Mischief Mage: Something that i thought up during Latin at school. Experimenting with the shape of the writing that translations of the original text. Set...some time after the deaths of Hector and Achilles and some time before that odd incident with the horse. This is not witty humour, this is a silly story. I will try to keep the characters that i like in character as much as possible and will try not to embarass them. If i have excluded a character or make a mistake in the plot, I either don't know or don't care so please restrain your hatred for me! Afterall, i only know the story from what i've read of the Odysessy and book two of the Aeneid. But i could tell you a lot about the themes and language features of the original latin! BTW i think i'm going to use the greek names but if i slip a roman one in by accident...please forgive me
Disclaimer: Just in case. I do not own any part of the Illiad, the Odysessy, the Aeneid or anything relating to Homer's or Vergil's accounts of the Trojan War. I would be in a lot of trouble right now if i did so it's just as well.
Book 1
Sing O Muse of the wrath of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaens.
And of the frustration of Odysseus son of Laertes; of the idiocy of Menelaus that brought about
the deaths of approximately fifteen thousand four hundred twenty three and four sevenths men;
of the weak bladder of a nameless shoulder whom we shall call here, Bobo son of Anonymous
as it amuses ourselves as well as the divine Gods who chuckle at his corporal faults from on high
in their home Olympus which is seated upon lofty cirrus clouds. For what else have the divine immortals
to do but tease pitiful mortals? Ten arduous years and a thousand ships have yet failed to tame or be
tamed by the fortress of Troy. The ashes of Achilles, son of the magical Thetis ; of Hector, tamer of warriors;
And of hundreds of others whom did not merit a mention were but dust catching in the throats of panting soldiers during
their exercise periods. The city and the beach were empty of the raucous shrieks of battle or of the
annoying wailings of mourning innocents. The cunning but restless Greeks tire of their camp games, and,
craving amusement of greater daring, scale the immeasurable walls of Troy, buckets of scarlett blood and
brushes made from the scalps of the fallen. And thus, the young recruits deface the reknowned walls of Priam's
city. The guardian sons of the Dardan city can only gaze in awe and horror at the bloody red script sweeping
across their proud walls: 'Helen is my love muffin', 'Pyrrhus waz here' and 'Odysseus is my home dog.' It is
at this time that the leaders of the Greeks, broken by war and repulsed by fate now with so many years slipping by
and unable to amuse themselves with graffiti, build a horse the size of a reasonably large hill but not quite the size of a
mountain or at least not the size of Mount Ida and probably the size of a volcano depending on whether the crater
collapsed after the eruption or not. They cut down multitudes of trees from Ida's top to weave it ribs with and form its shape.
However, the arduous destruction took four weeks and the wood of three ships as the first builder hadn't gotten the idea that
it was meant to be hollow and had filled the horse's body with divine glass melted from the coarse sand underfoot.