Ares
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Character Details

The history of the god of war is varied and myriad. The tales that surround his life are many. Here is what is known of him, and here is what he perhaps admits to.
Before there was a Thrace, there was an Ares. It was in this land that he was born, son of Zeus and Hera. Abandoned as a child, let loose in the wild, it was amongst the chaos and primal that he thrived. His lineage assured him success and survival, his anger led him to excel. His mind fell to warlike tasks, to battle, to striving and taking from those around him who could not defend themselves sufficiently. At the age of twelve he was hailed as 'king' amongst those who would be known as Thracians. His rule was harsh, his neighbors bemoaned to the gods his existence. As the years passed his reach grew. Eventually he took many wives, and of those wives only one son was born. It was his son Thrax that would create the great citystate of Thrace, Thrax that would go on to be remembered as the first Thracian. For Ares was a god, and once he reached his majority lording over one mere city was not enough. It was to Olympus he must go.
At the head of an army marched Ares. Some would say that he marched to avenge himself upon his father. Some would say he sought to free his mother from servitude. Others even said he simply marched for that is what Ares does. Ares is war, he must fight, and so that is what he would do.
At the foot of Mount Olympus the army made camp. Ares stood vigil, glaring up at its heights. From a distance one of the sentries saw the arrival of Zeus, ever theatrical in appearance by heralding his approach with raucous thunder and a flash of lightning. The two gods spoke, the old and the young. Whatever was said was lost in time, but a peace was made. Ares was accepted into the pantheon, he was home.
Over the years many stories could be told. Of Ares' involved ment with the other gods, in the games they played, in their fiddling with the lives of mortals. Centuries passed, the world changed.

Throughout time Ares knew unrest. He was a god amongst the pantheon, with his family, his father and mother. Yet he was not of them. Aphrodite at times took pity on him, but there was a distance between he and the other gods. They considered him beneath them, he was an uncivilized creature, brought in from the wilds. He was a dog kept on a chain, and the chain was strong. To the other gods he was lesser. They were the light, he was too much the dark. Athena was the true god of war to them, she was duty and strategy… he… he was merely carnage and chaos.

Then came a time for when Ares could prove himself. Zeus' brother, Pluto, felt the moment was right to strike at Olympus. A great army of the soulless and the dead marched with him, assailing the heights of the great mountain. The defenses of the Greek Gods fell, overrun by the hordes of the undying. It was only when they were at the gates of Zeus' hall that the gods turned and called for Ares. Aphrodite's strategy had failed, their warriors had fallen. They needed the wild dog, they needed the god of war.

Ares answered the call. Rallying his soldiers and leaping into the fray, Ares pushed back Pluto's horde. He slaughtered them horribly, dismembering the corpses, defiling their souls, destroying any chance that Pluto could bring them back or that they'd have peace in the afterlife. It was only once the blood work was done, only once that the army was broken and Pluto was in retreat that Ares removed the helm from his head and looked upon the grim carnage.

It was not strategem that won the day, not honor, not the light. It was doing what must be done in the time of war that saved Olympus, diving to those depths and returning with bloodied hands. But finally, finally he felt perhaps he had earned the respect he craved. Perhaps the gods would know thanks, would know appreciation. But it was not to be.

Upon entering the halls of the gods he found them downtrodden, angered, refusing to meet his gaze. He walked in to his mother and father speaking harsh words about what they had unleashed upon the world, about how it would have been better to let Olympus fall than to have Ares' actions defile it so.

Enraged Ares turned his back on them. He descended from Olympus, ignoring the words of the other gods. He renounced his birthright, turned away from his mantle as god of war. To earth he fell, he chose to enter the world as a mortal, god no more.

For several decades Ares lived as mortals lived. Taking the name of John Aaron he made a living, and as time passed grew to be more at peace with himself. It was not, however, until the birth of his son when he would finally find a center for himself. It was only upon the arrival of Alexander that he finally in all of the time of creation felt whole. Alexander's mother passed in child birth, leaving Ares a single father.
It was strange to him, having this responsibility thrust upon him. Alexander was nothing like Deimos or Phobos. Those two sons of Ares grew up nigh unto instantly, ethereal creatures of concept and in some ways… evil. Alexander was a small babe, premature, needing of care. The shift was abrupt, and nothing else mattered more. Olympus could burn, the wars of the world could be waged without him.
So as we join Ares now, he is content in being a father. He is content on working construction in New York City. He is content with being mortal. Alexander is four years old, he is provided for, and life… life is g

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Ares.JPG
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