Welcome to Bleach Society Role-Play, BSRP for short. We're a Beginner to Advanced canon site with non-canon elements for maximum roleplay enjoyment. We focus on characters' individual stories; however, there are many more than your own. Best viewed in Google Chrome!
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Theocelese sighed, flipping open the top of his satchel and shuffling about the contents inside the leather container. Cigarettes, small journal, pens, a bottle of water, and other personal items. The one thing in particular that he was looking for was a letter that was delivered by a man clothed in the robes of the times he knew now so well. No words were exchanged, the letter was just given and the messenger went on his way. Wasn't Hermes, that one was known to be a bit of a talker when he wanted to. This was probably some servant or another. 'Ah...here it is.' Theocelese found the letter in between the pages of his journal and brought it out to read it again. It asked him to come back to the place of his origin, no town or city in particular. He just needed to be here, on the beach, and assumed he would be found when needed.
No doubt the Old Ones were in need of something. He was, after all, in their debt. A couple of them at least, but you owe one something, then that meant you owed the whole lot your time and patience. Regardless of what was asked, it would be nice to get to mingle with the super powers of a time when a man was bound by his honor. There were no bustling cities, metal chariots or technology people hundreds of years later only dreamed of. Theocelese knew of Athena's continued existence, as well as that of Hephaestus, but was unaware of any others. No doubt they had to lie low when the beliefs of the people they ruled shifted elsewhere. Maybe that made them...weaker, maybe it didn't. Whatever the story, he knew he'd probably get it sooner or later.
“Why keep me? What do you need, Old One?” His arms rose up, clutching the letter in his hand. There was silence, and such a silence would beget his arms falling against his side as if he wasn't surprised at the absence of the one who called him here.
As the sun began to kiss the horizon, casting a bloody hue over the sky as twilight began herald the night, Athena made her presence known. The sands trembled along the beach, shaking in anticipation of a divine guest upon their humble back, a small mound forming not a moments walk away from the only 'living' thing on the stretch of land. From the mound sprouted a small sprig which in tern grew, coming into form quickly and arcing as branches and leaves sprouted from the swiftly forming tree. It bent and twisted to form a sort of doorway even as plump olives began to dangle from the branches, light seeming to emanate from the little structure. From the silvery light stepped what could only rightly be described as a goddess.
She led with her spear, a comparatively simple weapon made of solid gold, reflecting the twilight sun like a radiant weapon of bloody fire. Her own countenance was similarly simple upon initial inspection, white robes that lazily moved in the subtle beach winds clasped in the metal embrace of a golden breast plate adorned with heroic embosses. She wore pristine leather and gold boots, and with every foot fall met with polished and perfectly smooth Greek marble that seemed to form out of nothingness. The path of marble formed just in front of her, keeping pace with her decisive pace as she marched up to Theocelese, giving the distinct impression that if she chose not to, nothing in this mortal plane could stop her. She did stop however, close enough to Theocelese that she had to look down past her nose at the man, her piercing grey eyes seeming to glow from within the shadows of her helmet.
Tch... She was disappointed by what she saw, this man was the Theocelese she had watch in battle? He seemed listless, tired and forlorn, not a warrior, not a keen mind, just sad and pointless. If it hadn't been for his 'record' thus far, his proven prowess in combat and war, she would have turned and left him right there and then, alone to wallow in his self pity and solitude. Instead, she decided to respect the warrior she knew he had buried in his soul beneath the monster, past the laments for his family lost. We keep you because you are useful, and what I need is a warrior. I need somebody powerful enough to be trusted with a task beyond the scope of mortal power. Now, you answer me this, do I have what I need standing before me?
And so Athena appeared before him, elegant and deadly. The gaze of her eyes sent tremors up the length of his back, prickling the skin up to the backside of his neck. Still, he showed no true signs of fear that did not morph into anything but vigilance. He would not allow himself to grovel, or praise Athena in any manner. Not yet, anyway. The shifting area around him brought him back to the time of his origin, and the subtle changes in his facial expression showed he felt a bit more at ease and glad to have a semblance of home.
“I've had my time to mourn for what Hektor, Paris and Helen have done to me, but being the object of their undoing and knowing they have paid for their crimes against me has brought me closure. I could not have avenged Sophia if it were not for your guidance, or Hephaestus and his forge,” He took a moment to pat the sheathed blade hanging at his side. “Ultimately, I am indebted to you and your task. Of all the Achaens, there is no one better than me. That is why Ajax and Odysseus fought for my armor when the coward Paris ambushed me with Apollo's aid.” He spoke the latter two names with malice, and the memory of his dying moments caused his arms to cross over his chest. Athena knew better than the others what happened when he flew into a rage.
“You look at me with contempt, but know that I will carry out what must be done. You only seek strife if the cause is just, and I have been known in my newest of lives to do the same. I will always be ready to prove myself.” Theocelese declared, his arms loosening up to go into the satchel. One item in particular, he'd made as a gift. No doubt Odysseus was one of her favored heroes, but the part of his Theocelese mentality knew something like this might be something to be cherished. Besides being a legendary strategist, Athena was known for her aid in the fine arts. From within the decades old bag, he took out a black vase no bigger than a wine bottle. It was etched with two olive trees with branches spanning across the length of the vase so they connected. Dozens of owls were showing flying about and sitting in the branches. He held the vase out to Athena.
“I made this for you, as well as the wine inside, as a thanks for your previous aid.”
His words seemed sincere enough, a trait rare among the adopted children of Echidna, but not unheard of. The confidence that she heard in his tone, he certainly was sure that he could accomplish her task, despite not knowing what it entailed. Clearly he would swing his sword with a sure grip and solid conviction. Athena saw this as much as a sign of respect to her as it was proof of her choice, as a warrior who had lost his edge would have folded under her scrutiny, cowered as she called them on their inadequacies. It would have been insulting for her chosen tool of revenge to be… wrong.
He showed her proper respect even further, producing an offering of hand fashioned pottery and wine. It had been too long since she had received a tribute from the mortal plane, even if such things were only really for her to enjoy in spirit alone. Most of what the mortal realm could produce paled when set next to the opulent world of Olympus; so many millennia past was it loosed to drift away from the mortal plane so that the gods may pursue their own endeavours without the incessant whining of the mortals at their door. Even so, she enjoyed the recognition, the confirmation that she deserved whatever the mortals could present her, it was nice.
How very formal of you. She said as she accepted the vase and wine, the slightest of smiles gracing her lips as she inspected the etchings. It was a fine piece of art, and she had little doubt the wine was of at least decent caliber. She may have to age it a few centuries for it to properly excite her pallet, but she was a Goddess, if there was anything she had it was time. She turned and let the vase go, it drifted lazily down the marble path as if floating down a river until it disappeared into the olive tree portal. While it is well appreciated, a truer thanks for our aid would be success, dear Theocelese. Now, tell me if in that age and death addled mind of yours, do you remember Aeneas?
Theocelese finally let loose a small smile and a shrug of his own, his own positive way of saying 'it was nothing', in regards to the gifted vase and wine. The smile shifted to a curious gaze, complete with a lifted brow and slow paced tapping on his blade's sheath. “Aeneas? I know my son Neoptlemus killed Priam and his other sons in front of him, and I knew he was a survivor of Troy's downfall. Of course, I was then as I am now, merely a ghost at that point. But given my interest in the old tales in my previous life, I've read the Aeneid. I was unimpressed by that man's journey.” With arms crossed over his chest again, Theocelese walked over to nearby stone to lean against. It could be seen in his eyes, Theocelese was wondering why Rome's propaganda boy was the matter of discussion. It had not occurred to him until this moment that just as he was a reality—Achilles, reborn time and time again, finally had come to know who he truly was, no doubt the other heroes of the Old World epics could still be around. Whether or not they knew who they were was a different subject all together.
“You need a warrior to complete a task, to send on a divine quest so to speak. You've come to me. I take it he has done something to greatly offend you?” His curiosity bordered into excitement to hear the answer.
Offend?!Athena looked indignantly at Theocelese, the thought of the man she asked Theocelese to hunt boiled her blood and let her rage leak through the otherwise calm and calculating demeanour. He STOLE from me! ME! She said with passion, as if the idea was unthinkable. The marble below her feet cracked and splintered under the stress of her vitriolic stomp and increasing spiritual pressure. Sand kicked up and the wind blew as if to mirror her anger, nature offended that somebody would have the gall to steal from a Goddess. Even Hermes does not know how the mortal managed to sneak along the narrow passages between this world and Olympus! Only the gods can tread those gilded halls! Her heated outburst seemed to cool as she regained her composure, it would not due to show a lack of control in front of a servant, it was unseemly. However he did it, the result is the same. He walked from my temple with the last weave of Arachne, the most stunning tapestry woven by mortal hands before I… immortalized Arachne in my own way. Athena always considered her interaction with Arachne a sore spot, the woman was a wonderful artist, and it angered the Goddess how a simple mortal woman could out pace her divine fingers on a loom. For having bested a Goddess, Arachne had been killed in a moment of fury for Athena did not like to be bested in any manner. In recompense, Athena gave the woman new life as the mother of weavers, sealing her soul in the body of a spider and letting her go about her trade. The tapestry was a keepsake and reminder, but beyond that it was impregnated with Olympian energy for staying in the realm of gods for so long. She didn’t know what could be wrought with such an artifact, but didn’t want to test the creativity of its thief.
Archimedes spied him last on the isle of Crete, not a day ago with the tapestry in hand. She said, petting the owls head as if giving credit where credit was due. As a goddess of war and knowledge, it was her pleasure to watch as battles unfolded. Archimedes was her main method of doing so, as he could seek out any battle she wished, or any warrior she wished to see so long as they were doing battle. Aeneas was in a bar fight, simple mortal men that he subdued without issue, but it was enough for Archimedes’ keen eyes to spot. The bar is known as the ‘Conor Pass Irish Pub’ an unruly and disgusting place. Your hunt starts there. She said, turning to walk back to the portal still humming on the beach. I may ask Hephaestus what could be forged from the tapestry’s power, and perhaps he will come to assist you. He gets so very… antsy in that forge of his. She said before leaving, no parting well wishes or instructions. She trusted he knew how to start a hunt, and wishing him luck was tantamount to blasphemy considering he was on a divine task.
That curiosity on the face of Theocelese turned into a look of unamusement. It was not that the situation did not call for extreme actions to be taken, it did, but it was the fact that even in his revelation that the very Goddess who stood before him was real—not just words on paper—he did not seek them out in any way. He knew that when the time came for him to see Athena, Hephaestus, or any of the other gods, it would happen. For the most part, the Ancient Ones kept to themselves and held no plans to shape the world. Their realm was their own, just as the humans had come to inherit Earth, the Shinigami called the Soul Society home and Hollowkind did the same for Hueco Mundo. To Theocelese, this was a violation of the highest degree. Not only did Aeneas skulk in the shadows and move about Olympus in a manner unseen, but stole something precious from the ages of time that did not belong to him.
“This offense shall not go unpunished, Athena.” Theocelese spoke out loud, knowing even though she departed, she could still hear him if she chose to. Such a promise was one he reckoned would be heard.
The ground beneath his feet splintered when his image was replaced with the sound of static. He left the beach, and moved onwards towards Crete. He made haste, to ensure the days worth of time to make up for did not have more of a gap greater than an afternoon's time. In other circumstances, he would have taken some time to enjoy the place, but now was not the time for enjoyment. His airborne pace was faster than the fastest human could run, and his pattern started at the Pub Aeneas was mentioned to have been seen last at. Theocelese spiraled outwards, looking to find some spiritual trace of the Trojan Hero. It was worth a shot to start, even though he could be hiding himself with the same means used to penetrate Olympus. His eyes remained open to anything suspicious, or out of the ordinary. Granted, there would be some few who could actually see him, but he was more interested in faces and the expressions they held. A face attributed with a negative emotion or overconfidence, furled brows and unpleasant looks, wide grins and dark smiles was what he was after.
There was always the doubt this was all for nothing, but being able to cover ground from the sky made up for it. It was better to find a trace of Aeneas' spiritual presence than to examine the inside of the bar. If Aeneas fought the mortal men, he held a mortal body of some sort. Theocelese did not, but as a back up plan he would choose to go into establishment and question anyone aware of his presence.
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CBOX RULES
I. DON'T START/ENGAGE IN DRAMA.
II. DON'T ASK FOR GRADINGS.
III. RESPECT EVERYONE.
IV. NO BIGOTRY.
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XI. IF STAFF ASKS YOU TO STOP OR MOVE ON, DO IT.
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