2-proclethys

Queen Adrene of the country Calydon gave birth to a boy and called him Proclethys but this boy was not the son of the soon to be king, so Queen Adrene took the baby and left it on the steps of Mount Olympus hoping the gods would show mercy on him. Two days passed until a traveler named Pantheon came and saw the boy and took him home to raise him in the town of Urenes off the coast of Crete. Proclethys grew and quickly became the strongest, fastest and tallest of all the village folk. At the age of 15 Pantheon told Proclethys that he was not his son and found him at the steps of Mount Olympus. Proclethys was excited to know that his real parents were out there and he set out to find them. He went to the town’s Smith who gave him leather clothing and Pantheon gave him his spear. It was as tall as a man with a one foot doubled sided blade at the end. Proclethys thanked the Smith and Pantheon and set out to find his parents. He took a fishing boat to Arcadia and took the wood path to the city. At noon Proclethys found a woman in tattered robes lying on the ground and ran to her to try and help. He rolled her over and the woman sprang at him. She had no eyes and razor sharp teeth. Proclethys knew what she was, a Siren. She floated around singing and chanting music. Proclethys hadn’t drawn his spear for he was distracted by the singing. In a flash of light the Siren charged Proclethys and attempted to claw him with her nails. But once she stopped singing Proclethys drew his spear, sidestepped her hand and jabbed at her. At once the Siren screamed and the spear fell from Proclethys’ hand. Suddenly the Siren’s hands glowed, it new magic! The Siren started to throw fire and lightening but every time Proclethys dodged the blows. Proclethys attempted to obtain his spear but each time he did so the Siren would scream. Proclethys took a piece of his shirt, balled it up and ran for his spear. Once the Siren opened her mouth to scream he ran at her and shoved the ball of cloth in the Siren’s mouth gagging her. As the Siren tried to remove the cloth, Proclethys picked up his spear, leisurely walked to the Siren and stabbed her. She fell to the ground dead and Proclethys continued to the castle. Before Proclethys could reach the treeline of the woods, a man appeared at the end of the woods. He was tall, strong, with a broad proud face. He wore a tunic of white with the emblem of Olympus at his waist. As he approached he said “Hello stranger, I am Hercules, champion of Olympus and I am looking for the Siren. Perhaps you have seen it?” “Yes I have. I slayed it on my way here,” replied Proclethys. Hercules’ face grew red with anger. “Then you have doomed me, therefore you shall die,” yelled Hercules. Hercules charged towards Proclethys and in no time was within reach of him. Not wanting to die on the spot, Proclethys dodged his punch and drew his spear and poked at Hercules. But Hercules grabbed the spear and ripped it from Proclethys’ hand and tried to snap it but the spear only bent. Frustrated, Hercules threw the spear at Proclethys and missed him by an inch. Proclethys charged Hercules weaponless. Hercules laughed and punched Proclethys who flew back into a tree. Hercules took up the spear and slowly walked to Proclethys who was disoriented. Hercules held up the spear and thrust downward with all his might. Before he could pierce the skin of Proclethys something stopped his strike. Hercules looked up to find Ares, the god of War, standing over him glaring with his fiery red eyes. “Now Ares, why have you stopped me from killing the man who ruined my life?” “This one is mine.” Ares said coldly. Furious, Hercules threw down the spear and stormed away. Ares towered over Proclethys, picked him up and put him on his feet. “Who are you?” asked Proclethys. “Your father, boy.” replied Ares. “What would your name be ‘father’?” asked Proclethys. “Ares.” replied Ares. “Do not mock me for losing a fight and having you save me. You are no god.” said Proclethys. “Do you want proof?” inquired Ares. “Yes, make this spear a sword.” replied Proclethys sarcastically, feeling confident the stranger would fail. “What type of sword- long sword, short sword, two handed sword or broad sword?” asked Ares. “Two handed made of the greatest metal and is as tall as a man.” said Proclethys knowing the man had none of the materials to make this. “Fine.” stated Ares plainly. With a wave of his hand the simple spear changed into a giant two handed sword as tall as a man with a double sided blade made of an unknown blue metal, a hilt wrapped in leather. “What metal is the blade made of?” asked Proclethys who fell to the ground in amazement that the person in front of him was a god. “It’s sygian mythral, the best metal you can find.” said Ares. “I’ll give you this blade if you will do me a favor.” said Ares. “Anything.” said Proclethys. “Kill the Furies of Hades.” said Ares with an evil grin. “It shall be done, my lord.” said Proclethys. Ares tossed Proclethys the blade and vanished in a fiery tornado. Wait, how shall I find my way to the underworld wondered Proclethys? Then he noticed a piece of paper left on the ground. It said “find the Gray Sisters, they know the way.” Proclethys knew who the Gray Sisters were but not how to find them. So he set out for Arcadia. He entered the city of Arcadia to find it full of people. Markets lined the streets, filled with people buying food, clothing, jewelry and furniture. He made his way through the lower city and approached the upper city. It was made of solid stone, white as a cloud, buildings high above towered over Proclethys. Once he was able to see the path to the upper city, he noticed the guards were blocking the way. He knew there was no way to get past them easily. He moved to them and told the Captain there “I wish to have an audience with your King.” said Proclethys. “Not going to happen” said the guard. “What if a god commands it” asked Proclethys? “And what god would have you see my lord” asked the guard suspiciously. “Ares and it is bad fortune to anger such a god” said Proclethys a little annoyed. The guard took Proclethys by his arm and another guard by his other arm and dragged him off to the King. The castle came into view and it looked as if it was made by Hephaestus himself, for it was a masterpiece, golden with obsidian columns, statues of Zeus, Poseidon and Hades were standing facing each other in the court yard before the main entrance. Proclethys was dragged inside and held in front of the King. “Who is this man” asked the King lazily? “An infidel who dares threaten us with the wrath of Ares” said the guard. “Ha! This can not be the spawn of a god, nor their champion, this is a beggar or an assassin. Kill him now for you have wasted my time” said the King. The guards took their swords and prepared to slash down upon Proclethys when he yelled “Ares, give me strength”! At once a column of fire shot down from above and hit the two guards and Proclethys and incinerated the carpet below. Once it disappeared Proclethys stood before them, on fire but unharmed. He took his newly acquired sword and slowly walked to the King. “Please, you have shown your proof. Spare me, I beg you” cried the King cowering on his thrown, horrified by what he had just seen. “Now you are at my mercy. Answer my question truthfully and I might not kill you” said Proclethys. “Anything you desire, just don’t harm me” whimpered the King. “Tell me where the Gray Sister’s are” said Proclethys glaring at the King. “You are a fool to seek them. They will kill you but seeing that I am at your mercy, they reside at the Cavern of Torment near Mount Orphus” said the King. “Thank you but I do believe the people deserve a new King. Good bye” said Proclethys as he struck down the King. The blade seemed to take the soul of the King and absorb it’s essence but Proclethys took no mind to it. He left the city that was now in panic that the King had been killed by a servant of the gods. Proclethys made his way to a stable outside of the city and asked how much for a steed only to learn that since the King’s death none were allowed to leave the land. Angered by this he struck down the Stable Master and stole a steed. Moments later guards came out firing bows and attempting to slay him. Proclethys knew those who used bows were weak with the blade or weak with the bow. So he slowed down, turned around and charged them, sword drawn. The sun was setting and Proclethys seemed to be a figure of shadow and flame. His blade glowed a fiery blood red. His eyes bore into them as he approached. Fear crept into the hearts of the soldiers for they knew no man could stop this devil spawn of the gods. Once Proclethys got close enough he leapt from his horse and hacked and slashed through all the men for Ares demanded the blood of his enemies as payment for saving Proclethys. After the fight the sword absorbed the souls of the fallen, strengthening Proclethys. He walked until he found a path. There was a sign saying Mount Orphus. Proclethys looked around until he saw the jagged spike of a mountain, a storm brewing overhead screamed and wailing came from there, roars and growls echoed off the trees, Proclethys knew his end would come if he came too close to the mountain so he went around until he saw a cavern. It was small but wide enough for him to duck through as he entered. The stench of the dead came, skeletons lined the walls, the ceiling started to rise as Proclethys came to a room. Three very old looking women were standing over a fire cackling to themselves. Proclethys drew his blade while cautiously walking towards the old women. He placed his blade next to one of their heads and the other two spun around noticing Proclethys presence. “What do you want with us you fiend” roared one. She had a deep voice and sounded as if she had not drank in a long time. “Quiet Alarm, you are too loud” wailed another. “Dread, tell him to take his blade off me” yelled the one Proclethys had his blade on. “Why, you have the tooth Horror” yelled Alarm. “Well I would if I had the eye” screamed Horror. “No, you had it last time” barked Alarm. “Shut up!” roared Proclethys. “Or you shall feel this blade and shall have neither tooth nor eye”. At once they all stopped yelling and faced Proclethys. Two had empty eye sockets, but one had a bloodshot red eye. The one called Alarm had the eye and the one called Horror had one rotten pitch black tooth. They smiled and revealed their bare gums. They lunged at Proclethys but he was prepared. He grabbed Horror, kicked Alarm away and dodged Dread. He started to choke Horror until she opened her mouth. He took the tooth and tossed her aside, still alive. He leisurely walked to Alarm and began punching her in the face until she opened her eye. He ripped her eye out and walked away with eye and tooth in hand. Proclethys waited until the three sisters got up and were aware that none of them had the tooth or eye. “Where is it? Where could it be? We have lost it and we have no eye to see or tooth to chew” they wailed. “I have both, eye and tooth you hags” said Proclethys. “Give them back you villain, give them back” they wailed. “Shut your mouth or I shall destroy your eye and tooth and then kill you” shouted Proclethys. “Tell me how I can enter the underworld”. “You could die” said Horror. Proclethys crushed the tooth! “What was that?” the sisters said in alarm. “Your tooth” said Proclethys dryly. “No!” GRRR “Do not harm the eye, please” they screamed. “Then tell me, you fools” said Proclethys. “There is a path that will lead you to the River Styx. It is not far, it is at the top of the mountain” they wailed. “You lie” said Proclethys as he crushed the eye and left. He approached the mountain hearing the wails of the sister and of monsters. He found the base of the mountain and began to climb for he did not know where to go. So he went to climb up and jump to his death. He climbed for days. With his hands bleeding he continued until he reached the top and roared “Ares, forgive me for I have failed you. Have mercy upon me” and jumped face first off the mountain. He fell for hours, eyes open facing the ground waiting to die a failure. Finally the ground approached and a grin crept on Proclethys’ face. He hit the ground and all went dark but he was still falling. A glimmer of light came, he was in the underworld. As he fell he could see the palace of Hades and the River Styx. The cries of the eternally damned echoed off the course stalactites that were on the ceiling. The torturers, the Furies, cackled and screamed in delight. The tart, sweet smell of pomegranate burned Proclethys’ nose as he approached the ground. A Harpy swooped down and grabbed Proclethys. Unable to reach his sword, he punched the Harpy until it dropped him on the other side of the River Styx. Proclethys was stranded, there was nothing behind him and the river in front of him. Images of people’s dreams that never came true passed by before him- wedding attire, helmets, homes and toys. A barge approached the island in which Proclethys stood. It docked and a bridge was placed for people to walk on. As it hit the ground, spirits of the dead appeared and rushed on only to be stopped by Charon, the Ferrier of the Dead. Proclethys walked up and Charon took his rowing rod and pointed at Proclethys with it and said in a raspy voice “Only the dead may embark”. “I do not have time for your words, nor money to buy your service” spat Proclethys. “Then leave or suffer the consequences” said Charon. “What can you do that is worse that the wrath of a god” said Proclethys. Proclethys did not wait for an answer. He took his blade and stabbed the Ferrier absorbing his soul. The blade glowed with a fiery light and when it dimmed the blade turned a slight shade of red. Proclethys did not notice. He took the rowing rod and paddled away with the spirits to Ebrus where the judges would decide the dead’s fate. They were former kinds, one being Minos. As they docked, Proclethys noticed the dead went into two lines, both as long as the eye could see. Skeletons lined the rows, they had swords, shields and helmets. Their eyes probed all that passed for Hades did not want those that lived to disturb him. Proclethys made his way to the line, passing the dead but as he passed the skeleton it drew it’s blade and began to attack. Proclethys being tired of fighting, took the skeleton’s arm which popped as it came out and batted the skeleton away. A little ways down the clattering of bones sounded and all the skeletons moved in on Proclethys, even the one Proclethys had broken. He drew his blade and began striking them down but he was outnumbered. For each one he felled, more would fill in. His blade absorbed each one that Proclethys killed. Proclethys began to back up, becoming outmatched. He knew he didn’t have much room to go as the River Styx was closing in. He charged the skeletons, not to fight but to break their lines. He ducked his head, placed his elbow out and rammed the dead down. He passed the lines of the dead rushing to the fields of judgment only to be stopped by a 20 foot tall, three headed dog, Cerberus the king of the hellhounds. Proclethys knew that the beast had been outsmarted by music but he had neither instrument nor could he sing so he would have to fight the creature and discourage it. He took out his blade, it was blood red now. The beast chomped at Proclethys only to be stabbed in the nose. Cerberus took his paw and stomped on Proclethys to get a blade in the paw. It opened it’s maw and dark flames shot out from his mouth. Proclethys crouched low and leapt onto Cerberus slashing his middle neck and making small cuts. He leapt to the left neck and did the same thing then to the right. He jumped off Cerberus who had fallen over, exhausted and hurt. Proclethys walked past and approached a seat in the middle of no where. He sat down and a voice echoed from far away. “Ah, I see this one lives. What shall we do?” “Nothing. Let him go before he gets mad” warned another voice. “And does what, kills us? Ha! He can not even see us” said a third voice. “Judges of Hades, tell me where the Furies are and you may live” shouted Proclethys. “Ha! You would kill us” said the first voice. “Of course he would. He would kill anyone” said the second voice. “Then let us vote what we do” said the third voice. “I move to kill him” said the first voice. “I vote to tell him” said the second voice. “It is hard for me to say but I second Minos so we shall tell him” said the third voice. “Thank you wise judges” said Proclethys with a smirk. “The Furies reside at Hades’ castle when they are done tormenting the damned” said Minos. “Good bye judges” said Proclethys as he left. He walked through the fields of Asphodel to find the palace barred not by a gate but by solid shadow. “Hades, why do you impede me? Open this gate so that I may be done with this quest” shouted Proclethys. The shadow wall faded. The horrid screams of the Furies echoed off the palace. Three shadows appeared in the sky as Proclethys entered. The Furies descended. They had bat wings, hag faces and grotesque bodies that seemed to be a mixture of a bat, a woman and a bird. “You shall die and know what true torture is” said Proclethys. “You shall be fun to torment for eternity” screeched one of the Furies. They each spread out forming a triangle around Proclethys. Being very impatient, Proclethys charged at one and struck it down leaving two Furies left. “You are not worth the effort I have gone through. You are no greater than the Ferrier of the Dead” taunted Proclethys. The remaining two Furies screeched and flaming whips appeared in their hands. They lashed at Proclethys trying to entangling his hands or feet. Proclethys charged at another Fury and slashed, the Fury dodged and wrapped her whip on his blade attempted to disarm Proclethys. The Fury tugged and tugged with little success. Proclethys waited until the Fury tugged her hardest and as she did Proclethys used the force and propelled himself forward, stabbing the second Fury. The final Fury took to the sky and lashed at Proclethys. Unable to hit the final Fury Proclethys stabbed his blade into the ground and waited undefended. The Fury scooped down and grabbed Proclethys by his shoulders flying higher and higher. But before she could drop him Proclethys grabbed her talon and yanked at her pulling himself up and dropping lowering their height. He did this until he touched the ground and dragged the Fury to his blade and pulled her through it. The blade turned a shadowy black. Proclethys shouted to the sky “Ares, I have proven my worth, come to me. I am in need of your assistance.” In a flash of red light Ares appeared, angry. “You fool, you were supposed to die. You are worthless to me. You ruined the Gray Sisters, killed Charon and angered the Judges. For these reasons you shall die” said Ares. Ares grabbed Proclethys’ blade and stabbed him. The black blade shattered as Proclethys died. The souls that he had slain went free. Proclethys was sent to be chained to the ground and impaled for eternity. Everytime he died and gets revived someone dies and becomes born.
 * __Proclethys__ **