The gods soon came to notice the changes made on the earth.
The earth was once again green and living, but much more living things were on the earth than should have been. Something was amiss with the mortality rate.
Mankind carried themselves the same as ever, but with less consequence. Very few men were being allowed into the underworld, and were therefore roaming earth's surface.
Many were simply unable to die, which may have been good for those who were merely injured and could heal, but for those who were ill or old, they were forced to suffer in pain.
Those who managed still to die were not permitted entry to the underworld. They walked the earth as spirits and wraiths. They cried out for help from their loved ones, but there was no aid the living could give. The cries of anguish and fear from the spectres filled the air and echoed in the heads of any who could hear. They wailed and wept and cursed the gods as they begged to be permitted to the next life. The translucent hands grasped at the living, passing through them and causing both parties to shriek.
Groups of wraiths and spirits milled about as if they were still living, causing panic among those who had not died.
The only men allowed to enter the underworld were those who were killed in honorable combat. Those who had fought for a noble cause and died fairly were allowed to continue to the afterlife. This made for a large portion of the noble and good men to be killed by those who would not die.
Hermes traveled over the earth's surface in a flurry of activity. He worked his way around crowds of anxious mortals. He would have offered them help if he could, but there was nothing he could do for them. He knew of only one god who could aid the mortals at this time, but he also knew that this specific god was in a rather bad mood and was most likely the cause of all the trouble.
Author's note: I know this is really short. i will be updating again very soon if all goes well to make up for it. I hope you enjoy it so far.