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| User: | ares_godofwar (347094) ![Self-committed [paid]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/talk/md10_thumbup.gif){kind=small} Ares
I'm not crazy; I'm just a little unwell. |
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| Bio: |  Personality: Even after thousands of years, Ares remains as capricious as ever. A smile so sweet and innocent could turn predatory and menacing in the blink of an eye. Though he does try, Ares lacks patience and flares up easily and quickly, sometimes for no reason and often without any warning. Through the millennia he has cultivated the art of curbing his violent outbursts with body language, with silence and with cutting and snide remarks. It would be very uncharacteristic of him, though, to deal with anything through peaceful means. Perhaps that was why he could never really run his own business, or indulge in activities like fishing. Ares is a free spirit, wandering through space and time with no particular destination in mind and with no particular goal. He was often there for those who call upon his name, strength and blessing but he is known not to be the most reliable person around. In fact he is more of a bystander; an observer only stepping in at the last minute to… spice things up a little before the curtains fell. Pockets of wars emerge through continents and through time, and the twisted voyeur Ares is always close, watching from a distance. There is a sadistic glint in his eyes of bloodlust that can never be satiated, even if he was the one shedding blood. Until the end of time he will enjoy himself in this way; after all, when the battle is finished, he tends to be the only one left standing to savour the spoils of war. History: Long ago, Ares had already lost count of how old he was. Tens, hundreds, thousands of years have passed since Zeus and Hera produced a bloodhound for a son. And in the glorious days of ‘ancient’ Greece, Ares had temples dedicated to him and thousands of worshippers from young soldiers to old mothers, praying for vivaciousness, glory and victory in war. The prayers fell on deaf ears and the offerings were burned for nothing, it seemed, as battered ships returned years later carrying bare hundreds of cowardly survivors clinging to the last strands of life. Ares wanted the wars, and Ares wanted to witness the fights and glorious deaths of mere mortals. Sometimes he introduced novel elements to see how the soldiers would cope, and while most were disappointing, at best, the chaos and bloody fury were what appeased him. Those times were long gone by now, and the world Ares was wandering around in had changed numerous times before morphing into the land he lived in. Ares had no regrets – granted, when he had made the move over to America during the American War of Independence, his worshippers were long gone and faith in him, as well as the other gods and goddesses from Greece, was long dead. But as long as humans were still alive on this planet, there would always be wars. People would always be killing other people; to conquer territory, to stop communism from spreading, to acquire unimaginable riches, to win the ‘War on Terror’ - to sit on the throne, wield power and laugh heartily. Whatever the reason – whatever the excuse was, battles would be fought until the end of time, and Ares will be there, watching nonchalantly until something more interesting manages to catch his attention. People did not have to worship him directly, per se, for Ares to live. No one might believe in Ares anymore but the power he had over mankind was real and absolute. Life has been mundane, to say the least, since the migration to the States. Wars were fought elsewhere but he was confined here. It was just as well – the crimson backdrop and bloodcurdling screams were starting to get a little boring anyway. Joining the human bandwagon in a trend known as ‘job-hopping’, Ares has been drifting around New York City under the name Saule Wolff, taking up the odd job every now and again and leaving whenever things started getting repetitive. It was not as if he desperately needed money, anyway, considering he had so much of it accumulated in the bank that all of it would overflow from the vault – greed, capitalism, money; he could leave for the other gods. Sample Post: Too peaceful. That was the first thing Ares had thought of the bloody place. It had been his first day on the job as some telephone operator and he was half-hoping the place would be a little more chaotic – like the time he worked at the stockbroker company. Telephones were ringing and people were screaming and there were some very fine young women more than happy to spend the night with him. Over at his new workplace, the only violence to be had was bloody paper jams in the printer. This city was too peaceful too. Reflecting on the day and these thoughts were what Ares was doing, leaning against the rails of the balcony of his penthouse, looking over the lights of the city that never sleeps. No matter what time it was, there would always be people out and about, going about their business. It surprised him; that even without bloodshed Ares had managed to find a way to entertain himself until now. It was still too early to leave, though. Wars might have been fought overseas but this country seemed to be the one instigating them. Living this long and not going out in a blaze of glory two thousand years ago might not have been such a bad thing, after all. Well, whatever. Those things were a world away from here. Hell would freeze over before Ares would even contemplate returning to that job tomorrow morning. Hugh Jackman is in no way associated with this journal. The thoughts contained within are not their own, nor are they meant to represent the actual thoughts, lifestyle, actions or image of this person. Their image is being used for the fictional representation of a character in the role-playing game Forgotten Gods, from which no profit is being made. No harm, misrepresentation, libel, malice or copyright infringement is intended. The images used are not the property of the player and belong to the person depicted and/or their respective copyright holders.  | |||||||||
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