“We are gathered here today…”
There he is, the Priest, the leader of the Olympian Order, the man that will free us from the tyrant Zeus. Some say he is the lost son of Zeus himself and like Zeus, turned on his father. Others say he was the son of Cronus, the father of Zeus, and when he and his other brothers defeated the Titans they were all suppose to get an equal share of the universe. But the three brothers Zeus, Poseidon and Hades wanted the universe split between the three of them. So they plotted against there brother and threw him in Tartarus, the deepest level of the underworld, with their father Cronus. He escaped some how and now leads the battle against the Gods.
“And so I ask you men, will you fight with me!!!” There was a large roar from mass of men present, “I said will you fight with me!!!” Again the crowd erupted with all present lifting their swords of pure light above there heads so to blind the eyes of anyone that would dare to gaze on them. “Will you die with me!!!?” The heroic Priest shouted at the top of his lungs as he lifted the sacred sword of the Titans high above his head, he is a tall, well built man whose armour was a perfect fit, obviously made exactly for this god like man, his face was shaded in unnatural fog that was held there by his cloak.
Another man approached the front of the stage, he looked down at the men and drew all his strength, “You know me, I am Prometheus, I tried to give the gift of fire back to the people who depended on it, and how did Zeus repay me for trying to protect his chosen race? He chained me to a rock and let an eagle rip my liver out day after day.” There was silence amongst the crowd as the watched in total awe, Prometheus shook off the pain of those memories. “Now is the time to take the power of the Gods and to use it to heal our sick, keep our homes safe and keep our life's peaceful.” The crowd erupted at the thought of a better life and were now ready to follow the two men to the grave.
“Men, tonight we rest on the foothill of Mount Olympus, but tomorrow, we shall rest in the beds of the conquered Gods, sip from the Challis of the Gods, a crap in the toilet of the Gods,” the men all laughed together with the words of the mysterious Priest, although very little was known about him, he seemed to command great respect and along with Prometheus they could command any vast number of men.
The men all retreated to their tents to get to sleep for the long and gruelling task that lay before them. Prometheus and the Priest sat talking in their tent while the men dreamed of the promises they had made.
“We command 50, 000 lightning warriors and 25, 000 chariots of the Styx’s. The army of Tartarus will be here tomorrow under the command of Castor and Pollux. They are bringing about 5000 Trojan revivals and they will arrive under the cover of the helmet of Hades giving them invisibility,” said a rather saddened Prometheus.
“So we have 80, 000 men against an army of 150, 000 men plus the combined strength of three Gods Zeus, Poseidon and Hades all armed with Oblivion Swords.” Said a very different Priest, he had lost the enthusiasm which he displayed to his men. “We have armed all our men with Lightning Swords, which means we can defeat the armies of Olympus, but no doubt Zeus is expecting we would bring warriors from Tartarus and will have some sort of weapon to combat the undead.” Said the Priest in a deep and distraught voice.
“But no weapon has ever been recorded…”
The Priest cut him short “The Gods don’t give us all their knowledge, they know how to bring back people from the dead and cure the worst of the diseases but they do not share them with us humans!” The Priest said this with some anger in his voice; he seemed to be directing it towards Prometheus for suggesting the Gods were fair. There was a gathering of voices outside the tent, with some of the guards telling a man to leave.
“No I must see Prometheus and the Priest, I am sent from Tartarus on orders from Castor and Pollux to speak only to them.” The man then barged in past the guards, “I’m sorry my lords, but Generals Castor and Pollux told me to deliver this scroll quickly.” Said the small, skinny messenger as he drew his breaths heavily.
“What is it then, quickly before I have you hung as a spy?” Said the Priest, obviously still fuming from his discussion with Prometheus.
“Yes me lord, terribly sorry, he told me to give you this scroll.” The messenger then retreated out of the tent, sensing in wasn’t going to be good news.
“Damnit!!!” said the Priest, venting his anger out on the table throwing half way across the tent.
“What is it?” said a bewildered Prometheus
“It says they could not find Hector to lead the Trojans, and that the Hades seems to have took the remains of Achilles to Mount Olympus before he fled.” Said the Priest with his head now buried in his hands.
“Meaning they will have the fury of Achilles leading their army,” said a now sulking Prometheus, realising the ability to win battles that Achilles had.
The two went to their tents to salvage what ever sleep they could; it was a restless night for they had still not came up with a plan to stop Zeus and the other brothers. Now they had to deal with greatest of all Greek heroes Achilles.
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It was midday now and Achilles had been slaughtering us all morning, the fury we had read about did not do justice. He was a man possessed with the quest of living on through the ages, so that everyone who thought of the greatest warrior would think of him first.
“I have to get down there,” shouted the Priest, “Our warriors are disheartened, and even though the Chariots are winning the fight on the eastern side, they are refusing to go near him.” The Priest ran off and accompanied by a few of his bodyguards they ran straight to the front line were Achilles was slashing the limbs of every man. He cut through their bodies with ease, then the Priest realised Achilles was born for this war, not the Trojan War.
The front line started to buckle under the strain of this unholy warrior who fought, not so Zeus could keep his throne, but so that he could prove there was no one better. “Men, fight with me, fight with me, die with me!!!” shouted Priest at the top his lungs, again inspiring the hearts of the men. The began to push their way back to Olympus using their shields to form a huge wall around the cut off Achilles, in his haste he had separated himself from his men, who have become bogged down.
The perfectly shape, blue eyed and blonde hair warrior stood amongst the dead surrounding by the mass army of the Priest. “Is there someone out there who would take me down, even just wound me, and make me feel… human.” Said Achilles with an inextinguishable flame burning in his eyes.
Out of the shield wall stepped the Priest, he stood around his men as an immortal being.
“My lord, here is a scroll from Castor and Pollux,” said a messenger to Prometheus, handing him a scroll. Prometheus took the scroll and unravelled the two word message contained within side it, HECTOR LIVES.
Achilles began to circle Priest, studying him so that he could learn whatever weaknesses he had. He then lunged recklessly at him, forcing Priest to raise his shield to avoid a slice to the neck. Achilles impatient ness for battle meant he continually attacked Priest over and over again, forcing blocked from all sides. Eventually Priest was unable to block to the left and Achilles caught him, “right on the sweet spot,” he thought to himself. Priest fell, just like any other soldier would have, just like so many before him, “This is the best uses can do!!!” Achilles dishonoured Priest by spitting on his dying body.
Achilles then caught a glint of steel in the corner of his eye. A sword pierced through the godlike warrior, it was Hector, the hero of the Trojans, had been revived just like the Gods had revived Achilles. The Sword of Troy had finally tasted the blood of the warrior that’s fury reduced the city to rumble. Hector was a dark character; he stood looking into the writhing eyes of Achilles with utter pleasure and a sick look drew upon his face, Achilles fell to the ground with some force from Hector, he seemed to be trying to escape death again.
“Your leader has fallen, and now you will, unless you bow before the might of me!!!” Hector stared into the withering hearts of the Olympians as they began to bow before him, totally disheartened by the loss of their leader and totally consumed with the fear Hector had put in their hearts.
All the warriors behind Hector cheered his name, unanimously voted him as the leader of the Olympian Order, before Priest’s blood had had time to dry. Everyone rejoiced, excepted Prometheus, who was disheartened by the loss of Priest and at the thought of the terror he may have unleashed on the world.
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Hector quickly swept aside the faithful Olympians and took pity on Zeus and his brothers Hades and Poseidon. He offered them the choice of being sent to Tartarus, or to give up their immortality and live the rest of their lives as mortals on earth, which they reluctantly accepted.
Hector then took the throne of the Gods and began a dictatorship, making the ruling of the Gods before them seem pleasant to his rule. He was eventually overthrown by Prometheus, who drove his own sword, the Sword of Troy, through the chest of Hector saying he dishonoured the sword and all who carried it. The remains of Hector and Achilles were burned and placed in the centre of the earth, too hot for any mortal to go.

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