#cs.event

Selina Wydville, also known as Hecate, the goddess of Ghosts, Magic, Necromancy, Crossroads and Keys. Her sacred companions had always been crows, ravens, cats and hounds.

Crossed Swords AU | Mythology

Santiago de la Roche as Hermes - god of commerce, travel, boundaries, athletes and thievery.

Claudette Valois, also known as Persephone, the Queen of the Underworld, and the goddess of Spring and Rebirth. Adored by all whom she meets, loved by her husband, her King, her Hades.

Céleste Vaillancourt, a reincarnation of Eris, goddess of discord, strife and chaos. In this world, in this life, she is known as Claire Violét, a french lawyer who more enjoys convicting her clients than setting them free, feeding discord and reaping chaos. When using her golden, chaos inflicting magic her eyes turn golden, for a moment, just like the apple she’s tossed to Athena, Hera and Aphrodite, to cause chaos and Trojan war. She isn’t evil, but misunderstood, and as all monsters her malice and so called ‘evilness’ was not born, but made.

The Basics

Name: Athena

Known As: Simone Baptiste

Sexual Orientation: Asexual

Occupation: French Intelligence Agent

Age: 29

Brief Biography & Facts

Athena reincarnates every century or so when she gets annoyed by the failed human endeavors and wishes to take matters into her own hands.

Simone grew up poor with a man who was not her mortal birth father, but she paid that no mind. Her thoughts were always on bigger things than the drama of her own birth. Math was her first love, then came music. She learned quickly (almost too quickly if one were to ask her teachers) and with her growing intellect, she won scholarships and competitions that helped provide for her family.

The realization that she was in fact a goddess in human form didn’t come to her until she became a teenager. The thought came to her fully formed and clad in armor and Simone never questioned this fact.

She was in the marching band in high school and played the trumpet. She tells no one this, but she does still play the trumpet from time to time.

After graduating university a year early, Simone joined the French Army for a year. Her original intent was to rise in the ranks of the military, but instead sought for DGSI, the french internal intelligence agency. She found that her skills would be more useful there than as a soldier. 

Her rise within the agency was quick although it surprised no one who knew her how quickly she became one of the best agents. She uses to position to not only assist her country, but to also search for other gods and goddesses. She feels herself responsible for making sure that no one spills their secret given her position. 

On the weekends, she helps her good friend Marie (Artemis) with the girls’ camp that she runs. 

It is the dawn of the 21st century, and human civilisation seem to have long developed past the times where they worshipped their gods. But unbeknownst to them, the gods have never left, for they—along with other mythical beings—have always existed among mankind, dwelling in the shadows and walking under broad daylight. How much of what made up history have been influenced by the gods, have they been pulling the strings, or do they plan to do so at all?

The second AU event will be taking place in the week of September 25th with Mythology being the popular setting this time round. Under certain mystical influences, most deities have decided to round up in Paris, France of the physical realm of Earth. Explore this setting, freely interpret your characters and let them sip on their wine in the modern times of 2017!

Some divine notes and reminders:

The event is optional, as per usual, and there is no official ending date however AU threads are expected to wrap up around the second week of October—the 9th which also happens to be Canadian Thanksgiving, if you will.

AU threads may be written along canon ones, or the latter can be put on hold, it is up for the participants to decide.

Feel free to plot around and toy with minor world building details with your fellow players that chose the same mythology setting for their character as you did! In a general sense however, Earth would be the only physical realm the story will be taking place in(though feel free to visit other places such as the Underworld), and the human population at large are not aware of the actual existence of mythical beings. Use the real world and actual history as a reference to build on! Continue to co-exist with the humans peacefully, plan to wreck havoc or advance some other godly agenda, go wild.

Any knowledge discovered in this AU or events that take place in the AU will not be included in game canon.

Below the Read More you can see how each godly beings (and Armaud) have reincarnated to integrate themselves this time:

The fire flickered fitfully, chasing over the faces of the dancers as they weaved their way in and and around the flames. Tristan sat, removed for once, from the festivities, picking at his food restlessly with the other nobility upon the raised dias. If he had had his say in the situation, he would have been with his brothers, eating in shifts and standing guard. Instead, he had the dubious pleasure of sitting next to his father, Henri d’Aumont, General of France’s Army, who if anything had been treating him with an even chillier air since his son’s last exploit had struck his ears.

The older man, graceful and understated as he chatted quietly with the Secretary of Foreign Affairs on the opposite side of him, hadn’t officially voiced his displeasure. Still, Tristan had heard, in the doubling-back and roundabout ways of Court that his father had renewed efforts in order to have him suitably wed, without informing the King. It maddened Henri, he knew, that he had no official say in this, not now that Alexandre had come into power and he couldn’t effortlessly exert his paternal control over his youngest son.

Tristan did his best to not to meet his eyes, keeping his attention focused forward. The Musketeer had done his best to dress for the light formality of the occasion, clothed in uniform, but he still felt out of place separated from the crowd below. He was uncomfortable side by side with Alexandre as well, now that his wife was nearby and the knowledge of it all sat heavily between them.

His only saving grace had been the small band, musicians recruited from somewhere deep within Paris, skilled all. They took the group of dancers through several lively reels, and a few slower songs, before they finally fell into a soft, Celtic ditty that was strangely familiar to Tristan’s ears. Despite how he searched his mind, he couldn’t place where he had heard it, but it was eerily lovely as those few slow notes began, and the band’s young singer stepped forward. In a high, clear voice like a bell, the singer began to accompany it:

Oh, all the money that e'er I spent I spent it in good company And all the harm that e'er I’ve done Alas, it was to none but me

The music slowed and the dancing slowed with it, the dancers and the merrymakers transfixed by the purity of the young man’s voice. There was something melancholy in the words as they soared and drifted like the smoke emanating from the flames. Tristan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, a sudden chill rush down his spine, although he had nothing to connect it to. It was only the midsummer moon, the song, the fire, the flickering of flames distorting features and distorting thoughts.

And all I’ve done for want of wit To memory now I can’t recall So fill to me the parting glass Good night and joy be with you all.

His father’s voice, embroiled in one of his characteristic, drowning lectures, cut off suddenly in a throat-clearing. Tristan didn’t bother to glance to him, still transfixed by the young man’s voice and the beauty of the song. Henri often cleared his throat when he was impatient or disliked something. It was only after the third consecutive time, and a new sound, a guttural gasp that followed, that Tristan finally yanked up his head and regarded him. The Musketeer’s expression, which was full of trepidation, shifted quickly into one of horror. The dancers had stopped dancing. The dias was thrown into chaos. His father fell, dragging down the tablecloth with him, clawing at his throat. Tristan, driven by instinct, launched himself towards him, while the majority stared in terrified silence.

He attempting to half-carry his father down from the dias before the older man buckled out of his hands, straightening out hard against the cobbles of the square.  As Tristan turned him over in his arms, there was a gasp from the onlookers. The Marshal of France’s face had turned a hideous shade of purple and he was still struggling desperately to breathe. Foam bubbled up between parted lips, white, and tinged with blood. Tristan, who had attempted to remain calm, cradling his father, was unravelling. Tears stung his eyes. “Help,” he cried out to the panicked onlookers. “Please.” His voice shattered. “Please, he’s my father. Your general. Please, please help me.”

All the while, the song continued on.

Oh all the comrades that e'er I’ve had Are sorry for my going away And all the sweethearts that e'er I’ve had Would wish me one more day to stay

Alexandre had rushed towards him at some point, almost unnoticed, trying to support Henri as Tristan desperately tried to clear his airwaves. Again, and again, he tried, pressing hard and desperately against his father’s chest, watching the great, cool gaze become more and more unfocused.  A harsh rattling escaped Henri, slumping in his son’s grip, but Tristan refused to give up. “No,” he spat, and kept trying, jolting the lifeless body in his arms, trying to raise the dead with his own trembling hands. “No, he can’t be, Alexandre, help me. Help me—-“

“Please—-”

In the weeks since the attack on the Bastard King, Fernand had been pushing La Bande Noire harder than in recent years. He knew he had become complacent, and now was not the time to be idle. He had made his way to a tavern close to home so he wouldn’t have far to stumble back at the end of the night, the need to wash out the memories of the weeks past taking over his actions. The thought of being alone in a quiet room was agonizing. He wanted the familiar noise of people. Anything to forget the cell he had found himself in, trapped with that damnable captain of the Red Guard.

Of all the money that e'er I spent I’ve spent it in good company And all the harm that ever I did Alas it was to none but me

The usual crowd was filling the room with the scent of sweat, along with the smell of cooking fires from the transients who flowed through the city like the Seine. He noticed a group of men, Spaniards, gathering and drinking around a table in the back corner. The Spanish had been feeling the heat from the attempt on the King’s life as well, quickly becoming the country’s whipping boy for the crime. The threat of war was growing with every passing day. Some of the men near the bar cast disdainful looks at them, but a tense peace was maintained, for now. The Spaniards had gathered with a handful of men he had seen in recent months, two who were already drunk and singing to themselves.

And all I’ve done for want of wit To memory now I can’t recall So fill to me the parting glass Good night and joy be with you all

Fernand had been content to sit, just wanting to be surrounded by the noise and stench of people again. He almost missed the man, one of the members of La Bande Noire, making his way into the tavern. Not tonight. Fernand thought. Unless it is the location of the heir, please let me just have tonight to myself. But the man didn’t seem to notice Fernand, instead making his way over to the group in the corner. Fernand didn’t feel right about this. He made his way across the room, sitting close enough to hear what was said but to remain unnoticed.

If I had money enough to spend And leisure to sit awhile There is a fair maid in the town That sorely has my heart beguiled

Fernand came in part way through the conversation, spoken in hushed and bitter tones, “Baptiste is scrambling for information, but he’s useless without that sister of his. I hope the bastard is successful. We could get lucky and get to bring down two kings instead of one.” He recognized the voice of the man he had thought to be a friend, sneering and harsh as he whispered. This was not a conversation meant for him.

The apparent ring leader of the group tonight spoke up, “Antoine Guilleri would see the king overthrown, the monarchy brought to ruin. Men are to answer to none but themselves, and those pompous aristocrats are going to answer for their crimes.” Some grunting cheers of approval met this new voice, Spanish and French alike.

Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips I own she has my heart enthralled So fill to me the parting glass Good night and joy be with you all

Fernand felt his heart drop into his stomach, a sickening chill taking over him. Antoine Guilleri was a name that was whispered in the darkest of shadows, and any mention of him could not end well. The apparent presence of his men and the attack on the king could only mean one thing. Guilleri was coming, and with him a storm that threatened to destroy everything Fernand had worked for, along with himself. Fernand did not fear many things, but he feared the stories of Antoine Guilleri.

Oh, all the comrades that e'er I had They’re sorry for my going away And all the sweethearts that e'er I had They’d wish me one more day to stay

The men continued their singing, a few new voices joining in the tune. Fernand finished his drink before quietly making his way out of the tavern. The silence of the street seemed comforting instead of maddening now. He had to find Simone, had to warn her about the coming storm, and for the first time in more than a decade, he prayed. Even as he made his way through the streets, the song seemed to follow him. The haunting melody continuing even as his footsteps quickened until he was running, the pounding of his feet against the cobblestones matching the thundering in his chest.