Favor: Contest of Gods

Enlighten me, O Divine Muse, and unfurl the tale of contest on high. When the Gods designed to settle the primordial question: Who amongst Olympus holds the greatest sway? Who can lay true claim to being first among equals? Who is Favored above all others? Of these questions and of their storied answers, wise one, reveal to us. Allow this epic to breathe through me, O Muse, that we may revel in your truth.

It began with a simple choice of words. Perhaps the smallest flap of wings or ripple of water could have tipped the scale, such that none of this came to pass. But there was no flap, no ripple, and when Lord Ares returned from the battlefield covered in blood, the words he shouted into the quiet Olympian courtyard were these: "I am the greatest Archer of all!"

While the great conqueror Ares’ choice of speech was arbitrary, what happened next was all too predictable. Under a blazing sunrise, the perfectly trimmed foliage wilted as Shining Apollo stalked over to the Lord of War. "You must know you voice a challenge," Apollo spat, eyes filled with fire, "For I, and I alone, am the God of Archery. What is this deed that you have done that makes you so prone to boast?" Ares regarded his half-brother coldly and replied, "I have blessed the arms of 10,000 men, felling the entire cavalry of their invaders. None could have done the same, least of all you, Apollo." 

"Bah! Who cares of 10,000 men?" Apollo rolled his eyes, glaring, "With so many targets, they could hardly miss! Have them each shoot a gadfly from a horse without drawing blood and you may return to me for my title."

"And the horse must be moving. Through the trees," said Elusive Artemis, slipping out from the shadow of her brother. "It is no true Hunt if the target is still." Ares began to reply, only to be cut off by Apollo, sending waves of discord rippling across Olympian fountains and streams. Yet all three silenced at an amused chuckle from the shade of a nearby olive tree. "And what do you say, O Wise Sister?" Ares asked, turning, "Where do you find mirth?"

"I find mirth in how predictable and pointless this is", sighed Pallas Athena, not looking up from a board propped against the olive trunk, full of schematics and designs. "You three will argue for all eternity over who is the better archer under some set of circumstances. Soon, Hermes will point out he can shoot faster than all of you and Dionysus will counter that he is the best once everyone is drunk. You will go round and round and round until you tire, only to return the next time any make a claim." The Goddess cracked a smile and brushed away chalk dust. "It's amusing, in a sad sort of way. A litter of dogs chasing their siblings’ tails."

Proud Ares made to reply, face red with anger, but was stopped by the gentlest of silk and entrancing perfumes. "I'm afraid I must agree with her, dearest," Alluring Aphrodite interjected, taking her lover's hand. "You get so worked up over 'who is the best' and never seem to resolve anything. I just want to see you happy. Plus," the Goddess of Beauty continued, grimacing, "Archery is such a bore. If we must do 10,000 of something, let it at least be fun. How about seducing 10,000 monarchs?"

"Pass" Athena and Artemis said together. Even Ares quietly shook his head no. "How about a race?" Said Quick Hermes, suddenly appearing on top of Athena's board. "Everyone loves races, even the Mortals." With a huff and a flurry of movement the Goddess of Wisdom knocked him from his perch, landing the Divine Messenger on his backside. "No races. More importantly, you are all proposing only competitions you will win. The outcome is fixed, thus the endeavor is pointless, and thus,” finished Logical Athena, "I am done with this conversation. Please leave me be."

"Y'know," came a slurred voice from around the back of the tree, where Dionysus had been quietly emptying the better part of a cask, "What we need's a game with a fair set of rules. Where any of us could win, so we all want to strive to do so." Apollo, rounding the tree, snapped up the wine and poured himself a drink. "The God of Impaired Thinking is, shockingly, correct. I haven't put my skills to the test in ages; I would love a challenge."

Dionysus stood shakily to his feet. "A challenge, yes. I challenge you all to a contest of Gods." He swept his eyes over the assembled group. "One only the strongest, only the most cunning, only the most entrancing, only the most... Favored... could win." Suave Dionysus saw the glint of desire reflect in his siblings, but one piece was missing. He turned his gaze to the stoic Goddess still hunched over a chalkboard. "But unfortunately, that would require a fair set of rules that give all an equal chance. Designing such a scheme is clearly too complex, even for the Gods." As if on cue the scribbling stopped and Pallas Athena turned her gaze upward. "It is a rhetorical trap, but a good one. I will build your game, Lord of Parties and Revels. It will surpass every expectation." Smiling, Dionysus took the final sip of his wine. "I never claimed that it wouldn't."

And so Wise Athena toiled for eight years, testing rule after rule, version after version, until her masterpiece was completed. When the great work was finally done she assembled the Gods in the shade of the same olive tree and explained to them the rules: Over the course of six years, each God would aim to build the most prosperous civilization. Whoever raised the grandest temples, won the most battles, and completed the most heroic quests, would be crowned the most Favored of all the Gods.

All the Gods were in attendance, as none could pass up a chance to finally prove their excellence once and for all. Even Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades momentarily left their domains in the hands of underlings to attend and learn. Hera and Demeter quietly schemed on one side of the grove as Hephaestus and Hestia did the same on the other. Without a moment to lose, the game was set to start, on a small plot of land at the base of their divine mountain home.

It is at this point, of course, that the real story begins…