Character Profile: Masoud by tomaj-etc, literature
Literature
Character Profile: Masoud
Masoud was ever the opportunist. So much so, one could say he made a deal with the devil, and the devil lost. But he was not a gambler. He would not make a bet he could not win – or at least find a way to win. He had been a tomb raider, a pirate, a thief, a villain – but also a monk, a knight, a warrior, a hero. He had been a servant and a nobleman, wealthy and poor, renowned and unknown. Who he appeared to be changed as often as the wind. Who he was, well, that was a different story. He was, at least at one point in his life, a simple man. Not particularly full of ardor, he spent his early adulthood as most others he knew did – farming, herding, doing the things one needed to do to get by, and maybe get a little extra here and there. That did not mean he did not want more from life. But injuries and illness were not uncommon, and each village and town had their own healers and hedge mages. Such was the case for Masoud. Indeed, he had to make his own visit to one such shaman
Dark, damp, windy, and cold. Individually, they were of no consequence; together, they made even great discomfort seem desirable. Irena knew pondering on such thoughts was dangerous. This night, more so than most, distraction could have far-reaching consequences. But it was difficult to stay focused, even so. Recent events had begun to take their toll not only on her but also many others who shared her position. It seemed almost as if there were another secondary war inside Avenhold itself, and the current objective was to disrupt lines of communication. A gust of wind threatened to throw open her cloak, dispelling her stray thoughts in the process. She clutched at it with one hand in an attempt to bring it closer and preserve what warmth she could. In her other hand, she clasped a dagger, the flat of the blade resting along the inside of her wrist. Without another hand, she could hardly keep her hood up, and so let flow free her ebony hair. Footpads and thieves were of little
Hephaestus held his cup of tea with care. Athena was not prone to opulence, but what little she did have, she treasured deeply; usually, gifts from friends long gone. They sat in silence, as they often did, sipping away at their tea. He could tell she had something on her mind, but would not pry; if she wanted to, she would speak on whatever it was. “I wonder, sometimes,” Athena said abruptly, “if Ares has the right of it.” Hephaestus furrowed his brow, considering for a moment. “In what regard, sister?” She set her cup down gently. She hesitated, her expression distant. “In battle. Each battle requires some degree of strategy to win. Is that not so?” Hephaestus chuckled, a low rumble, and shook his head. “On the battlefield, that is true. But not every battle is on the battlefield. Some battles cannot use strategy, let alone be won with it.” Athena cocked her head slightly, turning her gaze to her brother. “How do you mean?” Hephaestus glanced up at a shredded tapestry above
Areopagus. The quiet was interrupted only by the click-click of boots on the stone floor. Sometimes, Ares could not stand how peaceful it could be. But today, he took solace in it. “There you are,” a woman’s voice said. The clicking came to an abrupt halt, briefly ringing in the air. Ares narrowed his eyes. “Aphrodite. Why are you here?” Perhaps there was a touch more venom in his words than he intended. Too late to worry about that now. “Is that how you greet your love?” Aphrodite replied, feigning incredulity as she rounded a corner to face him. She even had the gall to pout! The nerve of that woman! Ares thought. “This is my domain. My sanctuary. Why. Are. You. Here?” he demanded once more. She approached him, running a finger along his bare shoulder. It took great effort not to bristle in disgust. “Take a wild guess,” she whispered in his ear. “Fuck you,” he growled. “You’ve nothing to offer me.” She raised an eyebrow. “Really. Are you so content to wage wars and—” she
Character Profile: Masoud by tomaj-etc, literature
Literature
Character Profile: Masoud
Masoud was ever the opportunist. So much so, one could say he made a deal with the devil, and the devil lost. But he was not a gambler. He would not make a bet he could not win – or at least find a way to win. He had been a tomb raider, a pirate, a thief, a villain – but also a monk, a knight, a warrior, a hero. He had been a servant and a nobleman, wealthy and poor, renowned and unknown. Who he appeared to be changed as often as the wind. Who he was, well, that was a different story. He was, at least at one point in his life, a simple man. Not particularly full of ardor, he spent his early adulthood as most others he knew did – farming, herding, doing the things one needed to do to get by, and maybe get a little extra here and there. That did not mean he did not want more from life. But injuries and illness were not uncommon, and each village and town had their own healers and hedge mages. Such was the case for Masoud. Indeed, he had to make his own visit to one such shaman
One of the things I like to do while writing is to go out of my way to subvert or avert common tropes, whatever they may be. When I started fooling around with AI art, the same thing was true there. In fact, I found it interesting to try to prompt for artist styles that were outside of what they were intended to be, or mixing and matching genres and archetypes - such as using a baroque painter's style to get images of fantastical, science fiction scenes, or barbarian wizards and clerics. That quickly became a huge difficulty. At some point, I ended up with the idea of Hades as a superhero. With how enamored I was with the image that was generated from that idea, I moved to try to recreate it with others in the Greek pantheon. From there, I expanded a little into Egyptian mythos, and then into people from the Three Kingdoms area (not the least of which was due to my being a fan of the Dynasty Warriors series). With that, I don't have the notion that it should be a strict reimagining,