Chapter 1: The Fall of Troy

Tiwaz, you see no sign of the massive serpent. Actually, judging from the few startled expressions, you aren't quite sure if the bystanders saw the snake at all, or assumed you were struck with arrows during a leaping attack. You do, however, get the impression that the encounter was meant to slow you down, but also teach you how to be stronger.

Tiwaz, you are able to find some of the meat that had been sacrificed that evening when the Trojans thought they won. There are offerings to Athena, Aphrodite, and Ares. As they help pack, a few other soldiers are helping themselves.

May you see home again with the blessings of the gods, Helen prays before slipping into the shadows.

The majority of the fighting seems to have been completed. Soldiers gather their loot and prisoners, getting drunk on any wine they can find and filling their bellies with raided food. The relief in the air is palpable, at least among the Greeks. With the largest cacophony coming from the upper city, you head to the temple, where cries of sorrow morph into bawdy camp songs. The rest of the Greeks have arrived in full force, it seems, and that's when it hits you.

It's over.

Come dawn, or perhaps afternoon when at least your leaders can feign sobriety, you'll load into the ships. Then in less than a month you'll be home.

Home. For Iantha and Chryseis, not yet. Some day, but not yet. You long to mourn your kin and queen among your sisters, but tensions are high right now. You saved Helen, a single loc of her golden hair tied safely inside your armor so that your final acts of loyalty cannot be disputed. But first, a Hunt to clear your minds. To give wounds a chance to heal. To wet your blades on something not nearly as complicated as man.


How simple man is! At least to the Luwian. A full belly, bandaged wounds, the thrill of final victory, and a vision to contemplate as you rest. What more could you want? Well, Odysseus does owe you. It's been difficult to seek the king's wisdom while he's been using it for war. But he's bound to have a magnificent homecoming. It will be nice to partake, to see the lovely countryside again, and to bend the king's ear under far more pleasant circumstances.


Kouru, the idea of retiring to the forge, finally, with a wife by your side, is a pleasant one - regardless of who she is. Your father is a wise man. She'll certainly be lovely. Your imagination toys with the sound of clinking wine goblets mingled with the sounds of your tales and crackling of the forge. The pounding of hammers....pounding.....pounding......pounding in your skull...

But you're injured. Surely that's all this is, right?


For Nikias, arranging a noble husband for your daughter will be far less stressful than your hand in Helen's fate. You trust your wife has managed affairs wisely. Between her efforts and your honorable return, your little girl should want for nothing as long as she lives. However, when you reach the temple, the reality of these wives and daughters leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Your stomach turns at the sight of the palladium cracked on the ground, the faint scent of reptiles mingling with sacrificial meat, and the sound of one of Priam's daughters huddled on the steps, unbound yet frozen by her own madness.

Raging stormclouds...Scattered shields...Death on the rocks...

She takes nervous glances to Ajax, who is celebrating - albeit subdued - beside your king Odysseus. Other soldiers pry the golden decoratios off the toppled statue of Athena, for the statue itself is far too large for the ship. Nobody pays the woman heed, but you believe her. Maybe it was one large act. Maybe it was a variety of slaps in the face. But Athena is offended.

"War..." came the thought unbidden as the Spartan leans against the door post of the temple, his shield propped up against his side to flash his family insignia to any who would seek to enter "War never changes." Though the Greeks as a whole were a rabble compared to his own countrymen, they fought well enough in the phalanx and died honorably enough on the field. He had given orders under the blessing of a war king and trusted that he'd be obeyed. There were enough Spartans among the temple looters, he hoped, to maintain order and propriety for the property of their king, their city, and of course the man who had laid first claim. Glancing over his shoulder the scout would notice the shivering form of "the crazy one", and shaking out the ringing in his ears would order "You. There's no time for that. Gather your father and any of your family who are here to my side. You'll want my protection before this is all done". Protection. Defense. Attack. Aggression. What did they all have in common? Thoughts flitted about his mind to the beat of the drums... glasses... hammer... as a finger reaches up, wet with blood, and traces a message on the stone doorpost for the ages "𐤏𐤓𐤄 𐤍𐤀𐤕𐤇 𐤏𐤓𐤏𐤊". His men were at their task, his honour fulfilled, and his future was full of promise. In a month he'd be home richer than any man had any right to be, royalty among his slaves, beauty and power in the city temple, and his Good King justified at last after a grievous wrong had been done.

All was well.

Kouru nods at his fellow veteran, glad to see a familiar face among the unbearded youths and their... choices "Cousin Nikias" comes the even (if slightly wheezed) greeting "I've managed to claim the temple, and all within. What can be salvaged will be brought to the great temples in Sparta" Oh, he's talking to the princess. "Huh. A king and a princess. There's a tale there, in the making. That which is broken being recast..." The old soldier raises his helmet, his blue and red striped crest catching the temple light as his eyes are revealed with wide, unfocused pupils "There was a bit of... youthful indiscretion, but nothing that won't be remedied with proper sacrifice when things have calmed down. Come, child. Your family." shifting his attention back to Cassandra he'd wince, pulling a pouch from his belt and beginning to pack his wounds with herbs "Get them here in front of me, and get them known. I don't want what nearly happened to you to happen to your sisters, your brothers, or any other of your kinfolk."

Ah, bugger off, Spartan. This is everyone.

The voice comes from a young man. Judging from his stubble his beard hasn't fully grown in, but he tries to be clean-shaven anyway. You know. When his city isn't thrown upside down. I am Helenus, and this is my twin sister Cassandra. We're seers of Lord Apollo and Lady Athena, respectively. You have our father and our mother Hecuba. We've watched all our other kin fall by battle, raid, or despair, and any surviving concubines are probably claimed as war brides by now. Wise Odysseus has even managed to get Hector's son killed. You've claimed the temple. Maybe let your other kings parse out what's left.

Helenus... his sister protests quietly.

His demeanor makes a jarring snap to one more compassionate and gentle. Save your strength, Cass, this is only the beginning.

Looks like my best option.

He steps back so you can crush the jail cell door with your hammer. He's athletic, though you can tell that his training has been limited to body weight exercises as of late. His hair is long and unkempt, and his beard matches.

I'm Kurush. Thank you. The rest of my stuff should be around here somewhere. As he rustles through the storage in the basement of the temple, you get an odd impression that he wasn't meant to be a sacrifice. His wounds appear to be from the past six months or so.