If anyone would tell me any heroes from the Romans, and just the Romans, that would be great! And if anyone will be my Beta, that would also be nice. Or just tell me if I messed up something important.
The Meeting of the Dead
Getting the dead all together was the hardest part. Especially since there were those from the Isles of Blest, and the ones calling the meeting had never reincarnated. Those from the Isles can visit the regular Elysium, but those from the regular Elysium could not visit the Isles. But they could yell at the top of their lungs. And that is how all of the best came to sit by the house of Abraham Lincoln, watching Julius Caser, who was standing on the roof.
"Alright, who here hasn't heard the news about the Great Prophesy?" He cried out to the mass of people. None said a thing, except for a few Civil War Confederates arguing with the Greek Theseus. "Good, good, and you all heard Kronos and Gaia? You have heard Gaia, and what she believes Hera's plan is?" The Confederates and Theseus stopped shoving each other and started up at Julius, a solemn look in their eyes. Not a single soul complained that they did not understand what Julius said. He sighed. That meant that they were so powerful that even the souls that were lost in party could feel it. Even the souls that lacked the instincts that demigods and mortals with clear eyes had could feel their presence. "If Olympus falls, so does Hades. And if Hades falls, whoever has taken over most likely will not be as fair as him. We may end up in the Fields of Punishment." With those words he, and many others, glanced at the direction of the home of the wicked. Not many in Elysium thought often of the place. Many shivered at the very thought of it.
"Not to mention, we don't really want ALL the gods to suffer." He trailed off. Many of the souls would like at least a portion of the gods to suffer. But not all. " And the mortals and demigods should not be left to suffer. They would be left in the cross-fire." Some muttering could be heard now. Agreement, for the most part. This was Elysium. Here, people cared for one another. "We are the best. We are the ones who not only lived and accomplished, but were good to others. That is what we need for the demigods of the Prophesies. We need those destined for Elysium. We need one of our own. And," here looked about to the faces in front of him. Perseus. Achilles. Jason. Napoleon. George Washington (reincarnation of Odysseus). Amelia Earhart. Rose Parks. Penelope. Heroes upon heroes. These were the people he was targeting. These were the people he needed. "what better way to ensure that people like us are in charge of our fates, then to send out our own?"
First, there was a moment of silence. Then commotion. Like the subject of making love in the Victorian age, this was a subject not spoken of in polite company until the person involved brought it up. Even then, the subject was carefully tread upon. It was a private matter. Those who choose to go were never sure if they would ever come back. To so openly discuss the matter was unconventional. Yet in the commotion, much of it was positive reinforcement of the idea. The only negativity came from those who believed it should not be spoken of, and those who refused to be the ones to go. Many stood silent, letting the plan sink in.
It had never been done, sending out dead heroes for a specific, beyond personal reasons. A voice from the back then shouted, "How many will be needed?" Turning, one could see the flickering form of George Washington, quickly turning into Odysseus and back again to George. "Because I will be one, if you will take me." Nods and agreement were heard throughout. No one could argue that some one as wise and cunning as Odysseus would be needed. "You will be a child of Athena again? You realize you cannot choose then the gender? The birth takes place to quickly." Julius asked.
"You think I don't know that? Of course I will be a child of Athena. Or Minerva. The mortals will need wisdom on their side." George, now more solid, scowled, "But how many? Will we take eight? One for each? Or will we be more careful, and send more, in case one of the eight dies young?"
"Eight? That's too many! Let's see what they knew generations are made of!" cried a women far in the back, hidden by the crowed. Another voice shot up, "No! More! Isn't obvious that each year the demigods get weaker? Have you not seen the new camps? Nothing compared to what they used to be!" "Ridicules! There is nothing wrong with them!" Voice after voice piped up their opinion, until the chaos that engulfed the crowed was more closely relatable to the Fields of Punishment then to peaceful Elysium.
"HEY! BE QUIET!" screamed Perseus. Soon there was silence. A certain amount of respect went out to the first demigod hero that no other hero received. "Maybe we should stick to eight. If one dies, that is an opportunity for others to take their place. Yet there is still enough to take all the open slots for the Prophesy." He looked around, daring anyone to argue. None did. It was not worth getting on Perseus's bad side.
Julius smiled his thankfulness to Perseus, than looked back at the others. "We need volunteers. One will have to be the next child born to the Big Three. All the others must be born around the same time, unless they are also the children of the Big Three. Then they must be younger. Other then that, you can be anything. Anyone?" There was whispers and shuffling in the crowd. This needed great consideration. Then some one stood.
At first, no one recognized him. He was mortal, a Latino by the looks. A new citizen of Elysium. Then a single flicker, and everyone understood. Argus. The builder of the Argo. There little disagreement. Someone skilled with their hands will be needed.
"I would like to be a son of Hephaestus or Vulcan. That would work well, I believe." Nods. This was good. A good second recruit. Argus sat quickly, looking a little shocked that he had done this. Like he needed time to let it sink in. Though the other Elysiumers had no time for that, since at that moment another figure rose. This one was not so kindly taken to.
Boos were sent out to the standing Helen of Troy. "Don't you think," cried Odysseus, in fully Greek form, "That you have caused enough?" Helen whirled around to face him. "I can cause armies to assemble by being kidnapped against my will. Think of what I can do when I WANT it to happen." There was silence for only a second before yet again argument broke lose.
"OK! OK! Ok. Listen, let's give Helen a moment to explain herself more clearly. Helen?" There was a thick silence in the air, filled with the emotion of the armies of the dead. Armies of the Greeks and Trojans included. "In my first life I had no choices. In this newer world women are given more opportunities. This time around I will have the opportunity to speak for myself. And speaking I am good at." She looked around, catching the attention of all around her. "Do you think the judges would have sent me here if they thought I had purposely caused the Trojan War? I will do good. Not to mention that if I was a convincing person as a daughter of Zeus I would do even better as a gifted child of Aphrodite, of Venus." She looked around. Grudging agreement seemed to emit from most.
Julius nodded. "Yes. Someone to keep the Romans and Greeks from killing each other. Fine. Anyone else? We need five more."
Perseus raised his hand. "I'll go. I'll take anything that comes up that would do well in battle." To this no nods were needed. It was obvious that Perseus would go. Maybe his luck will fallow him in the next life.
Amelia Earhart stood. "I will go as well. None will stand in my way." No one tried. She too was well respected.
"I'll go," said a steady voice. For many it took a while to recognize him. But when they did, weariness took place. Meleager was a hero, true, but his life depended on a single stick. There was uneasiness of likely he would be to die too young in this next life as well. Or worse. Die just as he was needed for battle and was already part of the Prophesy. But no one else stood to challenge him for his place. And so Meleager remained standing.
"No one else? All are these great heroes just cowards in disguise?" cried out Perseus. "Come! Will no one else attempt to save Olympus?"
"We will." All heads turned to a pair in the very back, a pair no one had expected to even come to the meeting. It was a meeting for the dead. But in a way, they were dead as well.
"By the gods." Muttered Julius slowly under his breath, "I think we just won the war."
