughts in the back of a distracted mind.

But his greatest powers lie in the mind and the eyes; the power to read a persons heart and see the truth of their soul, to weigh their words for honesty and deceipt.  This means, while it is possible to form a lie and speak it, he will always know it is a lie.  But to do so is no easy feat; mere proximity to Kyros is enough to make a person want to speak the truth, to share every lifes-secret until the throat is raw and dry.  Using physical contact, he can actually drag the truth from the depths of a persons consciousness-- an extremely painful, but overtly useful tactic.

And his power of the mind is to see things before they come to pass; a scroll with ever changing script, the doors to the future are open to him.  He can peer through, look along the thousand broken twisted paths that lead to a thousand futures.  He doesn't always understand his visions, but they are his nonetheless- burden and gift.


January 25

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  • Among those scrutinizing eyes were those of another, far less divine being. A creature of ancient power, born when the world was still new to mankind. Not a god, nor a mortal, nor a monster that murdered savagely...but something in between these things. Yes, the gaze of an unusual immortal laid upon the demigod's form, examining him like one would a work of art. 

    He sat in the farthest corner of the room, watching the unfamiliar entity wander in. While he didn't recognize his features, he certainly felt the familiar tinge of power that came from his bow. A power he knew to be that of The Huntress, Goddess of the Moon and Purity- Artemis. In ages past, she had blessed him with a similar gift in exchange for his unwavering faith in her, and kindness towards the living things of nature. For all intents and purposes, it seemed as though this youth had a connection to her as well. 

    Curious about this matter, the ancient wrote a small note on a napkin, and kindly requested that their 'waiter' deliver it to them. Written upon the note was a simple but carefully conceived message, penned entirely in latin. "Beneficium de Sola et Luna voce. Curiositas percutio mei, et rego mei oculi divinus voce forma. Donus mei vos anima et sino libere oro." Sadly, the writer himself could not be sure that the grammar of his note was correct, as it had been many centuries since he'd spoken extensively in Latin. As best as he could determine, the translation was- "Blessing of the Sun and Moon to you. Curiosity strikes me and guides my eyes to your divine form. Give me your will, and let me speak freely."

  • Hey, great page!

    Let me know if you'd like to write?

  • \New York is all right. Auna is dark Nephilim, although with her unknown lineage she might be an Nephalem. She's a Shadowhunter, Assassin, PI, and Supernatural Huntress.\

  • {{I believe it may be interesting, especially when she is on bad terms with Ares herself.}}

  • [Thank you, yours is as well.. I hope we can possibly plot?]

  • \\Thank you for the invite

  • -- It's a pleasure to meet a fan :) America perhaps, if that is suitable for you? What do you have in mind? I think this will be fun. --

  • I knew it :l

  •    The Mistress blinked as her golden hues adjusted to the LED lights that illuminated the inside of the building. The Architecture of the building continued on the inside. Tall pale stone pillars rose into the top of the fifteen-foot ceilings. Honestly, anyone with fine taste such as Valkyrie would have paused to take in the scenery. 

      The door didn't click closed behind her. She didn't think too much of it. This was not just a meeting of many slaves but many Masters as well. More would be rolling in any time now. In the grand entrance area stood a small pillared desk. A host leaned against the opposite side, awaiting the next Master. 


      A name was spoken from that vile tongue of hers. Her tone was lower and held an odd pang of natural intimidation to it. Still, the smoothness in her voice beckoned you to trust her. Golden hues scanned the same notebook that the Host flipped through until he found her and all her information. Age: 214 years. Residence: Katalam, Russia. Status: Mistress. 

      Valkyrie rose her hand near her face to examine her fingernails as he dealt with the paperwork side of things. Once she was released to enter, the Mistress did just that. Turning towards the dimmed hall, Valkyrie went on her way. A pause as a hostess with an oddly natural set of bunny ears paced by with elegant glasses of red wine. Val was sure to grab herself a glass. That's when she saw him, still, on the other side of the Host's desk, the man she'd passed earlier outside. He didn't seem like the Master/slave type. This caused an eyebrow raise from Valkyrie as she crossed one arm over the other, careful not to tip her full glass of wine. She did not proceed but instead watched the next few moments. 

  • Kas had absolute zero empathy whatsoever. He couldn't even pretend to know what someone thought or felt. He could sometimes instill thoughts or emotions though. Those weak of will could become anxious if Kas was feeling certain emotions, or they could become passionate, if Kas was too. And usually that passion was anger, and not... the good kind. To keep it short, if Kas felt any emotion strongly enough, chaos would ensue. And to keep it all short, and to avoid repitions. Whatever Kas did, had chaotic consequences, and usually bad ones. Though, these consequences was just a fraction of what the Apple of Discord could cause. Of course, being part human, he could sometimes choose his own fate to some regard. His divine ripple effect powers didn't always have bad outcomes. But because he was afraid of his inner self, and because he despised his mother - though somewhere he also loved her. Blood is thicker than water and all that or something - he didn't know how to use his 'gift' as, well, a gift. 

    It's a mess.

    His dark, near black, eyes shifted between the stranger's eyes and his bow. That was not something you saw often. Either that was one skilled costume designer, or... It was almost as if it had been made by Hephaistos himself. He recognised the style of craftmanship, as it was very similar to something he himself was in posession of. The previously named 'apple'. It too was golden, with pulsing light emitting from it as if though it were alive. Immense power, forged into a single item for only those of divine blood to wield. Though in some cases, like the Apple, not even gods should wield them. If Kyros were to really read into the other man, he'd sense the faint pulsating of the Apple that was shielded from plain sight by magical means. In fact, Kas never went anywhere without it. He couldn't trust anyone, or himself to not forget it. And so, he'd - with the help of his unlce Thanatos - gotten his hands on a shard of the Cap of Invisibility, Hades' famed helm, with which he infused with a remarkably carved box, which was similar to the one that famed Pandora had once been in possession of. But this box was crafted by Nyx, the night. 

    Now, the shard of the Cap of Invisibilty, Thanatos had retrieved from the lost island of Sarpedon, home of the gorgons Medusa, Stheno, and Euryale. It had been scratched off by one of Medusa's sisters after Perseus had assassinated her in her sleep. He had worn the helmet so that he could get into the temple unsees by Medusa's sisters, but had removed it briefly after he'd slain the beast in shock when the children she had carried birthed from her now dead corpse. A child with golden skin and a foal with large white wings. Stheno and Euryale had heard the ordeal and come to investigate, only to see Perseus standing atop their slaughtered sister, with her children crying for a mother. A part of the helmet had been clawed off as Perseus escaped. And it had been laying there, in the dust, for centuries until Thanatos came across it. The details of the story might not have been accurate, the tale had been retold over and over, and some of it was just presumption. But what was fact, was the shard of the cap.

    Kas' face crinkled up into an intense frown the more his gaze lingered on the strange bow. And then a name that caused him to choke on air. And then... was that an innuendo? He shook off his frown and threw an unimpressed gaze at the stranger. "...Apollo, huh? You think highly of yourself." he said, pretending not to think as highly himself of the man. That sure was a body of- moving on. He tried to seem like he thought the man was lying, although he did suspect he spoke the truth. Maybe he hoped he was wrong. He didn't think his mother, or any of his massive family would appreciate if he was seen with the child of Apollo. And what if he spoke the truth, however unlikely? What was he supposed to do? Fight him? Yeah, no, he wouldn't stand a chance. He might've been swift with the pen, but truthfully - the pen was not mightier than the sword... bow, whatever. 

    "So... What're you even doing here? Haven't seen you here before" He continued, although it might seem weird for him to react to strangers in a city. It was just that this particular alley was situated in a way that made it unattractive to passers-by. It wasn't a short cut to anything, and the only people that had ever been here were the same people who'd lived here ever since he moved here two years ago. And it reeked of trash. Aside from the old Asian lady who threw her trash out her door instead of in the dumpsters, there was this one man in his late forties that always seemed to throw things that smelled worse than anything else. It was as if though he threw pieces of rotting flesh. Which he also did. Unbeknownst to Khaos, the man had a mouse farm in his house, and they often ate each other because he didn't feed them enough. Everytime a mouse died, he just threw it in the regular trash. Sanitary. "Did you just move here, or what?" he asked, thinking that maybe the stranger had jumped out a window or something. It was strange how he appeared out of seeminly nowhere. He threw a gaze at the facade but all windows seemed to be closed.

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