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Xena: Warrior Princess
Aug 10th, 2006 at 4:40am
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Apocalypse...
Again


Part One:  The Second Coming
by
Morgan McClure


Disclaimers


This work is based on characters and situations from Xena: Warrior Princess that are copyrighted by MCA/Universal Studios and their use in this work is in no way intended to infringe on those rights. Antares, Messenger and Champion of Gaea is my original creation and I retain all rights to her.

This work contains sex and violence comparable to what appeared in the series Xena: Warrior Princess.  However, certain assumptions are refuted and toes no doubt will be stepped on.  Be warned.  In addition, the Goddess Eris, Goddess of Strife and Discord appears in a role that is not entirely accurate mythologically.  I ask the followers of this Goddess to indulge me for the sake of the story. Likewise, the generally unfavorable depiction of "Eli's God" is in keeping with the original series.  No disrespect is intended.   

Dedication:

Kevin (Ares) Smith
March 16, 1963 - February 16, 2002
May Gaea bless and keep him. 
Cliché as it sounds: “Thanks for the memories.”

Chapter 1

2109 BCE

     There was no peace in Heaven.  The normally serene skies were filled with storm clouds and thunder rumbled in the distance.  The Archangel Michael mantled his wings like a bird of prey as he confronted the figure in front of him, his handsome face contorted in most unangelic fury.
     “I forbid it!”
     The object of his ire regarded him calmly.  The shrouded figure was female, that much was certain, but no other details were visible.  The dark blue robe covered her from her ankles to the top of her head, her face hidden in the depths of her hood.  Only her hands, slender and strong, were easily visible.
     “You.  Forbid?” Her tone was as cold and dry as the air that swirled around them.  “I was unaware that your job description included giving me orders.”  Her voice hardened.  “The Great Mother has given the order.  I will carry it out.  The Power you serve has neither the authority nor the will to countermand that order.”
     “I will stop you!”  Michael roared into the rising wind.
     The woman laughed.  “You and what deity?” 
     Before Michael could reply, the sky turned black.  They both looked up as a whirlpool formed in the sky.
     “Let’s see what you’ve got,”  she murmured to the sky.  It answered with lightning that fell like rain, striking the place where she stood again and again.  The force of the strikes drove Michael back to a safe distance.
     “Great is your power, my Lord!” He bellowed to the heavens and laughed.  The lightning stopped and Michael the Archangel choked on his laughter.
     The woman stood unscathed on a circle of blasted rock.  In her left hand she held a ball of brilliant, seething energy the size of a human head.  Horrified, Michael realized that she held the lightning that had struck her.  She looked to the sky.
     “Is that all you’ve got?” Her contempt obvious, she addressed the energy in her hand.  “Return to sender,” she commanded.  “Times three!”  Obedient to her will, the captured energy left her hand at lightning speed.   It flashed upward through the center of the whirlpool and disappeared.  A second passed.  Two.  Then the flash and the thunder.  And in the thunder, a howl of pain.  The shock wave knocked Michael to his knees.  He raised tearing eyes and recoiled. The woman stood, cool and unconcerned, watching the whirlpool disappear and the sky clear.
     “What have you done?” 
     “I’ve reminded your Lord of the rules by which we operate.”  She turned from the sky to regard the Archangel. “Now, where were we?” Michael got to his feet, defiant.  “Oh yes,” she continued.  “The Great Mother was willing to overlook your obsession with Xena until it interfered with your duties.  After all, you’re hardly the first immortal to have the hots for her.” 
     “ I do not...” Michael roared, which seemed the only tone of which he was capable.  She found it tiresome.
     “Silence!” she snapped.  “Save your explanations for Her.  She is aware that you tried to murder Aphrodite instead of rescuing her as She ordered you to do. She is aware that the Power you serve removed Xena’s belief that she could kill Gods just when she needed it most.  She is aware that you, under that Power’s orders, tricked Xena into remaining dead when the manner and circumstances of her death were more than sufficient atonement for her crime.  She is not happy and She will be along presently to speak to you and Him about it.” 
     “My God...”  The woman gestured and the words stopped in Michael’s throat.  His masculine posturing was getting on her nerves.
     “Your god is manipulative, petulant, vindictive and spoiled.  He uses people ... and angels ... until they displease Him, then He discards them like broken toys.  He has no honor and no loyalty.  You have both forgotten who you ultimately serve.”  She noticed Michael turning an interesting shade of purple and released his voice.  He used it.
     “You have no authority to speak to me in this manner.  I have been alive since the Beginning!”
     “Check your organizational chart, wingboy,” she replied flippantly, having decided to get what amusement she could from his outrage while she could.  The coming days promised to be devoid of such rich opportunities.  “I may be considerably younger than you but I outrank you by a bunch.”  She stepped up to him and for the first time, he could look down and see her eyes.  He looked and was afraid.  She saw his fear but gave him no relief.  “Your God overstepped His authority when he tricked the Olympians into believing that Xena was a threat to them.  Then, He used Xena to murder them, hoping that she would take the blame and He would be able to escape the consequences and step into the power vacuum He created.  Trouble is, it isn’t His turn on the Wheel of Time.  He doesn’t have the power or the right to this time and place.  The power vacuum He created is going to be filled, all right, but not by Him and He hasn’t a prayer in Hell of stopping what’s coming.  Xena is the only hope we have and it may already be too late!”  She turned from him and stepped away, preparing to leave. “Good bye, Archangel.  I go to undo what you have done.  May the Divine Source grant that I am in time.”
     “You can’t use a resurrection spell on ashes!  I made sure that Gabrielle cremated her!”  Michael laughed.  “There is no way to bring that defiant bitch back!”
     She turned slightly, looking back over her shoulder at the outraged, impotent Archangel.  He really looked like nothing so much as a small boy, caught in his misdeeds and facing punishment, indulging in one last defiant outburst.  She could almost feel sorry for him.  Almost.  She lifted her head and listened.  She could feel the approach of the Great Mother.  Time to go. 
     “Is that so?” she laughed.  “Who says I’m going to use a spell?”  Still laughing, she pirouetted in place and was gone.
« Last Edit: Aug 10th, 2006 at 4:48am by Penthesilea »  

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Re: Xena: Warrior Princess
Reply #1 - Aug 10th, 2006 at 4:43am
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The Messenger of Gaea appeared in a flash of light in a deserted glen lit by the setting sun and sat down abruptly as Gaea reclaimed the power that She had loaned her Messenger.  No mortal, even one as formidable as Gaea’s Messenger, could face down an Archangel and the God of Eli without some divine assistance.  The Messenger did the sensible thing and flopped flat on her back as the energy left her and her own energy systems worked toward balance.   When she felt normal but ravenous she sat up and turned her mind to food.  Fortunately, she had planned ahead.  This wasn’t the first time that she had channeled Goddess-energy through her body.  She reached under her robe and pulled out a small pouch which she placed on the ground in front of her.  Then she pressed her thumb firmly on a plastic tab that protruded from one side.  Instantly, the pouch began to expand, becoming a nice sized statis storage unit in a matter of a few seconds.  Smiling happily, she unzipped the lid and pulled out a roast beef sub sandwich from her favorite late 20th - early 21st century sandwich shop.  She had made sure to pick it up when tomatoes were in season.  She hated what passed for tomatoes the rest of the year!
A large, icy cold bottle of Coke and a large order of curly fries followed and she settled down with her back against a comfortable tree to enjoy her picnic.  She ate slowly, savoring every bite.  This would be the last such meal for a while.  Maybe forever. 
     She finished the sandwich and fries and stowed the fry box and the wrapper in the statis unit and pulled out dessert - butter pecan ice cream.  Once the ice cream had followed the rest of the meal, she was feeling normal and ready to get back to work.  The empty ice cream carton went back in the unit and and a number of other nonfood items came out and were stowed in the black utility vest that she was wearing under the robe.  Then, she took the last swallow from the plastic Coke bottle, put it with the rest of the trash and activated the self-destruct.  The statis unit and everything in it disappeared, leaving behind no evidence of a 21th century meal.
     The Messenger flipped open a hidden lid on her cuff  bracelet and made a small adjustment to her robe.  Obediently, it changed color from blue to a light brown.  Satisfied, she set off down the trail toward her next destination.  She did not have far to go, which was fortunate since she was on foot.   She would have to acquire a horse for the next stage of her journey.   First things first, though: Xena’s resurrection.

     Gabrielle regarded the small walled town’s open gate with relief.  It had been a hard, hot uphill hike from the cove where she had been put  ashore to this, the first stop on her return to Greek territory.  She wanted a bath, fresh food and a bed that didn’t move, in that order and as soon as possible.  Weeks of sleeping aboard had left her vaguely unrested and the monotony of ship food left her stomach uneasy although she had finally reached the point where she no longer got seasick at the slightest provocation.  And, of course, Xena wasn’t there.  She hadn’t realized how accustomed she had become to the sound and presence of her friend while she slept until she tried sleeping without it.  Of course, Xena was still there, in the sense that she had, with her typical contrariness, refused to move on to wherever afterlife awaited her.  Xena refused to speak about her reasons - also typical -  and Gabrielle wasn’t wasting energy worrying about it.  She’d find out soon enough.  She hitched her pack up on her shoulders and walked into the town.
     Up on a ridge overlooking the town, the Messenger of Gaea watched Gabrielle walk through the gate and head straight for the town’s only inn.  If the town had  been larger or if it had been harvest or market day or even one of the many festivals in the Greek religious calendar, the Messenger would have followed her in and saved herself some exertion.  Unfortunately, there weren’t enough strangers around to hide among and she didn’t want to risk Gabrielle, or Xena for that matter, seeing her and recognizing her later.  The Messenger put her binoculars back into her pocket and began to case the town’s defenses.  Getting in wouldn’t normally be a problem for a woman trained as both Amazon and Ninja but the moon was nearing full and the town fathers kept the forest, and the concealment it provided well away from the walls.  There would be a wide swath of open ground to cross before she scaled the wall. 
     And don’t forget the guards, she reminded herself.  The Messenger was a warrior, Gaea’s Champion in the absence of a Son of Her own Blood, but she refused to kill unless she had to, a sentiment that Gaea supported. Gaea was a Mother Herself  and She heard the grief of mothers whose sons were slain.  She turned her face to the sun and judged that it would be an hour before the sun set and another after that before it was dark enough to attempt the wall and there was also the amount of activity in the town to take into account as well.  The Messenger sighed and went to work.
     The innkeeper remembered Gabrielle from the last time she and Xena had passed through.  She had managed to answer his inquiry about her companion without bursting into tears - the fact that Xena, in spirit form, was standing right next to her helped.  She climbed the stairs to the second floor room she’d been given.  Inside, she shed her pack with a sigh and tensed and relaxed her shoulders few times to loosen them.
     “You’ll feel better after a hot bath,” Xena said, watching her from the window.  She looked as solid as she had in life but Gabrielle already knew that if someone else was in the room, that person would neither see or hear the Warrior Princess.
     “A hot bath with fresh water and,” she paused for effect, “clean clothes!”  Without further ado, Gabrielle pulled the last of her nearly clean clothes out of her pack and stuffed all the rest into a sack she kept for the purpose.  She knew from her last visit here that soap and towels were provided by the bathhouse and that a laundry operated in the same building.  She set aside her laundry long enough to unpack the small urn that held Xena’s ashes and set it safely on the room’s small table.  Then, with the ghostly Warrior Princess in tow, Gabrielle headed for the bathhouse.

     The Messenger of Gaea was not a happy woman.  She frowned.  She twisted a strand of her salt and paprika hair restlessly.  It was nearly sundown and she’d yet to find a way to reach the town wall unseen. She’d watched Gabrielle and Xena leave the inn and cross to the bathhouse and laundry.  Xena was looking good for a spirit - death must agree with her - but it was disconcerting to watch unsuspecting townspeople walk through her.  That wouldn’t last long.  One way or another, Xena would be “reimbodied” by midnight, even if the Messenger had to stage a frontal assault on the gate!  The Messenger sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position on the tree limb she occupied.  From her vantage point thirty feet up in a tree, she had a commanding view of the town and the surrounding countryside.  She left off her observation of the town for a moment and scanned earth and sky for inspiration.  All she needed was a few moments of darkness to cross to the wall.  The moon would rise tonight before sunset, it was already beginning to peek up over the eastern horizon, and it would provide enough light to make spotting her easy.  If she waited until the moon was westerly enough to provide covering shadows, Gabrielle would be asleep in her room with a spirit Xena no doubt keeping watch.  Not the sort of situation that a sneaky Amazon Ninja wished to walk into! There was no alternative. She had to make her move after dark while Gabrielle was out of the room.  Idly, her gaze drifted to the mountains in the distance, their tops wreathed in clouds.  Clouds?  Clouds!  The Messenger snapped to attention. She had inspiration!  She had a plan!  She had better get her attractive butt on the ground and get to work!  Thought was action.  She took a firm grip on her belt buckle and rolled off the branch.  She dropped, but not as fast as one would normally expect and she landed gently and without a sound.  She did a quick check on the grav-belt’s power supply.  Not much left.  It didn’t matter.  She shouldn’t need it to get over the wall.  She’d keep it in reserve, just in case.  She checked the setting sun.  It was going down fast.  She headed into the woods, in search of a suitable spot.
 
     
  

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Re: Xena: Warrior Princess
Reply #2 - Aug 10th, 2006 at 4:47am
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It didn’t take long to find one, a small clearing not too far from the town and just off the path.  She took a moment to feel the energy of the place and smiled.  Aphrodite had been worshipped here, often and vigorously.  It was lucky that it wasn’t being used for that purpose presently.  The followers of Eli’s God didn’t have much use for physical love, believing that it detracted from their devotion to their God.  A rather shortsighted God who didn’t approve of fun in any form, especially that sort of fun. The fact that His disapproval of sex, if universally adhered to, would result in the extinction of the human race was of no consequence to Him.  Only obedience to His Word mattered.  Fortunately for the continuation of the human race, Aphrodite’s influence was bred into the blood and bones of every living thing and the urge to indulge in an energetic tussle in the woods, which could perhaps result in new life, could not and would not be denied forever.  The Messenger indulged for a moment or two in the lusty joy that permeated the place and then settled down to work. 
     She sat in the middle of the clearing and visualized a circle of energy running around the outer edge of it.  Divine meddling by Eli’s God had made it nearly impossible for a mortal to work effective magic.  It was still possible, otherwise the miracles He used to win followers wouldn’t happen, but for those working outside His purview, it was hard, slow and unreliable.  The Messenger was most definitely outside His purview but, for her, magic was easy, fast and reliable as the sunrise.  Such were the benefits of being Gaea’s Messenger.  She spent a few moments defining the purpose of the spell.  Then she reached out with her mind and gathered in the abundant energy around her into a compact ball.  Then she reached for the distant clouds and linked them to the energy ball.  She felt/heard a tiny pop as the spell worked.  She smiled, dropped her protective circle and settled down to wait.

     Gabrielle leaned back against the back of the single occupancy wooden bathtub and sighed.  Hot, fresh water.  Soft, sweet smelling soap.  No keeping watch for gawking sailors.  Feeling really, really clean for the first time in months.  It simply didn’t get any better than that.  This was her third tubful of water.  The first two had been for cleaning off the ocean voyage that had brought her here.  This one was for soaking, relaxing, enjoying.  A throaty chuckle made her open her eyes and look toward the foot of the tub.  Xena sat on the edge of the tub, trailing immaterial fingers in the water.
     “What’s funny?” Gabrielle asked, quietly, lest she be overheard talking to herself.
     “The blissful expression on your face.  I haven’t seen it in a while.”
     “It’s been a while since I had a bath this good.  Mountain lakes are fine for getting clean but for pure, unadulterated luxury, give me a hot bath in civilized surroundings.”
     “This village is hardly the apex of civilization.”
     “It’s close enough.” Gabrielle considered.  “Besides, I never really cared for the Roman Baths.  Plenty of water, soap and towels but too many onlookers and spies.”
     Xena grinned.  Gabrielle still found being naked in the presence of strangers unnerving.  “Since you are presently occupied, I thought I’d scout ahead, maybe find out where Eve has landed this time.”
     “Go ahead.  I hope she’s stopped long enough for us to catch up with her.  We’ve been a week behind her since she left India.”
     “I know.  If she could see me, I could have told her to wait for us.  Unfortunately, you seem to be the only person who can.”
     “I wonder why that is.  You’d think your daughter would be able to see you.”
     “Eve and I have never had a chance to be close.  She was a baby when you and I were frozen and we were together only a few months, at most, before she went to India and then...” Xena let the thought trail off unspoken.
     Gabrielle wouldn’t let the thought go.  “You died.  To pay for a stupid mistake.   Then you remained dead to satisfy some twisted idea of vengeance and honor!  Your death supposedly freed ten thousand innocent souls to pass to the Afterlife.  What kind of deity would hold even one innocent soul hostage?” Xena didn’t react to Gabrielle’s vehemence.  “No god I would honor, that’s for sure!”
     “We’ve had this argument before, Gabrielle.  I won’t go over it again.  Even if I were having second thoughts, it is too late.  I’m dead and that’s that.” Xena looked off into the distance, through the wall, to where Eve likely was.  “I’ll be back soon.”  She faded to transparency and was gone. Gabrielle resumed her soak, no longer as happy has she had been.
  

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Re: Xena: Warrior Princess
Reply #3 - Aug 10th, 2006 at 4:50am
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     Xena rematerialized some three days’ ride from her previous location.  Sure enough, she found Eve settling in for an evening’s teaching of the ways of Eli. The villagers sat rapt, giving her their full, adoring attention.  Xena watched her daughter with ill concealed pride.  Eve was going to change the world and she, Xena, had made it possible.  She would go down in history as the mother of Eve, Eli’s Messenger, and not as a bloody handed murderer.  Xena, Warrior Princess, Slayer of Gods, would be honored forever.  The fact that the hero, Hercules, had been forced to kill his own father to protect her and had wandered the world in anguish for years afterward would be forgotten.  The fact that her mother had suffered insanity and a horrible death because of her would be forgotten.   Joxer, loyal to the last, dying in her arms after Eve put him to the sword, would be forgotten.  The Amazons that she and Gabrielle had led to their deaths would be forgotten.  The long list of the dead, the betrayed and the abandoned would be forgotten.  Only Xena and her companion, Gabrielle, would be remembered. 
     Xena frowned at the turn her thoughts had taken.  She had never been one to obsess over a decision, either in making it or afterward.  She was seldom wrong.  Events had proved that, time and again, and if she did miscalculate or fail to anticipate an opponent’s move, she always had a solution at the tip of her fingers.  Xena shook her head to banish the intrusive, unwanted thoughts.   She, Xena, was right!  Every decision she had made was the right one.  She knew what was best, for herself, for Eve, for Gabrielle, for everyone!  Eve was the proof that Xena was never wrong!
     And where is Solan now that Hades is dead?  The niggling thought squirmed through her brain like a malignant worm.
     “Solan is safe!”  Xena cried into the uncaring air.  The people in the room neither saw nor heard her.
     Is he?   
     Determined to ignore the disturbing thought, Xena turned her attention to Eve and the night’s lesson.
  

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Re: Xena: Warrior Princess
Reply #4 - Aug 10th, 2006 at 7:21pm
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Far to the north of the village where Eve taught, Ares ran. The hills and valleys of Thrace were among the Wargod’s favorite places on Earth and it was to them that Ares came when the oppressive silence of the deserted Olympus became too much to bear.  Inactivity plagued him as well.  The Pax Roma, the Roman Peace, was taking hold, leaving very little in the way of work for a God of War.  So, with inactivity and memories gnawing at his soul, Ares had fled the silent halls of Olympus to run.  He was also hungry and rather that simply producing what he wanted by magic, he would hunt. During his rather lengthy stint as a mortal, he had developed an appreciation for the mortal condition which he was only beginning to recognize.  The satisfaction of preparing his own food, especially when the result was edible, was one of the the first he recognized.  The value of fatigue when reality was too much to bear had also become quickly evident.  So Ares revived a long neglected practice of his, he put limits on his power.  With his powers cut back to a demigod’s level, he stripped himself naked in the manner of traditional Greek athletes and week after week, he trained.  He lifted weights until his muscles screamed. He trained with sword and staff and spear alone and with opponents he sought out.  And he ran.  And at night, exhausted, he slept deeply and without dreams.  It was good.
     Ares paused in this headlong run, his attention caught by something on the trail.  He crouched to examine the thing that had caught his attention.  A fierce grin lit his handsome face.  It was the track of a wild pig, a large one to judge from the depth of the track.  Roast pork sounded good.  Taking on several hundred pounds of enraged pig barehanded was even better.  Artemis had never done that, she preferred to kill from a distance.  At one time Hercules could have done it but as far as Ares knew, he never had.  Ares rose easily from his crouch, a vision of grace and power carved of bone and muscle, and followed the trail his quarry had left.
  

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Re: Xena: Warrior Princess
Reply #5 - Aug 10th, 2006 at 7:23pm
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As he ran, Ares planned his attack.  Killing a bull barehanded was easy if you had sufficient strength.  You simply braced yourself, grabbed the horns and broke the neck before the beast would lift you off your feet, throw you to the ground and gore and trample you to death.  Pigs had no such convenient handles and they were, like gods and mortals, omnivores.  Which meant that anything  under their snouts got eaten.  Ending his immortal existence as pigfood did not appeal to Ares in the slightest.  Breaking its neck, he decided, was the best course.  How to do it, though, that was the problem.
     Given the expected size of his prey, Ares decided that getting on its back and breaking its neck from behind offered the best chance of a clean kill and minimal damage to himself.  Ares’ time as a mortal had given him a healthy appreciation for pain and he had no desire to deepen that appreciation.  That decided, he knew that he needed to get above his prey and to do that, conveniently, he needed to get ahead of the pig and to take a position on a high ledge or in a tree.  Then all he had to do was drop onto the pig’s back, get a solid grip on its neck and snap!  Pork for dinner.
     Ares stopped to check the freshness of the track.  It was fresh, very fresh, and he scanned the surrounding brush quickly.  The possibility that the pig was now stalking him was foremost in his mind.  He had no illusions about the intelligence of pigs.  They were.  Very.  Slowly, he rose from his crouch, straining for any sound that would give him a clue as to  his quarry’s whereabouts.  The  forest was silent, even the birds were still.
     “This is not good,” the god muttered to himself.  How “not good” was made plain seconds later when, with a piercing squeal of rage, the boar charged out of the brush behind him.  Ares dove to one side, tucking into a roll and coming up facing his foe, a long bloody gash marring the muscled perfection of his right leg.  Ares didn’t feel a thing. The pig skidded to a stop and, snorting and squealing, pivoted toward Ares and charged.  Ares leaped, twisting in the air, and the pig passed beneath him. Ares came down behind the boar that, for a few precious seconds, faced away from him.  Ares leaped toward the pig.
     “Gotcha!”  Ares exulted ... and landed flat on his face in the dirt as the boar twisted aside.  Adrenaline pumping, Ares rolled and barely missed being trampled as the enraged boar tore up the ground where he’d landed.  Ares came up as the boar charged and, again, he dove aside, rolled and found himself in front of a large tree.  He glanced up and spotted a branch low enough to reach and stout enough to support two hundred plus pounds of hard pressed god.  Ares glanced back down.  Incoming pig.  Closing fast.  Ares leaped, straight up, grabbed the limb twelve feet above his head and swung himself up into a handstand just as the boar collided with the tree.  Ares saw his chance.  He pushed off from the handstand, twisted in the air and dropped to land solidly astride the boar’s neck.  Howling with rage and pain, Ares grabbed the boar’s ears as he locked his legs around the animal’s throat and squeezed.
     It was a wild ride.  The boar refused to die and it charged through the brush trying to scrape off the maddening thing on its back.  When that didn’t work, it flung itself down and rolled.  Grimly, Ares hung on, knowing that if he lost his grip the pig would have him.  He ignored the pain and the fatigue and squeezed harder.  Finally, after an eternity, he had the grip and the leverage.  He twisted his body, concentrating his power into his legs and was rewarded with a loud satisfying crack.  With a final snort, the boar toppled over, pinning Ares’ wounded leg under its massive bulk.  Naturally.
     Muttering divine invective under his breath, Ares pulled himself free of the carcass.  Then he quietly said the three words in the Old Speech that unlocked his divine powers.  He used his power to discreetly seal the gash on his leg but left the rest of his scrapes, cuts and bruises, as well as the sweat, blood and dirt that he’s collected, untouched for the moment.  He was being watched and until he knew for sure who it was, he would keep his godhood to himself.
  

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Re: Xena: Warrior Princess
Reply #6 - Aug 10th, 2006 at 7:25pm
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Hidden in the bushes some fifty feet from where Ares’ quarry had fallen, the woods nymph Panphila and her sisters Amarande and Tyro watched the hero. He had to be a hero or maybe a demigod (!) as he stretched and flexed his magnificent body, presumably to check for injuries.  First, he rotated his head, stretching his neck, then his shoulders.  After rotating his shoulders, flexing his back, chest and arms, he moved to his legs.  The nymphs were transfixed by his display and consequently, were not as quiet as they should have been.
     Ares smiled to himself as he knelt beside his kill and discreetly cast the small spell that would preserve the unbled carcass until he could tend to it.  He’d spotted the nymphs in the bushes and intended to invite them to a pig roast. But first, he had decided that they’d engage in some brisk, vigorous exercise.  In one smooth movement, he came to his feet, vaulted the carcass and charged, full speed, toward the nymphs who, as he had expected, exploded out of cover like a covey of birds.  Each fled in a different direction.  Two were blondes, the third had black hair.  Ares  followed her.
     Nymphs were fast and impossible for a mortal man to catch. Even a demigod could be hard pressed to catch one if she didn’t want to be caught.  Gods had no such problems.  Ares stayed close enough to deep her running with no opportunity to hide.  When they broke into a beautiful glade equipped with a running stream and a deep pool, Ares made his move.  Between one stride and the next, Ares vanished.  The nymph glanced back over her shoulder fully expecting to see her pursuer behind her.  When she didn’t see him, she slowed and then stopped.
     Ares appeared right in front of her.  With a squeal of fright, she tried to bolt but he grabbed her before she could take a step.  With his left arm holding her against him, he pressed his right hand against the base of her spine and fed energy directly into her nervous system.
     There was a reason why Zeus had always been so successful with women even though everyone knew what Hera did to his lovers.  God energy, the Divine Fire, fed directly into a mortal woman’s body at the base of her spine caused uncontrollable desire.  A semi divine creature, such as a nymph, was also susceptible.  Only a Goddess who, by her nature, possessed her own Divine Fire, could resist the advances of a God.  That was why they ran.  Why they were willing to be changed into streams, or reeds or trees if that was the only avenue of escape.
     Tyro had no wish to escape.
     “Who?” she gasped as Ares withdrew the Fire.  He had never used it to coerce a woman, it was a point of pride with him.  The Fire was for the enhancement of his partner’s pleasure, nothing more.
     “Ares,” he answered.  She threw her arms around his neck and he took her mouth in a kiss that burned like Divine Fire.              No more was said for a long time.  Much later, after the other two and joined them and each had received an ample share of Ares’ amorous attention two or three times (Ares lost count), they told him how, terrified after the fall of Olympus, their patron Pan had fled to the safety of an adjacent dimension.  They had been gathering flowers and teasing shepherds that day and had been left behind.  Ares kissed away their tears and promised to open the way that Pan had taken so that they could follow him.
     “Keep us with you, Lord Ares,’ they pleaded.
     “No,” Ares replied firmly.  “This world is changing and not for the better.  You will be happier and” he raised an admonishing finger to silence their protests, “safer in the world Pan has fled to.”
     “Can’t you protect us, Lord Ares?” Tyro asked quietly.
     Ares looked away to the horizon for a long moment before he answered.  “No, I can’t,”  he said quietly.  “I’m not sure that I can protect myself.”  That admission, that Ares, who had no equal in physical combat, was unsure of his ability to protect himself sobered the three nymphs.
     “It will be as you say, Lord Ares,” Tyro replied.
     “Will you come with us?” Amarande, the most timid of the three, asked.
     “No, little one,” Ares replied, gently lifting her chin and wiping away her tears.  “There are still those in this world who worship me and I will not abandon them.”
     “Unlike Pan,” Tyro said.  “We will go, my Lord, but I will not return to Pan.  I will wait for you.”
     “And I.”
     “And I.”
     Ares was touched and kissed each one in turn.  Then, with a wave of his hand, a luxurious pavilion appeared with a feast laid out on a long table.  The centerpiece was, not surprisingly, roast boar.      
     “I will open the door tomorrow at dawn.  Tonight, we will eat and drink and make love as if all eternity lay before us,” he proclaimed.
     And they did.

  

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Re: Xena: Warrior Princess
Reply #7 - Aug 10th, 2006 at 7:29pm
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The Messenger of Gaea crouched in a shadow and waited for the watchmen to pass.  She had entered the town undetected and was making her way across the rooftops to her destination, the inn on the far side of town.  The men moved on and so did she.
     In the common room of the tavern, Gabrielle sat at a small table  eating a solitary dinner of goat stew, fresh bread with soft cheese and a very passable house wine. It was plain fare but delicious in Gabrielle’s opinion since it was fresh.  The meat was in no way preserved, no salting or smoking, the bread had been baked that very day, the wine was not halfway to vinegar and the cheese was exactly right.  There were no words in the Greek language to express her thorough and complete satisfaction with her meal. 
     “I miss that.”
     Gabrielle looked at the ghost that occupied the seat across the table.
     “You miss goat stew?”  she asked quietly.
     “I miss eating,”  Xena replied. “ I don’t miss heartburn,” she continued after a moment.  “And I don’t miss bleeding every moon, or morning sickness or the whole miserable business of being pregnant.  I do miss riding and swimming and fishing, Gods!  I miss fishing and a hundred other things I won’t go into right now.”
     “Including, I assume, lusty males with lovemaking on their minds?”
     “Most definitely!  I have never understood why humans have to be in season all the time.”  Xena  frowned as she considered the injustice of it all. “What the world needs is a foolproof way to avoid pregnancy.”
     “Abstinence works.”
     “Besides that!” Xena snarled.  Gabrielle giggled, drawing
several strange looks from nearby patrons.  A couple moved away, trying to look casual and failing miserably.  “Don’t talk anymore,” Xena advised.  “We’re drawing too much attention.”  The ghost grinned.  “ I wouldn’t want you locked up in the local insane asylum.”  Since that idea had no appeal for Gabrielle either, she held her silence and went back to her meal while Xena kept her silent company.

     Silent as a ghost, the Messenger of Gaea crossed the town’s roof tops. Only once had a dog noticed her but he had laid back down to resume his nap at her command. Cats, being far superior to dogs, saw in her one of their own sort and watched her pass in silence before returning to their own affairs.  By the time she had reached the roof of the inn, the sounds of merriment were drifting through the air.  The source of the sounds was the common room of the inn which the owner had placed opposite the building housing his establishment’s sleeping quarters.  Gabrielle would have to cross a courtyard and climb two flights of stairs to reach her room once the alarm was given.  The Messenger had no doubts about an alarm.  Xena could not help but be aware when someone took it upon themselves to mess with her mortal remains. She wouldn’t be able to do anything about it being immaterial and all but Gabrielle was definitely material and while the Messenger could take her without breaking a sweat, she preferred not to do so until it served a purpose.  Her plan was simple: grab the ashes, run like hell and get over the wall intact.  Aware of time’s passing, she headed for the window.

  

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Re: Xena: Warrior Princess
Reply #8 - Aug 10th, 2006 at 7:32pm
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In the common room, the party was preceding nicely.  Gabrielle and another bard had been engaged in a competition of storytelling that was edging toward epic.  The fact that she had a nearly unlimited supply of “Xena, the Warrior Princess” stories that no one had ever heard gave Gabrielle a slight edge.  She sat to one side, quenching her thirst with water -- no more wine to muddle the brain! -- while the other bard wove the tale of an Amazon champion named Antares, who had, according to the tale, claimed a magic sword, rescued a Spartan prince and saved the Amazon Nation all at the tender age of fourteen. 
     “Have you ever heard of this champion?”  Xena asked as the bard described in gory detail the rescue of the prince and his Amazon honor guard from the bandits that had kidnapped him for ransom.
     “No.  She must have been after my time,” Gabrielle replied quietly.  “What story do you think I should tell next?”
     Xena took a moment to consider before answering.  The tale of Antares the Avenger (a number of her Amazon sisters had been killed when the prince was kidnapped, hence the avenging) was certainly a crowd pleaser and Antares sounded like Xena’s sort of woman.  “How about the one where Ares’ sword was stolen and he lost his powers and we had to help him get it and them back?”
     “You weren’t in your own body then.”
     “So explain.  It makes the story better.” 
     Gabrielle turned her attention to her next tale while Xena listened to the story being told.  One disadvantage of traveling with a bard was that you heard the same stories over and over again.  Gabrielle was a gifted storyteller but since the overwhelming majority of her stories were about Xena and since Xena had been there when they happened, they didn’t hold her interest as much as they might have.  Xena listened as the tale of Antares unfolded.  So absorbed in the story was she that, at first, she didn’t notice the “itch” that began to nag ever so gently at the edges of her consciousness. 
     Suddenly, she knew.  “My ashes,” she cried, “someone has stolen my ashes!”  And disappeared. Gabrielle, being material, had to settle for bolting for the door, knocking over her chair and causing several patrons to dive out of her way. Several of the other bard’s partisans, angry that her departure had interrupted his story, came storming outside in time to see a furtive shadow race with impossible speed across the roof tops with Gabrielle in hot pursuit on the ground.  The hue and cry went up and in short order every able bodied male, and no few females, in the town were following Gabrielle.

     The Messenger traveled fast.  Her grav-belt reduced her weight to about a sixth of normal and she needed the advantage. Gabrielle was hot on her tail with Xena giving her directions every time the Messenger tried to elude her.  Without breaking stride, the Messenger said three words, paused and said four more.  Then she ran another few feet, changed direction and hid.  The pursuit passed by.  The spell had made her invisible to ghosts and other similar spirits.  As long as she evaded detection by living humans, she could pass unnoticed.  Grinning, she slipped toward the next shadow.
     “I’ve lost her!” Xena snarled.  “One second she was there and the next, she was gone!” Only Gabrielle heard her but the rest of the pursuers realized that their quarry had given them the slip.
     “Spread out,” someone yelled, “he couldn’t have gotten far!”  The crowd dispersed and Gabrielle headed for the main gate, intending to be in position to give chase if the thief made it outside the walls.  She wondered briefly if Autolycus had had any children.
     “Here!” someone shouted.  “He’s gone over the back wall!”
     “Damn!” Gabrielle swore as she ran out the main gate and started around the town’s wall.  She knew from previous visits that there was no back gate.  The town had an escape tunnel that led to the sea but only one gate to defend.  A swarm of townspeople followed her.
     The Messenger heard the sounds of pursuit and knew that she didn’t have much time.  Fortunately, having planned ahead, she didn’t need much.  She had run straight to the clearing where she had done her previous magic and placed the urn containing Xena’s mortal remains in the center of the space.  Then she pulled a small, rectangular device from one of her pockets and pointed the narrow end at the urn.  Numbers appeared on the tiny display.
     “Ninety-nine point nine nine.  Not bad,” she observed.  “Gabrielle did a good job.  I won’t have to use Plan B after all.”  She had not relished the thought of cloning a complete new body for Xena under the current, less than technologically adequate conditions.  Just getting a clone casket into this time would have been a major project in and of itself! She tucked the scanner away and pulled out another, somewhat larger device. Under the plate that read: Property of the Temporal Enforcement Agency  One Time Use  another display clicked away counting the seconds as they added up to minutes then hours and then days.  The Messenger had learned of Xena’s plan to commit Suicide by Samurai too late to reach her and kick some sense into her thick head. She had had barely enough time to retrieve this unit and activate it.  She later learned that she had been barely in time.  She had started the unit only an hour before Xena had allowed herself to be killed.  The display now showed, in days, hours, minutes and seconds the elapsed time since then.  She set the device down next to the urn.  The mob was getting closer.  Everything was preset. All that remained was to push the button.  She pushed it and ran.

  

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Re: Xena: Warrior Princess
Reply #9 - Aug 10th, 2006 at 7:38pm
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The force field came up just as she cleared the area and the Messenger swarmed up a tree seconds before the mob of townspeople with Gabrielle in the lead entered the clearing.  Fortunately, they had sense enough to hang back when they saw the weirdly glowing opaque dome sitting there humming to itself.  Inside it, the Messenger knew, the numbers on the display were rapidly running backwards and in only a few moments they would reach zero.   The Messenger waited.
     “Something’s happening to my body,” Xena cried as indescribable sensations racked her immaterial person.  “Gabrielle!”  Xena screamed and vanished before her horrified friend’s eyes.  Before Gabrielle could even register what had happened, let alone choose a course of action, the timer hit zero.  A shock wave, all the more terrifying for being silent, erupted from the dome as the “One Time Use” was accomplished, the unit disintegrated and the force field came down, knocking everyone in the clearing off of their feet.
     “Look!”
     Gabrielle looked.  Sitting in the middle of the clearing, wrapped in her cremation shroud and wearing foreign armor was Xena, dazed, confused and obviously visible in the moonlight. “Xena?” Gabrielle whispered, not daring to hope.
     Xena looked at her.  “Gabrielle?”  Gabrielle crossed the distance between them without knowing she did it.  Her next conscious thought was of hugging Xena and Xena hugging back.
     In the shelter of her tree, the Messenger of Gaea smiled grimly.  “Enjoy it while you can, Xena,” she whispered to herself and then slipped off into the forest,  leaving the friends to rejoice at the resurrection.
  

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Re: Xena: Warrior Princess
Reply #10 - Dec 1st, 2011 at 4:48pm
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This Topic was moved here from Penth's Collected Stories [move by] Penthesilea.
  

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