The Lens I See This Through

This is responding to a Facebook conversation. I wanted to explain the background I was speaking from unambiguously, but not overwhelm the thread with a very, very long post about myself, so I'm putting what I want to say here, where it won't be forced upon anyone unless they click the link.

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Simply because I don't want to leave this conversation with everyone thinking I'm a "rapey" misogynistic "angry meninist" I want to explain the lens I've watched all of this through.

I have basically lived my entire life in the social limbo between masculine and feminine. I'm not trans*, but I never identified with the attitudes and experiences of other boys as a child. I grew up outright resenting the fact that I was born male, as I sincerely felt men were the lesser gender. That's not melodrama or satire. I'm neuroatyipical; I struggle with feelings of shame, low self-worth, and think about suicide *frequently*. When I was young, most of the focus of that was on my sex/gender identity.

Because of that, I grew up with most of my friends being female. At any given time, my male friends numbered between 0 and 2, leaning heavily to 0. My parents encouraged me to participate in scouting and sports, but nothing changed the fact that for the most part, I did not like the other boys, and had no interest in spending time with them.

Unfortunately, there are a lot of problems with being a person with mostly friends of a different gender. The world frequently segregate activities by gender, which leaves you utterly alone. People 'hang together' within their genders, so if there's ever an issue where the group has one person too many, you're the first person to be excluded, dismissed, or ostracized. You get to hear every microaggression and 'it's just a joke' that can be directed at your gender. You're told, constantly, that 'you aren't like other' people of your gender, as if that's a compliment. And of course, the entire school decides you're gay, which really sucks if you actually aren't. None of those things go away as you get older. You just take them for granted and integrate them into your world view.

In high school, I dated a girl who was strong, independent, fierce... all qualities I loved her for. Unfortunately, she was also verbally and physically abusive. She would grope me at inappropriate times simply because it embarrassed me and made me uncomfortable. That relationship finally ended when she outright punched me one day, and I nearly punched her back. I broke up with her because I was terrified I was going to become this terrible domestic abuser. Eventually I realized that I should have been willing to break up with her simply because she was a cruel person, and realized - for the first time in my entire life - how lucky I was to be male, because if our genders had been reversed, I probably wouldn't have felt empowered to end the relationship.

After high school, I went to an engineering college in the middle of nowhere - not because I was enamored with either engineering or living in the middle of nowhere, but because that's where my two best (female) friends went, and I had no real identity beyond those relationships. The college in question had four male students to every one female student, yet, still, most of my friends were female. The men I hung out with were almost all friends of my friends, and I didn't really do much with them, because even after all of those years, I still wasn't really interested in many of the same things.

After that, it was graduate school. I thought graduate school would be great - the department I was going into was female dominated - my advisers/supervisors and colleagues would be nearly all women. I thought that would be a comfortable fit for me.

I was very wrong.

Whether or not a group is marginalized on the greater scale of things, any group given power over another in even the smallest, most limited contexts, abuses that power. Graduate school was several years of watching women do horrible things, listening to them say horrible things, and not being able to do anything about it because, as [name removed] said, "you're a man; no one cares if you're offended."

'Don't take [name removed]'s class, a man is lucky to pass it.' 

'We need to check those grades again, women don't fail my class.' 

'Oh, I would never consider hiring a male assistant.' 

'You're a man; never raise your voice in the presence of [name removed], she'll say you were threatening her and fire you like she did [name I don't remember].'

'Men aren't equipped to deal with the rigors of academia.'

'You're too hyper-masculine to fit in in this department.'

'You're here because the program's token male died.'

'Oh, you feel that men are treated badly in the department? We should definitely talk about that... some day.'

What I took away from that wasn't that women are horrible, but that it really sucks to shed sweat, tears, and blood in an environment where you're the demographic minority.

The upside to all of that, besides that lesson, is that I had years to sit through lunches, office breaks, classes, etc. and quietly listen to my female friends and colleagues. I heard their horror stories, their nightmares, their fears, and their rage. So, I haven't heard anything here that's new to me. I haven't heard anything new in years. Every meaningful conversation like this that I have had in the past half a decade has just rehashed the same handful of points.

While everyone else seems to believe they're the first person to explain rape culture, patriarchy, mansplaining, etc. to me, from my perspective, I just keep reliving the same handful of conversations. I've tried mixing things up, taking different approaches and perspectives, trying to move the conversation beyond that point. I've been polite, I've been rude, I've been academic, I've been informal, I've been self-deprecating, I've been confident. I've tried focusing on just asking questions [but that goes REALLY badly]. I avoid referencing my education so that people don't feel I'm being superior or condescending. I focus on saying what I feel or explaining what I know, and I avoid telling other people what they should feel. I stick to asynchronous text-based communication because it makes it physically impossible for me to accidentally 'talk over' a woman. The only thing I haven't really tried is stealing a groundhog and driving off a cliff with it.

But that still doesn't work, so I withdraw from the world and I write. It's literally the only thing I can do to try and make a difference. It's the only thing I'm good at. I write books to try to bridge the gender divide I've lived within my whole life. Given I sold like ten copies of my first book before just finally posting it for free - and most of those copies were purchased by women who will find nothing new in the characters' experiences - I'm sure it's probably pointless. But, it's literally all I've got that I can give to the cause.

And yes, I know that's a very, very long post about 'me me me' and people are going to see that and say, 'Oh, look how egocentric he is - just a typical entitled male making everything about himself,' but talking exclusively about my point of view is the only chance I have of getting across what I want to say without it being interpreted as aggressive or belligerent.

And, actually, it will probably still be seen that way, so FML.

Special Heroclix Hollywood Horror Scenario Rules

It has been a crazy month. I've submitted my dissertation, meaning my PhD is essentially finished. I've written a rough draft for an entire novel. I've gone to Disney World. And that's only listing off some of the good things that have happened.

Amidst all of that, I even found some time to spare for a hobby project I'd been working on. It's likely not something I've mentioned too often here, as I mostly complain about politics/philosophy and promote my blog-hosted fantasy novel, The Rise of Azraea, but I've been playing a tabletop game called Heroclix since December of 2002 (my sister got me the original big-box starter set for my birthday). Of course, I like to tinker and create things, so I've devised countless custom characters (some of which my wife has actually created custom miniatures for) and many custom scenarios. What follows is a set of rules I've been developing for a series of scenarios inspired by the classic Hollywood Action/Horror jump-scare movies. I've specifically created scenario games for Alien and Predator, but there's quite  a lot of freedom to do more.

These are guidelines for special scenarios to be played with Wizkids Heroclix pieces and a set of custom bystander tokens created by Big Bully Gaming. The scenario rules and included characters are still being refined, so if you feel something is ‘broken’ or ‘nerfed’, feel no guilt in making adjustments to your own game.

Special thanks to Pair-a-Dice games in Athens, TN, for their involvement in play testing these scenarios, HCRealms.com for their always efficient and updated reference materials, and my wife who voluntarily watched Predator 2 while I was working on this.

SECTION 1: SETTING UP THE GAME

The director places the scenario’s Title Monster on its card, and places the motion detected bystanders anywhere on the map, with each bystander a minimum of 6 squares from all other bystanders. The director assigns a different number (1-6) to each of six Plot Twist characters below. One of the Plot Twist characters assigned a number must be the scenario’s Title Monster.

The players place their characters in the starting area of their choice. Each player’s build total is limited by the total number of players challenging the monster and the desired difficulty of the game. For a challenging game, each player’s team should be equal to 300pts divided by the number of players. In other words, 2 players may build to 150pts each, 3 players to 100pts each, 4 players to 75pts each, 6 players to 50pts each, etc. For a less challenging game, reduce the number of players or raise the build total. The Halo and Star Trek: The Original Series Heroclix sets are recommended for force building.

COOPERATIVE SCENARIO PLAY: You don’t have to run faster than the monster, you only have to run faster than the slowest member of your group! In a cooperative game, players treat each other’s characters as FRIENDLY by default, but any player may choose to make an attack targeting another player’s character, even if it is considered friendly. Once such an attack is declared, the targeted character’s force becomes hostile to the attacking character’s force for the rest of the game.

COMPETITIVE SCENARIO PLAY: In a competitive scenario, the ultimate goal is to eliminate all other forces – including the other players’ forces! Players may agree to focus their efforts on dealing with the monster, but for all purposes except movement, their soldiers will still be hostile to one another regardless of any agreements to the contrary. 

• Players’ can choose to allow opposing characters to automatically break away from their own characters.
• Players’ characters cannot use SUPPORT to heal opposing players’ characters.
• Players’ characters cannot use DEFEND, ENHANCEMENT, or EMPOWER to replace or modify opposing characters’ combat values.
• Players’ characters cannot use LEADERSHIP to remove action tokens from opposing players’ characters.
• Players’ characters cannot use MASTERMIND to transfer damage to opposing players’ characters.

SECTION 2: SUSPENSE AND PLOT TWISTS

The uncertainty of a classic jump-scare horror movie is captured by the use of Motion Detected and Plot Twist bystanders cooperating with the scenario’s title monster. Motion Detected bystanders represent disturbances which might indicate the presence of the Title Monster, while Plot Twist bystanders represent distractions or environmental hazards that may be encountered while searching for the Title Monster.

The director begins the game with six Motion Detected bystanders. When a Motion Detected bystander would be dealt damage, replace it with the Plot Twist character corresponding to the number printed on the back of the Motion Detected bystander token. This is not a trait, ability, or power of the pieces being played, and cannot be countered or ignored by any other game effect. When the Title Monster is not on the map friendly Motion Detected bystanders and Plot Twist bystanders have: 

POWER: Remove this character from the map and place the scenario’s Title Monster in its square (Protected: Outwit).

PLOT TWIST BYSTANDERS

The basic rules provided above are intended to work with nearly any iconic jump-scare horror monster one might design at home, but I have specifically intended them for use with two scenarios. 

SECTION 3: SUGGESTED SCENARIOS

NOSTROMO NIGHTMARE SCENARIO GAME The ship’s crewmembers (the Players’ Forces) must use their motion trackers to search for a vicious xenomorph (played by 001 Kane’s Son) that is running loose aboard the ship. Unfortunately, the ship is noisy, with a lot of things besides the xenomorph setting off the motion trackers. Players must investigate the various signals popping up around the ship and find the xenomorph by process of elimination. 

Director’s Goal: Have the xenomorph pick off the crewmen until none are left.

•    Victory conditions: Eliminate all opposing characters from the map.

Players’ Goal: Find and destroy 001 Kane’s Son before it kills you, or survive long enough to be rescued.

• This scenario is played according to the Cooperative Play rules described above.
• Victory conditions: Players must work together to KO 001 Kane’s Son or survive for a predetermined length of time. If playing to a time limit, it is strongly recommended that game ‘time’ be tracked in number of xenomorph turns (e.g., survive 20 rounds with the xenomorph and you win) rather than in minutes/seconds, as in the latter scenario players may ‘wind out the clock’ to avoid their fates. If you must set a conventional time limit for the game, the recommended limit is 1hr 57min, and players should have popcorn prepared before the time starts. Any prizes awarded after the game should be awarded to all survivors.

JUNGLE HUNT SCENARIO GAME Opposing factions (the Players’ Forces) fight for control of a strategic point, only to become prey for a mysterious, third party. They must use their motion trackers to search for the attacker (009 The Predator). Unfortunately, the jungle is alive with activity, and their foe has the ability to seemingly disappear into thin air. Players must survive their predator and each other. 

Director’s Goal: Stock the Predator’s trophy cabinet with new skulls.

• Victory conditions: Accrue more points than either of the opposing factions.

Players’ Goal: Defeat the opposing player(s) and either find and defeat the Predator before it kills you, or survive long enough to escape to da choppah.

• This scenario is played according to the Competitive Play rules described above.
• Victory conditions: Defeat opposing players and either KO the Predator or survive for a predetermined length of time. If playing to a time limit, it is strongly recommended that game ‘time’ be tracked in number of Predator turns (e.g., survive 10 rounds with the Predator and you win) rather than in minutes/seconds, as in the latter scenario players may ‘wind out the clock’ to avoid their fates. If you must set a conventional time limit for the game, the recommended limit is 1hr 47min, and players should have popcorn prepared before the time starts.

SECTION 5: TITLE MONSTERS

ALIEN

001 KANE’S SON is considered UNIQUE and uses the stats and powers described below. The director should track Kane’s Son’s current click number using a d12 or a standard Heroclix Dial. Note: 001 Kane’s Son begins play on click 10, and heals upward over the course of the game. 

PREDATOR

009 THE PREDATOR is considered UNIQUE and uses the stats and powers described below. The director should track The Predator’s current click number using a d12 or a standard Heroclix Dial. Note: The Predator (The Great Hunt) begins play on click #1, but must unlock many of its more creative weapons by defeating enemies. 

009a THE PREDATOR (THE GREAT HUNT)

009b THE PREDATOR (THE FINAL DUEL)

Of course, you might have noticed that blogspot doesn't provide a great platform for posting these, so be sure to check out the PDF I have uploaded here for a nice, easy-to-print version. 

Have fun!

The Hunt (4/4)

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While Odysseus and his friends had been dealing with Artemis’s handiwork, it had fallen to Adresteia to deal with the goddess herself. They squared off for a moment before Artemis broke her stance, “This fight is senseless – there will be plenty of other prey in the forest tonight.” She turned and ran into woods.

Adresteia remembered Artemis’s hunting tactics. This whole show of power was to get the mortals panicked and scattered, running through woods that she’d doubtlessly filled with deadly traps. With her animal worshippers, Artemis could dig pits, set up deadfalls quickly, and lay out all manner of tripping hazards. Artemis liked to preach about her stewardship of nature, but when she hunted she was bloodthirsty, struggling to stop. If Adresteia allowed her to go, she’d stalk the survivors of her traps and pick them off one at a time, until she’d wiped them all out.

Adresteia chased her into the forest. Whatever she was – and Adresteia still wasn’t entirely sure she understood – it came with some definite perks. Shape-shifting, lightning, nigh immortal durability, and senses and reflexes beyond those of ordinary human beings. Those last two assets were life savers – she narrowly dodged some arrows in the dark, and barely avoided a deep pit that would have trapped her long enough for Artemis to get a killing blow.

Artemis’s laughter seemed to ricochet through the woods, echoing all around Adresteia as if they were in a cave. It was unnerving.

“Why are you doing this?” Adresteia asked, “You can’t really be this crazy? Can you?”

“Is it crazy?” Artemis said, her voice coming from nowhere in particular, “I’m worshipped in every city in Greece. There are temples, festivals, and sacrifices. But in the end, none of them respect me!”

“What more do you expect?” Adresteia asked, “They dedicate songs, poetry, art to you, and it’s not enough? I didn’t take you for being vain.”

“Not vain – territorial. Everything on dry earth beyond the reaches of civilization is my domain, but civilization keeps growing. They cut down the trees and kill the animals, because they think they own them. They think they’re entitled to it as a right. They’ve forgotten that all of this…” the word echoed through the trees, “Is a privilege they enjoy at my discretion.”

“I remember a time when you believed the wilderness was there to provide for civilization, not to war with it. You were a goddess who served the betterment of man, not the savage reprisals of beasts.”

“We all change, don’t we Nemesis?”

“True; sometimes for the better, but not always. What changed you? What Apollo did to Orion?”

“You mean, what Apollo made me do to Orion!”

Even with her keen eyesight, Adresteia could not see Artemis in this environment – there was too much cover, too many obstructions. But, she realized, Artemis was the only thing nearby armed with anything metal. She could sense lightning just as well as she could manipulated it, and metal was always surrounded by a faint aura of it. It was too faint for humans to perceive, but if Adresteia focused, she could feel the electrons tumbling freely within the metal. She closed her eyes to concentrate, and it was none-to-soon. A bright flash of energy in her mind streaked at her back, leaving her less than half a heartbeat to dodge. The Olympian arrow grazed Adresteia’s shoulder. She was better prepared for the next two shots, and dodged them easily.

“That first one might have hit me if you’d aimed for my heart,” Adresteia spoke to the silent wilderness. She focused – she would be able to sense Artemis’s tiara and hunting knife if the goddess got close enough. “If you’re not going to kill me then just come out and talk to me, face-to-face.”

Adresteia caught ‘sight’ of the crown and the knife, and rushed towards them in the dark, intending to tackle Artemis. Instead, she found them hanging in the branches of a tree. Just as she realized she’d been fooled, she heard a snap and a creaking sound – a snare drew tight around her left ankle as a counterweight dropped from a nearby tree. It pulled Adresteia feet first into the air.

With a swipe of her talons she snapped the cord and dropped to the ground. The impact didn’t hurt her, but she landed face down, making her easy prey for Artemis. The huntress pounced on Adresteia’s back and pulled her wrist back to pin her.

“Orion’s death wasn’t your fault,” Adresteia said, “It might have been your arrow, your bow, your hands, but Apollo was the one who aimed you." She grunted as Artemis pushed her head into the dirt, "Your twin brother deceived you, betrayed you, and now... now you feel alone, don’t you? That’s why you’re like this.”

“Don’t try to analyze me!” Artemis pulled up on Adresteia’s wrist.

Adresteia winced, “I’m not! I’m trying to understand you! You said I'd changed, just as you had – well that’s the change in me. I’m not a mindless killing machine anymore. I care about who I’m fighting and why. And I care about you.”

“Lies!” Artemis gripped Adresteia’s throat as claws emerged from her finger tips, “Why should you care about me? You said it yourself – you were a mindless killing machine, a hunting dog. We weren’t friends!”

 “But I’m not now,” Adresteia said, “And I remember the woman you used to be.” Adresteia closed her eyes and focused on the writhing blue energy inside herself, building it up inside.

“What do you mean by that?! What do you mean, ‘woman’? I’m… I’m a goddess not a… not a woman.”

Adresteia released the energy inside herself as a brilliant, violent burst of as much lightning as she could summon, enough to incinerate a human being. Artemis’s body spasmed, and she flew off Adresteia’s back, trailing smoke. Though disoriented by the sound of her own thunder, Adresteia scrambled to her feet and rushed to Artemis to check for a heartbeat.

Before she could reach her, the huntress rolled back onto her feet and stood – shakily.

“I am a god; immortal, powerful beyond measure.”

Adresteia balled her hand into a tight fist, and swung as hard as she could straight at Artemis’s face. The impact wasn’t as loud as the thunder had been, but it was enough to shake the trees around them. Artemis staggered backwards, blood dripping from her lip.

“Does an immortal god bleed?” Adresteia asked, “Where’s that measureless power you’re on about?!”

Artemis roared, a feral, animal sound, and lunged at Adresteia, raking her with her claws. Adresteia slashed back at her with her own talons. Artemis tried to bite her opponent, but Adresteia dipped her head and then brought it up into Artemis’s chin, hard, snapping her head back and rattling her teeth.

Artemis stumbled and fell onto her backside again. She dug her fingers into the earth, and a mass of roots erupted from the soil, tangling around Adresteia and dragging her to her knees.

“How’s that for power?” Artemis said, “I am the spirit of the forest, the master of the hunt. I knew these trees when they were seeds, and before man took up the bow, I guided the claws and fangs of the beasts that came before him. I am forever… I was at the beginning, and I will be at the end.”

Brilliant yellow light bathed the clearing. The starry sky turned pale blue, the wispy grey clouds becoming white puffs. The birds chirped, and nocturnal insects and frogs fell silent. Apollo strode forth with a ball of yellow light in his hand. Once he was sure he had his sister’s attention, he rolled it over the back of his hand. It vanished from sight with an orange glow, and the night returned.

“You think you’re eternal? Ageless? I think mom would take issue with that.”

Artemis’s confidence faltered, “Mom?”

“You still remember mom, don’t you? The honey cakes before bed, the singing when we cleaned house? You remember our house on Delos, right? Playing with the goats and chasing that cat that would always get into scraps with the chickens?”

“Yes… of course I do.”

“Does an ageless power chase cats? Does she try to paint rainbows on her bedroom wall with mud? Fall asleep in her mother’s arms?”

“I’m a goddess… I’m a goddess… aren’t I…?”

“No sister, you aren’t,” Athena appeared behind Apollo, “We are avatars,” Athena explained, “vessels for powerful and terrible intellects older than any of us. These… primal beings, they have no form to themselves, so they possess the bodies of the most powerful mortals they can find and bend their thoughts, like an infectious, intelligent affliction of the mind.”

“But… we’re not mortals.”

“If you’d aimed a little more to the left when you shot me this evening,” Apollo pointed to the wound that was still mending, “You would’ve seen how mortal we truly are.”

“I don’t understand,” Artemis said.

“Because what dwells inside of you doesn’t want you to understand. You and your brother are among the youngest of us but, unlike Apollo, the being that inhabits your form is among the oldest of us. It’s had more hosts than even I know – Aeginaea, Alphaea, Agrotera, Aetole, to name a few – and it’s been worshipped for millennia, since before man invented agriculture or architecture. The life you remember, growing up with your twin brother, has had a span of no more than a few hundred years.”

“You’re saying… we’re human?”

“Not human,” Athena said, “We are born of peoples with special abilities. We were stronger, faster, and healthier than ordinary human beings. That’s why we were chosen as vessels. You two were taken as youths, your minds molded by their whims while you were still discovering who you were. I was a priestess in Athens, taken as an adult. For this reason, I have been able to… make an accord with the being that inhabits me, and maintain my sense of self.”

“And you two?”

“I’m not quite the same as the rest of you,” Adresteia answered, “I was bred to be what I am, created as a blank slate so that I would know nothing but the will of the thing they put inside of me.”

“What lives within me,” Apollo explained, “Is very young. Its will doesn’t have the strength to overrule me, but… I began to doubt my true nature when I murdered Orion.”

“You’re saying it made you do that?”

“No,” Apollo said sadly, “In fact, I think it tried to stop me. After the deed was done, I realized something was wrong because… what I did was not a godly thing to do. It was terrible, cruel, and for the pettiest of reasons. I was jealous of both of you – jealous of him for having so much of your time and attention, and jealous of you for having his love. Harming the two of you was… irrational. A very human failing. It raised questions, and my questions took me to Athena.”

“What of the others?” Artemis asked.

“Most have been almost completely overtaken by the entities that have claimed them, their memories and identities inextricable from one another,” Athena said, “Whether that is good or bad is an open question. It was Apollo’s mortal self that murdered Orion, but your immortal self that nearly perpetrated the dozens of murders tonight.”

“Anyone can be good or bad,” Apollo said, “But you have two people in one body, each with their own morality. Sometimes that means balance, other times… chaos.”

“Objectively it’s fascinating,” Athena digressed, “Hades's primal self was always cold and selfish, his mind bent only on acquiring power. His mortal half, though, is merciful and compassionate. Few besides Persephone know him well enough to see the duality within him, but it is there.”

“Zeus and Hera?” Artemis asked.

“Assholes inhabiting assholes,” Adresteia said.

“In essence,” Athena said, “Not literally, thankfully.”

Artemis thought about the absolute certainty she had felt before Apollo reminded them of their childhood, “Will I… forget this conversation?”

“I can teach you to commune with your other self,” Athena said, “She is ancient and powerful, but not cruel. Wild, but not unreasonable. More than anything, she seeks to defend the balance and harmony between nature and progress. Together, we can find a better way for you to do that.”

Adresteia took Apollo aside, “Should we bring up the guy she turned into a wolf?”

Apollo rubbed his bare chin, “Nah – most of Arty’s magic only works by moonlight. A curse that powerful? I’m sure he’ll change back once the full moon is gone from the sky. Ought to make sure he didn’t bite anyone, though.”

“Why?”

“ My sister and I know more than a little about plagues. Her curses can be… infectious.”

The Hunt (3/4)

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Part 2 of 4

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Odysseus and Achilles ran toward the next camp. Unlike Achilles and many of his fellow princes, Odysseus’s blood was only 1/8^th Olympian, but, fortunately, that 1/8^th came from Hermes. Odysseus was sure that without that slight edge, he’d be lagging far behind Achilles. Unfortunately, Hector, Paris, and Menelaus, were all five or six generations removed from their divine heritage. Odysseus looked back and could see Hector and Paris struggling to keep up, and Menelaus, of all things, trying to drag Apollo to safety.

The men at the next camp had very nearly driven back the wildlife. Diomedes and Teucer had thinned the larger animals with their bows, and Ajax had hefted a twelve-foot log and knocked away the smaller creatures with a few mighty sweeps, before throwing it down and rolling it over the rest like a baker flattening dough. Odysseus announced their approach as Ajax set the log across some rocks so the archers could take up position behind it.

“Ajax!” Odysseus cried, “We need your strength!”

“What in Hades is going on?!” Diomedes shouted.

“Artemis is hunting us for sport, and turned Lycomedes into a monster!”

“Who’s Lycomedes?!” Teucer shouted as they leapt over their cover.

“Hairy guy from Crete,” Achilles said, “He’s a lot hairier now.”

Hector and Paris caught up to them. “Also, an owl turned into a scary hot lady,” the boy added.

“What?” Teucer felt more confused than he assumed Ajax felt every day.

“Key points,” Odysseus said, “Apollo, wounded, we need Ajax to carry him away from his sister, and we need to deal with a man-wolf creature.”

Diomedes gasped, “It’s half man, half animal? Like the Minotaur? It’s a Minowolf?!”

“No. The Minotaur was named after its father, Minos,” Paris said matter-of-factly, “Lycomedes already has a name.”

“He’s a Lycawolf then!”

“Good god would you lot listen to yourselves?!” Odysseus shouted as he turned and ran back the way he’d come, “Menelaus needs us!”

Menelaus could see his friends coming back for him, but could also hear Lycomedes closing on him, the beast's deformed paws kicking up the sandy soil. Had Menelaus thought about it, he might have used Apollo's more resilient body as a shield, but in the heat of the moment, Menelaus could only think of the god as an injured soldier. As Lycomedes reached them, he dropped Apollo in front of himself, and hunkered over him with his heavy shield up. Lycomedes slammed into the shield and began clawing at it, trying to either pull it off of Menelaus’s arm or pull off Menelaus’s arm. Menelaus raised his shield slightly, and with a sweep of his leg tripped the beast, “Down boy.”

Unfortunately, Lycomedes didn’t stay down. He got back onto all fours and started trying to flank the man with sudden bursts of sideways motion.

The others closed in. Diomedes and Odysseus circled to the right with their bows, while Teucer, Paris, and Hector circled to the left. Ajax and Achilles charged into the middle of the fray. Ajax grabbed Apollo and dragged him clear. Achilles jumped on the creature’s back and tried to get a choke hold on it.

“He’s stronger than he looks,” Achilles grunted.

Menelaus tried to get an angle on the beast, but trying to bash it with his shield again was complicated by Achilles’s involvement. “Odysseus, I feel no shame in asking for advice,” Menelaus said when the creature grabbed his shield and started trying to tear it from his grasp again.

“We can shoot him,” Teucer said, “If the boy gets clear, I can put one between its eyes.”

“We can save him!” Achilles shouted back, hanging on tenaciously. None of their arrows could have hurt Achilles, but the boy was now determined to take Lycomedes alive.

Odysseus thought for a moment, “Does anyone have a sword?”

“I have a hunting axe with me,” Hector retrieved it from the back of his belt and held it ready.

Odysseus ran over to Hector, skirting the creature's reach, and held up his bow, “Chop it dead center - don’t cut the string.”

Hector split the bow cleanly in two. Odysseus gripped one half of the bow and swung the other half – still connected by the cord – at Lycomedes’s lower arm. The wood spun around the creature’s wrist, wrapping the string around it. Odysseus grabbed the other bow half and pulled both ends tight while twisting the cord over on itself.

“You’ve snared him!” Teucer praised Odysseus, “Now what?”

Odysseus was a strong man for his size, but the creature nearly pulled him off his feet. Odysseus dug his heals in. “Teucer, snare the other arm! Use a belt or something! Ajax, you’re on Teucer’s side, Hector and Diomedes, you’re on mine.” 

Teucer nearly got bitten, but he managed to loop the strap from his quiver around the creature’s right wrist, and hold it long enough for Ajax to lumber in and take hold of it too. The five men pulled in two directions, overpowering the wolf creature and stretching its arms wide. It struggled fiercely.

“I think we’re likely to tire before he does!” Diomedes expressed his concern.

“We need something to lash him to,” Odysseus grunted, “We can tie his arms back and let him struggle against himself.”

“There’s a tree twelve paces behind Ajax!” Paris shouted over the monster’s angry howling.

“As one!” Hector said, “Go!” Keeping the restraints taught, the men dragged the beast back towards the tree. Achilles released his hold on the beast, rolled under its drawn out arm, and joined Menelaus who had his shield and spear up again, ready to go if the others lost their grip. Once the men had Lycomedes’s back pressed to the tree, they circled towards one another, dislocating the beasts shoulders and drawing its forearms together. Ajax grabbed its wrists and held the creature still while Odyssey effected a more reliable restraint.

Even with both shoulders dislocated, Lycomedes struggled against the bindings. For good measure, Achilles took off his belt and tied it around the beast’s jaws. The young men stepped back from their handy work, breathing hard.

Apollo staggered over, finally walking under his own power again, “That was some fine teamwork gentlemen.”

Menelaus laughed, “Sure, but now how do we get this tree back to Thessaly?”

Part 4 of 4

The Hunt (2/4)

Part 1 of 4

Part 2 of 4

After many hours of hiking they reached the lake. Fortunately, the fish hadn’t fled their approach the way the rest of the wildlife seemed to have. Achilles took Menelaus’s spear, jumped in the lake, and came back with enough for their little group. Menelaus set about lighting the campfire Odysseus built, but Apollo stopped him, “I’ve got this.”

Apollo held a hand up in the direction of the setting sun, and a ball of brilliant yellow light coalesced in his hand. He casually tossed the ball into the kindling, and the fire roared to life.

“What can’t you do?” Paris asked.

“Plenty,” Apollo laughed.

“Seriously,” Odysseus said, “What’s it like being a god?”

“Odd question coming from you, Odysseus – I think you know Athena better than I do.”

“I want to know your take on it though,” Odysseus said.

Apollo nodded, “It’s lonely. Sometimes it’s fun. Back in the day we used to do this all the time. Rub elbows with mortals, even court them. But at the end of the day we’re not mortals, and people always feel compelled to worship us.”

“You don’t like that?” Hector asked, recalling the elaborate temple to Apollo outside Troy.

“Our father felt it was our duty to be custodians of your civilization, to take on the burden of responsibility of keeping humanity from destroying itself. Creating a religion was an expedient means to an end. But there should be a covenant between a man and his god. The man should be devout and abide by his better’s wisdom, but the god should repay that devotion with protection and compassion. Sometimes I feel it’s far more difficult for me to uphold my end of that bargain than it is for men to uphold theirs. The world is complicated and mortals – human or otherwise – are fragile in many ways. No offense.”

“None taken,” Hector skewered one of Achilles’ fish and laid it across the fire.

Odysseus wanted to continue questioning Apollo, but Lycomedes changed the subject, “What do you think we’re hunting tonight? It’s almost dark, and I haven’t seen any beasts of note all day. “

“Beasts of note?” Menelaus said, “I haven’t seen any beasts at all.”

“Aside from my sister’s owl,” Apollo said pointing to Adresteia’s silhouette in the darkness of the tree overhanging their campfire.

“Whoa!” Paris said, “How long’s he been there?!”

“She,” Apollo said, “And she’s been following us all day.” Apollo gave Odysseus a knowing look, “Apparently she wants to keep an eye on this contest.”

 “I’ve heard foxes would be a good challenge,” Odysseus moved the topic away from Adresteia, “Especially since we didn’t bring any hunting dogs.”

“Perhaps we should be hunting you,” Lycomedes laughed, “they say you are slyer than any fox.”

Apollo laughed, “That would be an idea. It’s been many years since I hunted men.”

The others grew quiet. Despite their previous conversation, and his exceptional stature, it was easy to forget that Apollo wasn’t human.

“Who did you hunt?” Achilles asked, nonplused by the statement.

“Seven princes of Thebes,” Apollo explained, “and Arty hunted their seven sisters. Not the same Thebes Hector’s betrothed is from.”

“What did they do?” Paris asked.

“Them? Nothing. But the queen of Thebes, their mother, made some inappropriate remarks to our mother, Leto. You may be too young to have noticed, but women in this world have their value chiefly judged by the number of children they sire. Mom only had the two of us. She was barren before Zeus conceived us, and became barren once again after we were born. Queen Niobe, however, had fourteen children – a fact she was quite proud of. That in itself would have been fine, I suppose, but – for reasons I still do not understand – she decided to not only brag about her children, but to spend an entire evening disparaging our mother for her inability to have more than two. Mom tried to argue that quality was more important than quantity, but Niobe tore into her for being a terrible mother. She said Arty was too manly and I was too womanly, and if our father was really Zeus, then the only reason we must be ‘failing our genders’ so severely was because our mother had failed to raise us properly. How well would that sit with any of your parents?”

Everyone shook their heads; Queen Niobe had done two of the worst things possible in their culture – disrespected the gods, and disrespected someone’s mama.

“So, Mom asked Arty and I to make Niobe suffer for her insults and visit divine retribution on the woman’s family by killing all of her children. It seemed harsh, but… our mom had a pretty rough life. Her parents being titans, she was pretty much on the outside of everything, looking in, and then she got saddled with two rambunctious Olympian children who made her life hell for the better part of two decades. So, what were we going to do, right?”

“Do you regret it?” Odysseus asked bluntly.

Apollo picked up a stick and poked the fire to reinvigorate it. Niobe and Leto were both long dead now, so there didn’t seem to be any harm in telling the truth, “Mom just wanted to make Niobe suffer, so Arty and I agreed that we didn’t need to kill the kids, just make their mother think they were dead. We even figured, ‘hey, after she’s groveled for forgiveness we can be the wise and beneficent gods who restored her children to life and made everyone happy.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Odysseus said.

“Right? So I concocted a poison, a sedative that would place someone in such a deep sleep that they would appear dead. I coated our arrows with the poison, and we set off on our hunt. Arty and I are good shots, obviously, so it wasn’t too hard to stick an arrow into something non-vital. I’ve never shot so many ass cheeks as I did that day. We used field points on our arrows rather than our usual broadheads or bodkins, and because of the metabolic suppressant in the poison, I knew there would be very little bleeding to worry about. Just a sting in tuchus and they'd be dead to the world until I gave them the antidote.”

“Very clever,” Odysseus genuinely admired the reasoning and execution of the deception.

“Too clever,” Apollo frowned, “Niobe was pregnant with her fifteenth child, and feared that we’d come for it next. She decided that she needed to entreat Zeus to stop us, and their local wise-woman told her that the best way to get our father's attention was to burn the bodies of her ‘slain’ children on a large pyre. Arty and I managed to intervene in time to spirit away a few of the daughters, but we couldn’t save everyone.”

“You couldn’t have expected her to do that,” Lycomedes said, “I mean, who does that? Only savages burn their dead.”

“Cremation has a lot of advantages, actually,” Apollo said, “Practical and hygienic. But ‘savage’ or not, it wouldn’t have happened if I had stuck around to see the whole thing play out, rather than flying back to Olympus to brag about our cleverness.”

“What about your sister?” Achilles asked, “Was she as upset as you?”

“Arty is… difficult to understand. To her, animals and human beings are all the same. Neither is better than the other.”

“Does she have that high of an estimation of animals or that low of an estimation of men?” Odysseus asked.

“It meets in the middle with her. She speaks to animals, understands them, but she doesn’t get sentimental about them the way Ares does. She has this whole, survival-of-the-fittest circle-of-life philosophy about it all. So to her, the fact that humans hunt and kill animals… it pretty much means you’re all fair game too. Pun not intended. She felt about as bad about killing those women as you’d feel about slaughtering cattle.”

They all sat quietly for a moment, thinking about the gravity of what they’d just heard. Apollo had regrets, which was not at all god-like. Odysseus had been working with Athena enough that he wasn’t too surprised, but thinking over Apollo’s last words on the matter brought back Odysseus’s feeling that something was wrong about this excursion.

Artemis’s voice came from the woods that ran very nearly up to the edge of the lake – it seemed to come from all around them, emanating from no particular place, as if the forest itself were speaking, “Don’t feel too badly for my brother, boys. The mishap with Leto’s children was far from the worst thing he’s ever done.”

Odysseus and the other mortals, startled by her voice, jumped up and put their backs to the fire. Menelaus reached for his spear, but Lycomedes chided him, “What are you doing? She’s a goddess, show some reverence.”

“Lycomedes, right?” Artemis’s voice echoed in the forest with an unnerving giggle, “It’s good that you know your place. It makes you useful.”

Apollo stood up, “Arty, come on, you know I’m sorry about Orion. I’ve regretted what I did from the moment he died.”

“Not much solace for him,” the forest answered.

“No, no it’s not,” Apollo nodded, “but terrorizing our friends won’t bring him back, and it isn’t justice. If you want to have it out with me, Arty, say your peace to my face, and tell me what I can do to…”

“To make it up to me?” Artemis said “I think we’re a bit past that point.” At that, Apollo reached for his weapons, only to find that his personally-crafted arrows were missing – going by the tracks in the earth, the hunters had been sufficiently distracted that a number of squirrels had carried them off into the brush, one at a time.

Laughter echoed through the forest all along the edge of the lake. Further down the shore, Odysseus could see the men at the other camps standing and searching for the source. Apollo stood and grabbed a branch from the fire, wishing he had his brother Hephaestus’s talent manipulating the element.

“This isn’t all about you though, dear brother,” the voice hissed, then rose so that the other camps could here it, “I brought you all here for a hunt, and the time has come.” The men at the other camps cheered, but then she continued, “Just remember, you all said you were game.” Her emphasis on the last word echoed Apollo’s earlier pun.

With no further warning, the forest disgorged an army of beasts of every size. Flies swarmed, birds pecked, squirrels bit, deer charged and kicked, and a small number of bears threw themselves at the panicked men like living siege weapons. A large, black bear came at Paris, it’s eyes glowing in the light of the camp fire, but Apollo threw himself in its path and struck it across the snout with his burning branch. The bear reared up, and staggered Apollo with the swat of one of its massive paws. It swung with its other paw, but Apollo grabbed the creature’s forefoot and twisted it with his superhuman strength – Apollo wasn’t Heracles, but he wasn’t human either. The thick bones in the animal’s foreleg snapped under torsion, and the bear roared in pain. Apollo gouged it in the throat, kicked it between the legs, and threw it into the lake. The god turned to check on the frightened boy, but there was a whistle and a thunk as an arrow struck him in the back and sank deep into his flesh.

Apollo screamed and dropped to his hands and knees next to the fire.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Paris panicked, “What should I do?!”

“Pull the arrow out,” Odysseus said as he dropped a charging elk with a shot to the head.

“Won’t that make him bleed worse?” Paris asked.

Apollo grunted with pain and tried to reach the arrow himself – limber as he was he couldn’t get a grip on it. Hector, Menelaus, Lycomedes, and Achilles were struggling to hold back the avalanche of fur and feathers. Menelaus jumped back as a number of snakes slithered aggressively toward him. Odysseus kicked away a swarm of suddenly carnivorous rabbits, as Adresteia intercepted a hawk diving towards his head. 

“He’s a god, he’ll heal quickly once the arrow is out,” Odysseus said. Paris hesitated a moment more and then grabbed the arrow shaft. Apollo screamed from the pain of it moving.

“That crazy bitch!” he cursed, “She shot me! She actually SHOT ME!”

“I can’t pull it out,” Paris said, “it’s stuck!”

“It must be one of mine,” Apollo groaned, “they’re broad-heads with the punch of bodkins.”

“Well, I guess you can be proud they work well,” Hector said, “How do you get them out?”

“How close is it to his heart, Paris?” Menelaus asked.

“It’s just below his shoulder blade,” Paris said, “well above his heart.”

Menelaus made a frustrated sound like someone who knew he had to do something he really didn’t want to do. He skewered a boar with his spear, and then spun around, bringing his big heavy shield down on the sturdy shaft of the Olympian arrow like a hammer falling on a nail. Apollo screamed, but the arrowhead punched through his collarbone and erupted from his chest.

“Oh shit!” Achilles shouted, “That was awesome!”

Paris pulled the feathers off of the back end of the arrow before grabbing the front end and yanking it fully out. “Hope I’m never on Menelaus’s bad side,” the boy said, “That was brutal!”

Apollo clapped a hand over the bloody, ragged wound. He wouldn’t bleed out, but even half Olympian blood like his was a hazardous material to say the least. He didn’t want Paris going blind or the Earth giving birth to some horrible monster.

“Sound off lord!” Hector shouted.

“I’m good,” Apollo lied. It’d been at least two hundred years since he’d been injured – the pain was something of a shock, “I just need a few minutes to heal. Use the fire.”

Odysseus retreated to the other side of the campfire and began jabbing his arrows into the burning kindling before firing them into the brush. The forest wasn’t dry, per se, but it hadn’t rained recently – little fires began to spread everywhere he aimed, turning back the animals that had been rushing in to reinforce the initial wave. Hector and Lycomedes grabbed branches from the fire and brandished them, driving back the beasts assaulting their little camp.

A long howl, echoed from the forest, and the animals attacking their camp retreated to join the assault on the other camps. All but the mosquitoes – the tenacious bugs were everywhere.

“She’s giving us respite,” Menelaus said.

“No,” Apollo tried to pull himself up, “Escalation.”

A thick, clinging fog rolled off of the lake and surrounded them, and then Artemis’s silhouette appeared in the moonlight. Her attire had changed – she’d shredded her green dress to tatters, tying leaves and grass into it, and smeared dark mud across her fair skin. The crescent moon on her tiara was tilted, giving her the appearance of sharp horns. She clutched her bow in her hand.

For once, Odysseus didn’t stop to think; didn’t think about whether it was blasphemous or even sensible, he turned and fired at the moon goddess on reflex. Moving with inhuman speed and fluidity, Artemis caught Odysseus’s arrow, nocked it in her own bow, and fired it back at him. Adresteia, swooped in to intercept it just as she had the hawk, but it punctured one of her wings, knocking her out of the air.

Despite his earlier reverence, Lycomedes grabbed the broken arrow Paris had pulled from Apollo and lunged at Artemis, hoping the special metal would work on her as well as it had her brother. She grabbed his wrist with one hand and lifted him off the ground, squeezing has arm until he released his grip on the improvised weapon.

She quirked her head, “Eye to eye with the apex predator and you chose fight over flight? Yes, I think I will keep you.”

Artemis released the man, but then grabbed him by the chest, her thin fingers digging into his sternum, “Let go of your soft, pink face, man’s true nature embrace: hungry and loyal, vicious and noble. Your human self forget, by the light of the moon you shall forever be my pet.” Lycomedes screamed as his bones began snapping and shifting. His flesh swelled and split, thick hair erupting from underneath. As Artemis released him, his scream trailed off into a chilling howl.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Odysseus aimed his bow at the wolf-like creature that had replaced the Cretan prince.

“You can’t shoot him!” Menelaus said.

“Seriously?!” Odysseus felt Menelaus’s sense of fraternity was outstripping his common sense.

“He’s one of us – he came out here with us, he goes home with us!”

“No man left behind!” Hector agreed, but moved to cover his little brother.

“Hey, Lycomedes,” Odysseus said, “You still in there somewhere?”

The creature snarled.

“I’m thinking he’s not going to go along with your plan eagerly,” Odysseus said.

Adresteia staggered to her feet, her injury having forced her to shift to her anthropomorphic form.

“The man is a wolf and the owl is a woman!” Paris observed. 

“Ah, the wonders of the natural world,” Achilles added sarcastically.

Artemis was clearly surprised to see Adresteia, “Nem? Where have you been? You were the next best hunter on Olympus! I’ve missed you!”

Adresteia reached back to the wing that had been skewered, snapped the arrowhead off and pulled the shaft out. It’d be a while before she could fly again, so she drew her wings into her back. She flexed her fingers as she extended her talons, electricity arcing between them.

“Nem?” Artemis seemed confused, “Are you mad Nem? We’re just playing; it’s sport.”

“Artemis,” Adresteia said, “I always liked you – as much as I was capable of liking anyone – but you’re acting… you’re insane."

Artemis scoffed, “Well that’s hardly fair coming from a goddess that throws herself in front of danger to save a mortal.”

“You shot your brother in the back.”

“Better than he deserves,” Artemis said.

“And what you’ve… done to that poor man?” Adresteia gestured at the snarling monstrosity the goddess had created.

“What I’ve done is change him from a poor man into a magnificent creature,” Artemis scratched him behind the ears, “And he’s so cuddly now too.”

Adresteia realized that she and Artemis lacked the common sense of basic values necessary to have a rational conversation. “She’s out of your league,” she said to Odysseus, “Go.”

Odysseus hesitated for a moment, then turned and ran towards the next nearest campfire, still besieged by Artemis’s woodland army. He grabbed Achilles by the collar of his tunic as he moved, shouting for the others to follow.

As much as Hector wanted to stand and fight, he had Paris to consider. He grabbed the boy by the arm and ran after Odysseus. Lycomedes charged after them, but Menelaus interceded, striking the side of the creature’s head with his shield before slamming the butt of his spear between its shoulders. Lycomedes sagged to the ground. Menelaus hiked his shield up his arm so that he could take his spear in his off-hand, and hauled Apollo onto his knees. The Olympian was too tall for Menelaus to prop him onto his feet, so the adopted Spartan simply threw his weight forward and dragged the god as best he could.

Artemis drew her bow and fired after him, but as fast as her arrows were, Adresteia’s lightning was faster. She released a brilliant blue-white flash from her hand, and with a crack of thunder the goddess’s arrow fell to the ground in smoldering splinters.

Artemis tilted her head as if she thought that were entertaining, and whistled, “Lyco. Fetch your friends for me; Nem and I have some catching up to do.”

Part 3 of 4

The Hunt (1/4)

As of Wednesday, my dissertation is receiving (what I hope will be) final review by my committee, which means I've been able to take a break the past couple of days. Naturally, the first thing I wanted to do was write. About a year ago, I made a bargain with myself that I wouldn't write any more fiction until my dissertation was thoroughly and totally done. I haven't stuck to that deal 100%, but its been harder to maintain than a diet.

A long time ago I decided I wanted to write a novel about the Greek goddess, Nemesis, that would eventually tie into the book I wrote about Anne Bonny. That idea has changed and evolved a lot since I first got into it. Originally it was going to take place in the present day, but then I decided it was better to go back to her early days - about 1200 BC. Then I had an idea that Nemesis should be an artificial lifeform created on Olympus by extremely advanced science (like the replicants in Bladerunner), but I've rolled that back to be a bit more ambiguous. And originally Nemesis was going to be the sole focus of the book, but I've since decided to have the book split between her and Odysseus, the two of them working together in Athena's service.

The following 'chunk' of writing takes place at Peleus and Thetis's wedding anniversary celebration in Thessaly. For the first time in hundreds of years, the gods (well, Zeus) have decided that they should actually show up for a royal soiree in person, basically coopting the occasion to entertain themselves. Because Ancient Greece's ultimate movers-and-shakers have RSVPed, people from throughout Greece and beyond drop what they are doing to attend. With all of the royal families showing up in one place at one time, it also becomes an opportunity to negotiate treaties, trade deals, and marriages. Perhaps the most important event of the century, Athena intends to use the situation to further her own mysterious agenda. 

But while Athena is moving her pieces around the board, those pieces are having their lives turned upside down by the involvement of the gods. One of the eligible bachelorettes in attendance is Helen of Sparta (Nemesis's biological daughter, though Nemesis doesn't know that), a charismatic and beautiful woman who potentially provides a path to the Spartan throne. Helen is interested primarily in her adopted brother Menelaus, and finds the attention of the other 30+ single men more than a bit undesirable. Unfortunately, they have money to throw at her father, and Menelaus doesn't.

Aphrodite, having a grudge against Helen's father and an incessant need to be the alpha female at any occasion, takes offense at the suitors' attention to Helen and decides to create some chaos. The goddess of 'love' sets up a contest, so that the suitors can prove their worth, so that Helen won't simply be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Unfortunately, this effectively objectifies Helen as a prize to be handed out at the end, which is really no improvement over being sold. To make matters even worse, Aphrodite pressures Ares and Apollo to participate in the contest, making everything messier. 

Misadventures ensue as Athena furthers her own agenda, Ares and Apollo deliberately try to lose to their mortal competitors, Menelaus tries to win Helen, Odysseus tries to win Helen's cousin, Penelope (by competing for Helen), and Paris and Achilles get up to shenanigans like the young adolescent boys that they are. And with all that comes more than a little foreshadowing for anyone who's read the Iliad. 

Part 1 of 4

The time for Aphrodite’s final challenge had arrived. The intention had been to add up all of the suitors’ scores at the end of the five challenges to determine the final winner, and the man who would be Princess Helen’s husband (and potentially King of Sparta), but going into the final challenge – a hunt organized by the goddess, Artemis – there were only a handful of real contenders. Most of the men had stayed in the game only because it was expected of them, or because they were having fun. Ironically, few of the real contenders were serious about winning.

The most determined of the lot was the Mycenaen prince, Menelaus. He and his brother, Agamemnon, had grown up in exile in Sparta, raised by Helen’s parents. He and Helen seemed to share a genuine connection – Menelaus was the only man Helen called a friend – but having nothing to his name except his name itself, no one had taken him seriously as a contender for Helen’s hand before the contest. Once Helen’s courtship became a sporting event, rather than an auction, Menelaus had seized the opportunity to compete on a level playing field, and had fought aggressively to win.

The brothers from Salamis, Ajax and Teucer, had each performed well enough in their own way to stay in the competition. Teucer’s marksmanship was second only to Apollo himself, and Ajax’s only challenger on the wrestling mat had been Ares. Diomedes of Argos, highly skilled at nearly everything, had not won any of the trials but like Menelaus he had placed highly enough that his final score might give him the overall win.

Odysseus had done well enough to stay in the competition, but he had never intended to win. His interest was in his longtime friend, Penelope, Helen’s cousin. Odysseus’s mentor, Athena, had convinced him that – as future King of Ithaca – he needed to make a showing to earn the friendship and respect of the other future rulers of Greece. She guaranteed the opportunity would ultimately lead to gaining Penelope’s hand in marriage, and had given Odysseus a challenge – to ensure that Menelaus won Helen’s hand.

Achilles – son of the event's hosts - and Paris of Troy, younger than any of the suitors by several years, had only joined the competition as a joke. Paris was starry-eyed and stammering whenever he was around Helen, and his pining had made him the target of the other suitors’ mockery. Achilles had become fast friends with Paris in the past few weeks, though, and decided to join the event to humiliate the older, but still less capable men, who had insulted his friend.  Paris had then decided to participate as well, hopeful he’d have a shot at Helen. Achilles had excelled at everything, despite Menelaus’s brother, Agamemnon, sabotaging him at every turn. Paris had – through a combination of luck and help – managed to stay in the race.

The Olympian princes, Apollo and Ares, had been cajoled into competing by Aphrodite, but neither of the gods was interested in being King of Sparta. Odysseus had the distinct impression Helen was not Apollo’s preferred ‘type’; the god had managed to creatively sabotage himself with most of the challenges, even managing to disqualify himself on the archery challenge. Apollo stuck with the competition, but it seemed mostly to be because he was enjoying his time mingling with the mortals.

Ares had also underperformed in unexpected ways, but had not appeared to do so deliberately. Of all the gods Odysseus had met, the god of war had differed the most from Odysseus’s expectations. Going into this, the final challenge, Ares had dropped out of the race despite Aphrodite’s objections; while a savage butcher on the battlefield, Ares seemed to revile hunting as a hobby, saying there was "a difference between warfare and murder." Artemis had tried to convince him this hunt would be different, lamenting that they had never really bonded as siblings, but Ares had gone off to play with Peleus’s dogs.

All of the gods were so different from one another that Odysseus found it hard to believe they were family. Even the twins, Artemis and Apollo, were (appropriately) as different as night and day. Apollo was dark skinned with golden hair, clean cut and fashionable. Artemis was fair-skinned with raven-black hair, dressed simply and sloppily. Had her Olympian heritage not been obvious from her physical stature and intimidating aura, their hosts would likely have turned her away as a vagrant. Apollo was surprisingly affable; despite his status and power, he’d been happy to play his lyre for the mortals and discuss any number of topics with Odysseus, who had been absorbing everything Apollo said like a sponge. By comparison, Artemis seemed socially awkward and distant. To the humans she was cold as moonlight, and to her brother she was openly antagonistic. Odysseus had inferred, from something Athena said, that Apollo had deeply hurt his twin sister at some point, and the wounds had never truly healed. Odysseus even suspected that Apollo’s participation in Artemis’s great hunt might have been an attempt to mend their broken relationship.

Artemis now stood before the suitors with Aphrodite and Helen, ready to begin her hunt. Odysseus knew Artemis had never been close to Aphrodite - the virgin huntress was apparently demisexual, a concept Aphrodite held in contempt - but the whole competition had been Aphrodite’s idea, so Artemis had endured Aphrodite's left handed complements and put downs with grace. Helen looked as eager for it all to be over as she had the first day they had all arrived in Thessaly. The Spartan princess had never been comfortable with the attention she received, and her life had been made infinitely worse by Aphrodite’s decision to involve herself in it.

Artemis held up one fist to silence the chatter of the crowd and spoke, “This is the final trial to win Helen’s hand. I have prepared the greatest hunt in five generations. We will travel into the forest to the east and make camp.  We will hunt by the light of the full moon, without horses, dogs, or servants. You will have only your bow, your spear, and your wits to pit against the unforgiving wilderness tonight. Are you men game?”

The suitors nodded and chattered excitedly.

“I said, are you game?!”

“We’re game!” Diomedes shouted, “Let’s do this! Yeah!” The other men cheered.

Odysseus found himself bewildered by his fellows’ heedless enthusiasm. He finally shouted, “What’s the prey to be?”

Artemis beamed, “That, young prince, is a surprise. You’ll learn tonight, when the moon lights the sky.”

Artemis led the way into the forest, but moved so quickly and quietly she disappeared, leaving it to the local boy, Achilles, to guide everyone to their destination – a clearing around a lake that set at the foot of a waterfall. He said it was a beautiful destination, but he’d never encountered any big game like bears or lions there. This excited Diomedes, who was certain they’d be pitted against some exotic creature Artemis had used her connections to bring to Thessaly. He sincerely hoped they’d be hunting some terrible hybrid of beast and man like the infamous Minotaur that supposedly dwelled in Crete, or perhaps some descendant of the chimaera that Bellerophon was said to have slain. 

By midday, Odysseus had decided he was officially unnerved by the forest. Aside from him, only Achilles had noticed that it seemed devoid of animal life, as if everything that lived in the forest had fled before them. Even the flies and mosquitoes that would ordinarily have antagonized them were curiously absent. The only creature Odysseus caught sight of all morning was Athena’s right hand, Adresteia. These days, the shape shifter spent much of her time in the form of great horned owl – few besides Athena knew her true identity – and now she followed the band of suitors silently, gliding between the tree branches. Odysseus couldn’t guess whether he should be comforted by her presence. Adresteia had saved his life more than once, but it was unlikely she’d be following along if Athena hadn’t felt it necessary, which was worrisome. He knew Athena was (for some reason) invested in the outcome of the trials,  so it was likely that Adresteia was just there to observe, but Odysseus didn’t trust Artemis, even though Athena seemed to speak more fondly of her than she did most of her kin.

Reasoning that his job was first, to stay alive, and second, to make sure that Menelaus stayed alive, Odysseus steered the Mycenaen into the company of Apollo and Achilles. The group had scattered over the course of the trek, as men stopped to chat or relieve themselves. At the front of the procession it was the four of them, a Cretan man named Lycomedes, Paris (who wanted to continue hanging out with Achilles), and Paris’s older brother Hector, who wasn’t competing but had been ordered to go by his mother, so that he might look after Paris.

Hector was… interesting to Odysseus. Unlike Odysseus, Ajax, or Achilles, Hector had no known kin among the gods of Greece, Troy, or anywhere else. He had none of the exceptional abilities or talents that would come with such a lineage (Odysseus’s quick wit was often credited to his great grandfather, Hermes), but the Trojan prince still seemed smarter, faster, stronger, and tougher than any mortal man Odysseus had met. Stoic and humble, Hector was the sort of man Odysseus could imagine following into battle, and it seemed regrettable he’d not been born in Greece. As interesting as he was to Odysseus, he seemed far more interesting to Apollo.

“So, if you’re not competing for Princess Helen’s hand,” Apollo said as he walked next to Hector, “I assume you have someone already…?”

Hector nodded, “I’m betrothed to Princess Andromache of Thebes.”

“Betrothed?” Apollo said, “An arranged marriage then. I hope you’ve met her at least.”

Hector laughed, “I’ve met her, and the marriage was arranged on our request. She’s a good woman; even tempered, intelligent, and principled.”

“She sounds lovely,” Apollo said, “How’s the sex?”

Odysseus was walking behind Hector, but could still see him blush bright red.

“We’re only betrothed,” Hector said, “We haven’t married yet.” 

“Oh, I see. Well I’m sure Priam and Thetis’s soiree must have come as a relief to you – an opportunity to travel abroad and mix with the other singles before entering a life of devout monogamy.”

“Well, we’re already monogamous…” Hector said.

“I thought you said you were only betrothed?” Apollo countered, “And not having sex with the woman. How can you be monogamous with someone you aren’t having sex with?”

Hector clearly seemed bewildered; Paris snickered like the juvenile that he was.

“My choice to not have relations with other women is a show of good faith to my future wife,” Hector defended the integrity of their relationship. 

“Just women?” Apollo said, “That still leaves the field quite open, doesn’t it?”

“Pardon?” Hector asked.

Menelaus had been largely quiet so far, hauling along his large bronze shield and spear as if he were going to war. He finally spoke up, “Apollo’s right. Spartans do it all the time. Castor and Pollux had to move into the barracks at age seven. Since then, they’ve had scarcely any time with women that wasn’t supervised. If they didn’t satisfy their needs with the men there, they’d be walking into their future marriages completely clueless.”

“I wouldn’t think relations with a man would prepare you for marriage to a woman,” Lycomedes broke his own silence.

Apollo shrugged, “Most of the skills are transferable.”

Odysseus decided to change the topic, to spare Hector further discomfort, “You and Agamemnon weren’t sent to the barracks?” he asked Menelaus.

“No,” Menelaus clearly seemed unhappy with the situation, “I suppose I should be grateful, everyone says life in the barracks is miserable, but…”

“You don’t like being excluded?” Hector said.

“Aggie and I lost everything when Aegisthus deposed our father. Tyndareus generously took us in, and in many ways treats us like his own sons - but we’re not. And living in the palace with the girls while the other boys trained to fight has been a constant reminder that we are not Spartans.”

“Well, you’re clearly no slouch,” Hector said.

“Tyndareus trained me, personally,” Menelaus said, “And I don’t want to be thought of as some parasite on Helen’s family, so I’ve tried to make him proud.”

Apollo laughed, “Between you and Hector, what am I supposed to do in the company of such noble men? If Odysseus weren’t here I’d feel shamed by your goodness.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Odysseus asked, “I’d like to think I’m a good man.”

“A great man, someday,” Apollo said, “but a good man? I think that will have to be judged on a day-by-day basis.”

The other men laughed. “I’ve only known you for a few weeks,” Lycomedes said, “and even I know that’s true.”

Apollo slapped a hand on Odysseus’s shoulder. It was a gesture that felt awkward with the god being two heads taller than the especially short man, but Apollo said, “Don’t mistake my observation for disapproval. You’re impious and pragmatic. The world needs people like you as much as it needs devoted sons, like Menelaus, and devoted husbands like Hector. Well, eventually devoted husband, right now Hector’s just a big slice of delicious cake reserved for one lucky woman.”

“Hopefully he doesn’t dry out before the wedding night,” Achilles said.

“Eh, I’ve seen Andromache,” Paris said, “Hector’ll be fine so long as he doesn’t overdo the wine.”

Hector shook his head, “You’re killing me kids, you’re killing me.”

Part 2 of 4