Olympnomachi Book 12: The Theft of the Stjárgamen & The Cursed Heroes who Sought it

Macaria's BAAAAAACK!

Forbidden from descending upon the mortal realm, and from meddling in its affairs, Macaria hesitated for a time. So that she did not attempt, to enter Miðgarðr for some time, her hesitancy borne from fear of awakening the wroth of the four Pantheons. The decision was made for her (or so she believed), the moment she heard, of the theft of the Stjárgamen. Stolen by the Elven prince Pelunion, who desired it for himself, after centuries of studying under Dvalin, his sudden theft was seen by the old Dwarf, who cried out so loudly, that his voice echoed throughout the forest of Velentia.

Hearing of this, thanks to Zisa, who brought back the news to her, with the goddess taking off at once, telling herself as she did so that, none of the gods would ever notice. The goddess entered into the mortal realm, in the guise of an old crone, her helm close at hand.

It did not take her long, to find the Elf in the lands of the Elves, whereupon she sought to take it from him, in the midst of the night, whilst he slept. Her breath hitched far more, once she held the Stjárgamen in her hand, with the jewel directly against the flesh of her hand, which it burnt. Just as it had the flesh of Pelunion, when he had first stolen the great gem-stone was burnt black, so that her palm was eternally scarred.

Still she gripped it, too keen to hold it, to release it. The stench and sound, of her flesh burning awaken the Elf-thief, Morvlathar who once he had awoken, attempted to wrestle it from her grasp. His fury gave him strength enough, to for a brief moment pull the Stjárgamen from her, only for her to shed her guise, as an elderly crone. Dressed now in the raiment, of the dark armoured warrior, with her blade in hand, she ran him through with it.

The gem now hers, whereas she had whence she first set out, told herself that she was doing this, for Dvalin. Greed and vanity overcame her, as she held the Stjárgamen near her. Pleased, she wore it about her throat, from that day onwards, with her appearance thanks to its great light and magic, no longer unappealing. To the contrary, so voluptuous did she appear, when she wore it that, only Freyja with her own necklace, and Amaterasu could rival her for beauty.

This pleased her inordinately, even as she vowed not to release it, and refused to return to Erebus, lest her husband or friends seek to take it from her. Still, she could not lay claim to any realm, outside of Miðgarðr, pondering the question at some length, as she hid in the dark of the realm of mortals. She in time decided that, she had to attempt rebellion once more, this time with the might of the Stjárgamen, and what support she could lay claim to, from her ancestress Gaea. Whom she sought aid from, aware that the ancient goddess was as cruel as ever, and unlikely to genuinely wish to assist her, this in mind, Macaria approached her, with silken words. To accomplish the task, she encouraged Gaea to mother Tython. She did this with one of the Balar race of Giants, whom the Tuatha Dé Danann had fought against, for eons. This part of her manipulation of Gaea, made the Stjárgamen burn with renewed fury, into Macaria’s flesh. Burning where it resided near her throat, burning her for the first time there, as was right given, the malevolence endemic, in her evil schemes since she had seized, the Stjárgamen.

Pleased by this diversion, Macaria then set about, smash and raising up higher than before, the mountains of Íkosidaktylos between Doris and Aechea. Building down below them, a grand palace which she dubbed Roscastrum (the Red-Keep), and which she invited the Furies, Enryes, Balors and other fell-beasts to, others were drawn by the fell-nature of her spirit. One that had forgotten much, of the previous love she had once held for her husband, brother and her cause. So deep was the despair and anger, over her losses and the selfish vanity inspired, by the Stjárgamen that, she could no more feel compassion for others, than she could forswear the gem.

Countless are the horrors that ensued, throughout the land or in her fortress, where many ventured to either attempt to stop her, take her treasures from her, or to punish her for her defiance of the gods. Many found their way, into her prisons below ground, where many a men’s very bodies were ground down to nothing, their screams echoing throughout the halls, for centuries.

So terrible was her power there, was her unholy might in those halls that, not even Zeus dared to venture down there, for fear of being smote and captured, by the terrible goddess. Armed, with her hyena enforcers and crows, who ventured throughout the nearby lands, in search of meat and victims, hers was the most hated name, in that age.

The first great hero to challenge her was the son of Poseidon, Panagiotis. Trained in arms, by Zerapus, as well as in virtue by the Centaur who was one of the finest philosophers in the land, his was thus a renowned name, by the time he dared to venture towards Roscastrum. Panagiotis‘s mother was the lady Sara, a fisherman’s daughter of such renowned beauty, and gentility of character that, men came far and wide, to the city of Ocearia. Where she lived with her father, who was old and almost infirm, by the time of his grandson’s inception, with the sea-god tricking the lady one night, by luring her onto a boat. Once there, he forced himself upon her, with Amphitrite in such a rage, when she discovered the truth that, she flooded the city. Sinking it to the bottom of the sea, unaware that the maiden in question, had been spirited away by Trident, just before she struck down the city, with the young woman’s father dying in the flood.

Giving birth in the wilderness, on the isle of Orkila which had grown from whence Orcus’s feet touched the surface of the sea, between Doria and Ilion. The lady was cared for, by a group of Minotaur shepherds. From the moment, he was born the young boy was rowdy, and fascinated by the sea, so that his father revealed himself to him, just before his thirteenth year.

Awed, and encouraged to venture out to sea, he set out with the noble goal of finding his way, to the court of the petty King of Mivoa in Kretia, to punish the man, for his many crimes. Not least of which, was his terrible actions against the Taurlians, as for decades he had had them hunted as cattle, until they had fled across the sea. Full of vigour and a just heart, he went wither to the King’s court, where the King sat with all his warriors, assembled before him, and commanded him to let the Minotaurs return to their ancestral homeland. Arriving there by virtue of a small boat, he had built himself in a hurry, he had manned the oars until any other man’s hands might have been red, yet not his. His skin was as diamonds, so fierce and mighty was it.

Sneering at him, the King had his finest warrior Belagarius, attempt to wrestle him to the ground. The mighty Kretian brute was thrust down, to the ground by his energetic foe to the stunned bewilderment, of all those present whom, could do little more than gape. Infuriated, the King Panagiotis attempted to now rid himself, of the lad by promising to allow the Minotaurs to return. Upon condition that, the boy retrieve the King’s mother’s gold-comb from the cave in Mt- Chrysóvounó (Gold-Mountain). Where it had been stolen, by a monstrous Striga, one that had swallowed the comb, and which was said to have been borne from the King’s cousin, the lady Myrto.

Agreeing easily enough, the lad ventured thither to the cavern, where he encountered it and where it broke it’s upon his flesh. Once this done, he snapped its neck and cut its head off, before he brought it back with the comb, torn from its stomach. Presenting the bloody trophies, to the King he daunted the monarch so much that, he acquiesced at once. Still though, Mihalis was by no means a changed man, and preferred to wait until the Minotaurs, were newly returned.

Not being particularly foolish, Panagiotis preferred to utilise trickery to undermine the King, saying he was heading off to the isle in question, only to veer off towards the man’s enemies. Headed to the court of King Kostis, Panagiotis offered him his rivals’ dominion in return for safe-passage back to their primordial lands, for the Taurlians. Laughing the King agreed, with the man having no great faith in him.

It under these circumstances that, Panagiotis at last left the isle of Kretia, for that of Valtir, where pirates had settled. With the half-god convincing them that Mihalis had invited them to his lands, before he departed to reunite with his mother, and their friends. In this manner, he guaranteed that the firsts to arrive were warriors. The pirates arrived at the appointed time, and place so that he guided the Minotaurs further south-east, before he had them arrange a great many sticks in the beach. Creating in this manner, the impression of a large army, whence spies of Kostis arrived to espy them, seized by despair his mood infected that of his subordinates who surrendered to Kostis. This being after they had suffered a great many casualties at the hands, of the pirates who had been driven off, from the coast of Kretia.

Amazed, when he hardly encountered any resistance, from Mihalis, Kostis overtook his rival’s lands in a matter of days, as Mihalis had fallen upon his own sword. Kostis swore to give Panagiotis a boon, of his choosing. To which, the half-god requested a proper row-boat, so as to pursue the pirates. Perplexed, the King granted it to him, and watched as he out-rowed the pirates to their home, and burnt their homes to the ground, and stole their treasury, before he burnt their boats and rowed back to Kretia.

This was the first of Panagiotis’s adventures; afterwards as his mother wed King Kostis, he left her in a contented state, never to return to her, on his far-reaching adventures. It was he who afterwards, sought out the wyvern of the isle of Wythernos, three years after he had overthrown Mihalis. From there, he reached the land of the Laconicians, whereupon he wrestled the first King of that land, before he saved the locals from a great behemoth that had devoured six of their Kings. Tricking it, with the corpse of the uncle of the current King, Aniketos, the hero lured it out from the caverns of Mt-Wyvernia, and slew it with a trident given to him, by his father. A father, he then sought to please, when he was advised to seek out Zerapus who had by then, come to live near Minevra.

The first was the great-Centaur wise-man who was himself later mentored, by wise Chiron before he established himself as stated near Minevra where Zerapus had developed, with the two agreeing to teach the son of Poseidon.

Ten years later, full of these new teachings both in philosophy and as a hero, Zerapus was to venture whither against the goddess Astrild. It was there before the gates that he issued out his challenge, and defied her to come out in the name of his father, the god Poseidon. Mightiest among the sons of Poseidon and mightiest among the greatest of warriors of that age, he had had a great trident forged in honour of his father. This weapon he held up high above his head, proud of the Dwarf-steel blade his friend Iaxon the Dwarf had forged for him.

The Dwarf had warned him though, not to go on this quest so soon, however Poseidon had insisted at which time the Dwarf had argued and been duly ignored. So that now, Zerapus stood before the gates, tall and strong with his long dark mane, and armour depicting the great deeds of his ancestors, and his horse-haired helm.

To the goddess he issued his stern challenge, and she had her gates opened that he might tread inside. This he did, and was swallowed up by the darkness therein, whereupon he was never again seen by any living eyes. He fought against some of the goddess’ minions this much was known however all that was seen again of his person was his hand which still held tightly onto the large broken trident.

In his grief Poseidon blamed Iaxon who cast blame upon the sea-god, saying to him when he appeared before him in his full glory by the sea, near the southern bay near the city of Minevra. “It was you god of the seas, who led my dearest of friends astray! He was far, far in a way too young. He ought to have been here, by the side of his friend, and fought against those other than the goddess who has brought untold misery to this place. For this I curse thee O god of the seas, to be unmanned, to be usurped and thy throne and wife torn from thee and for her to find joy with another!”

This great curse cost Iaxon his life, swept up by the tide he was never seen again. His son, the greatest of the smiths after him, was made to smith for Poseidon and for the others of his son. Zenen was his name and he was to toil for many years in the temple of Poseidon thereupon the isle of Nepturia, where there was a great temple and where Zenen washed ashore.

The spirit of Zerapus was not to die with him. His great defiance of the goddess, was to be seen as an inspiration to a great many other heroes and warriors throughout the land of Doria. It was to be from the loins of a lady by the name of Alceira, a princess of Kharinth who caught the eye of Apollo that the next great hero arose.

It was in this spirit; of heroism and courage that noble Neofytus, the finest hero of the Kingdom of Minevra and Vóreileios journeyed north, to defy the dark goddess. Unaware that, she was a dark-goddess due in no small part, to his own impatience, as he armed with the trident given by his father and armour forged by Hephaestus. Unfortunately for him, the goddess was awake in the night, rather than the day, so that she was prepared and upon his arrival at her gates, she sent down to him, a Cyclops to fight him. The great one-eye crushed the hero, with a single swipe of his mighty-club (also forged by Hephaestus, and stolen from Hades’s treasury). The Cyclops was named Pelatios, and was renowned as her lieutenant amongst Cyclopsii.

Infuriated, Poseidon had Apollo’s son, by Delia steal into the fortress in the day, wherefore he attempted to steal the necklace of the goddess in her sleep. Awakened when the lad climbed up her throne, and grasped the gemstone, which he burnt his fingers upon; she was filled with such wroth, as to shake all the continent of Agenor. Frightened, the hero’s son attempted to slash at her throat, with his knife breaking upon her flesh, whilst she seized him in a single giant hand.

Afraid, Neofytus, was given a seat before a Cronusinga Stone, she had taken from Erebus and cursed his family, with him cursed to watch their breaking and ultimate destruction.

The first thing to turn afoul, was Zinovia betraying her children to consort with Ylannis, Neofytus’s stepfather’s rival. Whereupon, she mothered his heir, even as she betrayed her own with Neofytus, who were chased from the city of Minevra. The heir of the half-god had always held his two brothers and wife above all others, with the middle brother to escape to Minevra.

The next great tragedy struck Neofytus’ second-born Zethus who was when still young imprisoned in Minevra when he sought to steal the kingdom’s most prized treasure, only to be caught and thrown onto a nearby isle, where the kings kept their most hated criminals.

Still young, Tryfon heir of Neofytus joined his fate with that of King Mikalos of Cadmus, after rescuing the King’s daughter from a great Cyclops, Denalius. Slaying the monstrous giant, thanks to a sword given to him, by his father, he was then wed to the princess. Tryfon for his part became enamoured, with his good-mother though, this in spite of the beauty of his wife, whereupon he in the tenth year since his arrival, in Cadmus, sought her out in secret. Violating her, he was to be hunted down by her husband, who took umbrage with Tryfon’s gross crime against his family.

As to Zethus’s fate after he escaped Minevra, he raised his eldest brother’s children as his own. A faithful, and honourable man unlike Tryfon, such was the charitable nature of his character after his imprisonment that Thalia came to fancy him. When he rejected her though, claiming, “You, who are my brother’s widow, are forbidden from marriage to myself, his brother.”

Angered and humiliated by this, she turned upon him and seeking her children in secret, when he was absent from the palace on a hunt. Telling them, of how their uncle had sought to violate her, she encouraged them to take up knives, against their uncle. Barely fourteen, thirteen and eleven years old respectively, the children on the thirtieth anniversary day of Neofytus’s birth, drew their knives from the high-table of the King, in order to stab him. Slain, by the children, Zethus was to bear witness as his mistress Llaria traded her life, for their daughter. Just before his life left him, the love of his life had in turn her throat slit.

Enslaved, Zethus’s daughter Timothea was time and again humiliated, by her mean-natured cousins. What none expected was for Dinwe Greenforger, to enter into the lands of Cadmus in search of the Stjárgamen at this time.

He had crossed the wide seas to the north of Doria, and had entered into the lands of Aechea and Doria, after more than several months. Upon entry into the lands of Doria, he was to move from Kingdom to Kingdom in search of the Stjárgamen, keen to destroy it as his forebears ought to have done. An heir to the new royal house, it was his view that his grandsire Aubälion ought to have destroyed the gemstone.

Determined as he was to see it at last destroyed, he had lost his wife in the terrible wars that had been the ruin of the Dwarven Empire, and seen the Ogres driven west across the desert to the north. In this way none were more dedicated than he to the pursuit of the gemstone, and its destruction and accompanied only by his eldest son, Finwan, he was to arrive within the realm of Cadmus.

Concerned when he heard of the division within the ruling house, he made discreet inquiries and was disturbed to learn of the curse that was said to have been cast upon the house. Told of it one night when Neofytus son of Tryfon and Lichus the lover of Thalia, wife of Tryfon went out carousing, the two of them becoming so drunk they spoke glibly of the curse, though Finwan was a stranger.

“A curse, I should think that it might prove best to exorcise such a thing, by way of compassion and forgiveness, beginning by accepting the lady Timothea as kin rather than rejecting her as one would an enemy.” Finwan wisely counselled them, sorrowful and full of pity for these men who had the same impetuous obsession with the Stjárgamen that had wrought such ruin upon the Elves and Dwarves.

His words were not only to spark a great deal of rage in the two men, but to inspire in them a greater propensity for cruelty towards Timothea. It was not long before she was cast out from where she slept in the kitchens, and down into the dog-kennels.

Cursing her lot, it happened that the young woman was to grow up bitter and yet terribly timid, so that she was when the time came to wed her off, the family favoured one of their household servants. A man by the name of Katrios, a youth with nary any courage or great deeds to his name, and who was vindictive and cruel, and who had initially repulsed Timothea a great deal. Yet shortly after their marriage she was to give birth to a daughter, one who was to prove a great warrior, her name was Ocyale.

Strong and fierce, she was born so due to how Katrios who had always revered Ares prayed for a son who might otherwise honour the war-god. Though, he could not influence the birth of a child, he did however give his blessings to her and gift her father with a spear. This he did whilst her mother’s kinsmen were out on the hunt, arriving with a great clap of thunder and amidst dark-clouds. The men-folk sought refuge in a cavern with their servants and mother, all while Timothea’s husband gave thanks to the war-god.

“Take this and put it to use, yet know that if it is not drenched in blood ere the next full-moon it shall tear asunder thy lives.” He told them in his great cavernous voice, eyes scarlet and full of scorn for them even as he offered a drop of ambrosia in utter defiance to the laws and decrees of his father and the rest of Olympos. “This shall invigorate her, when the time comes she shall wield this spear of mine for vengeance and hatred of others, and you shalt name thy daughter Ocyale, and gift her to my service when the time arises.”

This they swore, with Katrios the most frightened of the two parents, while Timothea rejoiced at the vengeance she was certain would soon be hers.

It was for this reason that she was to call upon her husband three days after she had given birth and received the blessing of Ares, to go out and search for her kinsmen. “Go out whither into the woods, hunt them as one would a boar and return their heads to me, my husband.”

Katrios though cruel, and though he truly did love his wife by this time and wished to obey her even as he feared Ares, hesitated. He did not simply do so out of goodness, but out of genuine doubt of his own ability to overcome the likes of Neofytus’ grandsons.

“Are you a man or a mouse? Do you wish the spear turned upon thy daughter? Or would you have me wield the spear in spite of not having recovered from begetting thy daughter?” Timothea snapped furiously.

Her husband was to depart not long thereafter.

What he accomplished that night is rarely spoken of, so dreadful was the blood-letting he let loose upon the house of Tryfon. First he came upon the daughters of the house, slaying them in a great and terrible act that shamed his wife a great deal, when she discovered it. Then he began the murder of the sons’ of Tryfon and was to eradicate all but one; the youngest, Neptolemus escaped into the wilderness throwing his weapons away and making for the great foothills to the north. It was there that he sought refuge in the hope of a woodcutter and his wife.

When the suns’ arose the next day, it was to a corpse-filled forest, and to a pile of three heads deposited before the great house of Tryfon, before the Lady Timothea. Her husband also came hither with the Lady Thalia in chains.

It was when she saw the heads that Timothea was filled with shame, her bitterness departed and she wept. Regretful for her previous cruelty, she realized then how far she had truly fallen and that there could be no turning back, so that she agreed with her husband to usurp the throne and the imprisonment of her aunt.

The crown thus smoothly passed from the line of Tryfon to that of Zethus. The failure on their part to terminate the line of Tryfon however served to only enrage Ares, so that he transferred his favour to the opposite line.

It was he who was coax her relative to the north from his hiding place, and encourage him to prepare himself for vengeance and he who it was who introduced Neoptolemus to the lady Aria. The same Lady Aria who was daughter of the King of Illyvria, and the granddaughter through her mother of Zeus, from one of his many liaisons, and though Neoptolemus lacked for courage it happened that his son would not.