Post by Xander on Apr 28, 2009 15:21:34 GMT -5
Zeus and Apollo were walking through Thebes. (They may have walked into a bar... but that's not the point. Sounds good though, doesn't it?) Zeus looked down upon his puppy-eyed worshippers and commented on the perfection of the human race. Like every son who wants to one-up his father, Apollo scoffed, bragging that he could do better with one hand tied behind his back. To prove his point, he found a nymph to bear his more-perfect children, children who would hold the fate of the world in their hands. It was as true then as it is now—absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Sure, Apollo's had liaisons before, but he royally screwed it up with this one.
Made from his own flesh and blood, he dubbed the new race Apollite and gave them superior strength and psychic abilities. In three days, the first four Apollites were born, blond and beautiful and with psychic abilities. Three days later, they were adults. Three days after that, they were ready to take over the world.
Zeus wasn't having any of that nonsense. So he banned them from the earth. 'Cause he can do that sort of thing.
He banished the Apollites to Atlantis, where they brooded and stewed, intermarrying with the Atlantean natives. They were an aggressive race, ever pursuing their hunger for world conquest. The Apollites and Atlanteans intermarried, mixing blood until they truly became a race of people whose powers were unmatched. Apollo did not dissuade them. He looked forward to the day he would sit on Olympus as Supreme God.
In 10,500 B.C., the Apollites sent the beautiful virgin Clieto to Delphi as an offering to Apollo. The god fell in love with her, and she gave birth to ten of his children: five sets of twins. Clieto and her children were sent back to Atlantis, to intermarry with the Atlantean royal family and, inevitably, secure the rule of Atlantis by Apollo. Through Atlantis, Apollo meant to cast out Zeus and take his rightful place as ruler of the heavens and the earth.
After all, that's how Zeus did it. And his father before him... Apollo was just following the family tradition at this point.
Apollo himself fathered the first son of every Atlantean queen, hoping that each child would be the one chosen to bring about the downfall of the Atlantean gods. Each year, the Oracles turned him away.
(Now, this part gets confusing, so pay attention. It's a bit like the shell game. Baby, baby, who's got the baby… Yeah, I've never been good at that one either.)
In 9548 B.C., Apollo fathered another son on the Atlantean queen, seducing her in the guise of her dead husband as a phan¬tom in a dream. Talk about one seriously potent dream. Voilà: baby number one: Stryker.
The same year, the dreaded queen of the Atlantean gods, Apollymi, found that she was not barren, as had been originally supposed—she was pregnant with her first child. A child, the Fates declared, who would bring about the end of their pan¬theon.
Enter baby number two: Apostolos.
Well, Archon wasn't ready to schedule the apocalypse just yet. His child or not, he demanded that his wife slay the baby upon its birth for the good of the world.
Right. Like Apollymi was going to let that happen.
She gave birth to her son prematurely, in secret, and hid him away. Lucky baby number two. When the time came to present Archon with the baby, Apollymi gave him a baby made of stone wrapped in swaddling.
Archon was furious. He knew his wife had hidden her baby... no doubt in the womb of a mortal woman. (Human wombs are apparently an exceptionally convenient place for gods needing to hide a cursed baby without a moment's notice.)
Which brings us back to baby numero uno: Stryker.
Archon knew the Atlantean queen was pregnant, so he demanded that her baby be slain as well.
You know, women don't take really well to executive orders regarding the death of their children.
By now, the queen had figured out that the baby she carried was Apollo's son. She knew that Apollo would never let his son be killed, especially by the Atlantean gods. She kept that smug thought close to her heart all throughout her labor. Only... the moment after she gave birth to her son, he was slain before her eyes.
What the Atlantean queen didn't know was that Apollo had pulled his own switcheroo—with the help of Artemis, Apollo had placed his unborn child inside the womb of one of his priestesses at Delphi.
The child the Atlantean queen had given birth to was baby number three.
Poor baby number three. He didn't live long enough to be a problem and the poor human queen wasn't told about the switch.
The Atlantean queen hated Apollo for abandoning her and her now-deceased child... and with good reason. A widow, she also resented the fact that Apollo never came back to her bed to get her pregnant again. She steeped in that bitterness, letting it infect her and poison her soul. Letting it breed vengeance. Letting the dish get nice and cold before she served it to Apollo on a silver platter.
Based on Apollo's gigolo history, she knew it was only a matter of time.
In 9529 B.C., nineteen years later, the Greeks gave it a go and tried to woo Apollo to their cause. They knew fighting against the Apollites was a lost cause, so to help win favor with Apollo and hopefully gain his backing they sent to him Ryssa, the most beautiful woman ever born. Ryssa instantly charmed the god and won his heart. Having the same weaknesses all deities seem to have, Apollo succumbed to her beauty and sowed his ever-fertile god seed. Ryssa bore him a son, and the tide of war changed in favor of the Greeks.
The Atlantean queen immediately ordered the death of Ryssa and her son, instructing her minions to not hold back in their brutality, to make it look as if wild animals had torn the woman and child to shreds.
They did their job, perhaps a little too well.
And so Apollo destroyed Atlantis (at least that's what Apollo says).
His beloved sister Artemis managed to stop him before hr destroyed all the Apollites (and with them, the world), so instead he cursed his wayward children. He named them the wild animals that had slaughtered his mistress and son, giving them characteristics befitting such beasts (the fangs and eyes of predators) and forcing them to feed on one another's blood every few days in order to survive. He banished them from his domain, the sun, as he could no longer bear to look upon them and be reminded of their treachery.
To this day, Apollites only live to the age of twenty-seven: three times three times three, the age Ryssa was at her death. On the last day they die an excruciatingly painful death, slowly disintegrating to dust until the sun finally sets.
Sure, Apollo's had liaisons before, but he royally screwed it up with this one.
Made from his own flesh and blood, he dubbed the new race Apollite and gave them superior strength and psychic abilities. In three days, the first four Apollites were born, blond and beautiful and with psychic abilities. Three days later, they were adults. Three days after that, they were ready to take over the world.
Zeus wasn't having any of that nonsense. So he banned them from the earth. 'Cause he can do that sort of thing.
He banished the Apollites to Atlantis, where they brooded and stewed, intermarrying with the Atlantean natives. They were an aggressive race, ever pursuing their hunger for world conquest. The Apollites and Atlanteans intermarried, mixing blood until they truly became a race of people whose powers were unmatched. Apollo did not dissuade them. He looked forward to the day he would sit on Olympus as Supreme God.
In 10,500 B.C., the Apollites sent the beautiful virgin Clieto to Delphi as an offering to Apollo. The god fell in love with her, and she gave birth to ten of his children: five sets of twins. Clieto and her children were sent back to Atlantis, to intermarry with the Atlantean royal family and, inevitably, secure the rule of Atlantis by Apollo. Through Atlantis, Apollo meant to cast out Zeus and take his rightful place as ruler of the heavens and the earth.
After all, that's how Zeus did it. And his father before him... Apollo was just following the family tradition at this point.
Apollo himself fathered the first son of every Atlantean queen, hoping that each child would be the one chosen to bring about the downfall of the Atlantean gods. Each year, the Oracles turned him away.
(Now, this part gets confusing, so pay attention. It's a bit like the shell game. Baby, baby, who's got the baby… Yeah, I've never been good at that one either.)
In 9548 B.C., Apollo fathered another son on the Atlantean queen, seducing her in the guise of her dead husband as a phan¬tom in a dream. Talk about one seriously potent dream. Voilà: baby number one: Stryker.
The same year, the dreaded queen of the Atlantean gods, Apollymi, found that she was not barren, as had been originally supposed—she was pregnant with her first child. A child, the Fates declared, who would bring about the end of their pan¬theon.
Enter baby number two: Apostolos.
Well, Archon wasn't ready to schedule the apocalypse just yet. His child or not, he demanded that his wife slay the baby upon its birth for the good of the world.
Right. Like Apollymi was going to let that happen.
She gave birth to her son prematurely, in secret, and hid him away. Lucky baby number two. When the time came to present Archon with the baby, Apollymi gave him a baby made of stone wrapped in swaddling.
Archon was furious. He knew his wife had hidden her baby... no doubt in the womb of a mortal woman. (Human wombs are apparently an exceptionally convenient place for gods needing to hide a cursed baby without a moment's notice.)
Which brings us back to baby numero uno: Stryker.
Archon knew the Atlantean queen was pregnant, so he demanded that her baby be slain as well.
You know, women don't take really well to executive orders regarding the death of their children.
By now, the queen had figured out that the baby she carried was Apollo's son. She knew that Apollo would never let his son be killed, especially by the Atlantean gods. She kept that smug thought close to her heart all throughout her labor. Only... the moment after she gave birth to her son, he was slain before her eyes.
What the Atlantean queen didn't know was that Apollo had pulled his own switcheroo—with the help of Artemis, Apollo had placed his unborn child inside the womb of one of his priestesses at Delphi.
The child the Atlantean queen had given birth to was baby number three.
Poor baby number three. He didn't live long enough to be a problem and the poor human queen wasn't told about the switch.
The Atlantean queen hated Apollo for abandoning her and her now-deceased child... and with good reason. A widow, she also resented the fact that Apollo never came back to her bed to get her pregnant again. She steeped in that bitterness, letting it infect her and poison her soul. Letting it breed vengeance. Letting the dish get nice and cold before she served it to Apollo on a silver platter.
Based on Apollo's gigolo history, she knew it was only a matter of time.
In 9529 B.C., nineteen years later, the Greeks gave it a go and tried to woo Apollo to their cause. They knew fighting against the Apollites was a lost cause, so to help win favor with Apollo and hopefully gain his backing they sent to him Ryssa, the most beautiful woman ever born. Ryssa instantly charmed the god and won his heart. Having the same weaknesses all deities seem to have, Apollo succumbed to her beauty and sowed his ever-fertile god seed. Ryssa bore him a son, and the tide of war changed in favor of the Greeks.
The Atlantean queen immediately ordered the death of Ryssa and her son, instructing her minions to not hold back in their brutality, to make it look as if wild animals had torn the woman and child to shreds.
They did their job, perhaps a little too well.
And so Apollo destroyed Atlantis (at least that's what Apollo says).
His beloved sister Artemis managed to stop him before hr destroyed all the Apollites (and with them, the world), so instead he cursed his wayward children. He named them the wild animals that had slaughtered his mistress and son, giving them characteristics befitting such beasts (the fangs and eyes of predators) and forcing them to feed on one another's blood every few days in order to survive. He banished them from his domain, the sun, as he could no longer bear to look upon them and be reminded of their treachery.
To this day, Apollites only live to the age of twenty-seven: three times three times three, the age Ryssa was at her death. On the last day they die an excruciatingly painful death, slowly disintegrating to dust until the sun finally sets.