Categories > Cartoons > Class of the Titans > Across Time, Against Time
Before the Dawn Rises
5 reviews"...all that stood in his way were those heroes....They, with their foul Hope, and his children the Gods behind them, defiled his glories, wretched mortals that they were, disgracing the name of Cr...
1Original
A/N from Kitters: According to my text-book teachers, my writing style may be warped, confusing and difficult to interpret, and grammatically incorrect due to my tendency to use extremely long, run-on sentences which aren't actually run on sentences 'cause they're cool like that. Also, my knowledge of Greek mythology and history is warped between my knowledge of Class of the Titans, a seventh grade study on Ancient Greece, The Odyssey of Home {translated by Richmond Lattimore} and several research sources all interpreting different prominent events and characters in completely different ways. Anyways, I'll be attempting to control my impulses and smooth out the kinks in my knowledge without ruining the story all too much - so kindly point out any errors to me, so that I can please you lot all the more with some decent writing.
Disclaimer: Kitters claims to be so cool that she doesn't own Class of the Titans, and thus none of the characters are hers. Don't sue her. Kitters does not love people who sue.
The general, 'crazed overlord taking of the world' stick is a universal idea, however, so she'll make all the twists thrown into that do belong to her. Why? Because she says so. She intends to cling to the laws of her eccentric brain and see how far she can make this fanfic tick without falling into the cliché.
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The last battle embraced and intoxicated their attentions, drowning out emotions, thoughts, and actions. It was, all around them, a bloody mass, a haze of withering darkness, and about that evil temperament the world took on there was a fragile beauty, like that of a glittering glass rose. The moment that absorbed the Titans was one the like of which their ancestors had never faced - or maybe they had, for I wouldn't know - but yet the differences in parallels came up to par.
Together the argonauts fought side-by side, lead by Jason, the brave, bold being that he was. God-like Herakles was by his side, just as before, and the hunter, Atalanta. However, looking down upon them as the gods did, there was something simpler about these noble heroes than their counterparts recognized in past glories. No, these were not argonauts, but mere children - Herry, Atlanta and Jay. There was no witch, Medea, to heal their wounds in this final battle, and all they could possibly know was young Hope fighting against the dark now clouding their hearts.
But yet, who was there by them but Odysseus, and with him noble Achilles? Wait - no. In a different light, they were not the mighty Achaeans from the Battle of Troy - long ago had those heroes perished. Respectively they were called Odie and Archie, and within them the fiercest traits of their ancestors - perhaps diluted as their blood might be - so that they stood and faced their trial. This time it was not for Helen, shining among women, the wife of Menelaos, but for themselves, to live up to their blood and defend their ancestors still to come.
So it was with Narcissus and Theseus, heroes in their own name. There was Neil, vainer than Narcissus had ever been, and half the hero of his ancestor, though life had made him lucky to make up for it. And that - that was a many-times great granddaughter of mighty Theseus, with the powers of Teiresias behind her.
Seven heroes was all the world had. Seven heroes who had came across time to battle it. Was it not true that Chronus and Kronus were one manifestation now? A spiteful, hateful creature... Power had possessed him, driven him mad, and never would The Golden Age return under his reign. No - this was Cronus, mad is his conquest to repossess that which righteous Zeus had taken from him.
All that stood in his way were those heroes. Jay, Atlanta, Archie, Odie, Theresa, Herry and Neil. They, with their foul Hope, and his children the Gods behind them, defiled his glories, wretched mortals that they were, disgracing the name of Cronus, God of Time, father of Zeus, ancient ruler of the Golden Age. Had Epimetheus, he wondered, forged these creatures to defy him, as his sons and daughters defied him? Had he forseen that the greatest among Gods would be beaten back by Man's children? Even now the Leader rose again to face him though he was surely outclassed, trailed by his spirited Hunter, the powerful Warrior, his great Mind, the fierce Fighter, mighty Strength and, furthermore, the blessing of Luck, each manifested into the form of a different companion, forming what he had thought before - as did they and the Gods by their side - an invincible whole.
But now... now his victory was at hand. This was what the Oracle failed to foresee - the war won after the loss of a commonplace battle. In the end, he would reign supreme, and the Golden Age would be refashioned once more as he remembered it, in the crazed haze of his mind, mad and evil tyrant though he now was.
Disclaimer: Kitters claims to be so cool that she doesn't own Class of the Titans, and thus none of the characters are hers. Don't sue her. Kitters does not love people who sue.
The general, 'crazed overlord taking of the world' stick is a universal idea, however, so she'll make all the twists thrown into that do belong to her. Why? Because she says so. She intends to cling to the laws of her eccentric brain and see how far she can make this fanfic tick without falling into the cliché.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The last battle embraced and intoxicated their attentions, drowning out emotions, thoughts, and actions. It was, all around them, a bloody mass, a haze of withering darkness, and about that evil temperament the world took on there was a fragile beauty, like that of a glittering glass rose. The moment that absorbed the Titans was one the like of which their ancestors had never faced - or maybe they had, for I wouldn't know - but yet the differences in parallels came up to par.
Together the argonauts fought side-by side, lead by Jason, the brave, bold being that he was. God-like Herakles was by his side, just as before, and the hunter, Atalanta. However, looking down upon them as the gods did, there was something simpler about these noble heroes than their counterparts recognized in past glories. No, these were not argonauts, but mere children - Herry, Atlanta and Jay. There was no witch, Medea, to heal their wounds in this final battle, and all they could possibly know was young Hope fighting against the dark now clouding their hearts.
But yet, who was there by them but Odysseus, and with him noble Achilles? Wait - no. In a different light, they were not the mighty Achaeans from the Battle of Troy - long ago had those heroes perished. Respectively they were called Odie and Archie, and within them the fiercest traits of their ancestors - perhaps diluted as their blood might be - so that they stood and faced their trial. This time it was not for Helen, shining among women, the wife of Menelaos, but for themselves, to live up to their blood and defend their ancestors still to come.
So it was with Narcissus and Theseus, heroes in their own name. There was Neil, vainer than Narcissus had ever been, and half the hero of his ancestor, though life had made him lucky to make up for it. And that - that was a many-times great granddaughter of mighty Theseus, with the powers of Teiresias behind her.
Seven heroes was all the world had. Seven heroes who had came across time to battle it. Was it not true that Chronus and Kronus were one manifestation now? A spiteful, hateful creature... Power had possessed him, driven him mad, and never would The Golden Age return under his reign. No - this was Cronus, mad is his conquest to repossess that which righteous Zeus had taken from him.
All that stood in his way were those heroes. Jay, Atlanta, Archie, Odie, Theresa, Herry and Neil. They, with their foul Hope, and his children the Gods behind them, defiled his glories, wretched mortals that they were, disgracing the name of Cronus, God of Time, father of Zeus, ancient ruler of the Golden Age. Had Epimetheus, he wondered, forged these creatures to defy him, as his sons and daughters defied him? Had he forseen that the greatest among Gods would be beaten back by Man's children? Even now the Leader rose again to face him though he was surely outclassed, trailed by his spirited Hunter, the powerful Warrior, his great Mind, the fierce Fighter, mighty Strength and, furthermore, the blessing of Luck, each manifested into the form of a different companion, forming what he had thought before - as did they and the Gods by their side - an invincible whole.
But now... now his victory was at hand. This was what the Oracle failed to foresee - the war won after the loss of a commonplace battle. In the end, he would reign supreme, and the Golden Age would be refashioned once more as he remembered it, in the crazed haze of his mind, mad and evil tyrant though he now was.
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