Where there is good in the world, there is always evil. Depicted throughout time, in life and religion, for murderers there are healers and for sinners there are forgivers.
Perhaps it is best to start from the beginning and the end.
In this time, people worshipped gods of great power, we’ve come to know them as the gods of Olympus. Though these “gods” seem to be no more than fiction to us, they are no more a myth than you or I. These gods were real. Though god is not too far from the truth they were only human. The power bestowed upon them was a gift, to save the world. To fight the darkness.
Every 25 centuries darkness will rise, infect and fester in those holding darkness in their heart. Taking command of their very soul, this army of death marched around the world where they would take death and destruction to the lands on which they stood. They could not be stopped. That is until that day, the day where it all changed. No-one knows exactly when that day was or what made it so special. But on that day the hope which seemed to still flicker in the heart of humanity glowed brighter than ever before. This hope created them, no not the gods, but the weapons which they wielded. It was this that made them into gods, the mighty weapons. The Arsenal of Olympus.
Six weapons were created. Made of pure hope, they could not be destroyed as long as there was a flicker of hope in the world. These were the weapons which won the war, becoming the centre of a new religion.
But as I said, this was the beginning and the end.
Before the arsenal was created, the darkness reigned for 2 years scarring the land. The battle between them left little in its wake.
The Olympians used the power they wielded to rebuild their cities and help those in need. This was their new duty. A year passed this way, a long and difficult year. In this time the Olympians noticed that their powers were waning, their immortal weapons showed signs of age and ware. Then without warning the arsenal crumbled into dust and was lost.
The Olympians had lost their abilities, but this had not changed who they were, they still had responsibility. Without their powers, the tasks that use to take these gods minutes, took them days or weeks, they were now mere unrecognisable strangers helping as they passed by. In the eyes of man, The Olympians were gone.
Though abandoned by their weapons, the time they did hold them changed the foundation o their bodies. The ravages of time slowed, and they lived through more lifetimes than anyone should have had to. Loved ones, children and even grandchildren faded in front of their eyes. Afraid of loss and persecution they went into hiding, travelling the world. When time finally caught up to them, the earth sapped the power within, and forests bloomed. Immortalising their graves.
And so, as time moved on, their deeds and courage slipped away into myth and legend.