Mortals give me names and epithets beyond count, but my first and fondest name was Hypnos.

The surcease of slumber is mine own to give. When night falls, it is my task to enfold the drowsy world in my quiet embrace, and let all mortals be at rest.

Thanatos is my twin. It was ordained that we should have all things in common. Sleep is a brief death, and Death is an endless sleep. My nature reflects his own.


Look upon me in each visage and incarnation, wherefore you shall see that I am now and forever.

Even I was a youngster once, let loose upon a new world in the endless spring, when even the Titans were not aught but brazen youths. I am a child no longer, but I am impish now as I was then.

The Golden Age was a time of boundless prosperity. Mortals called me friend and fellow. I brought sleep to them as a luxury instead of a reprieve from hardship, for they knew no chill of winter nor toil of the fields.

I am a modest, carefree spirit. I do not concern myself with finery and flair. But I am also a minister of Hades, and it is a matter of tradition that I attire myself in a manner more befitting that of a deity.

During the Trojan War, even I had just cause to gird myself in armour, for the gods of Olympos are fickle. The silver mantle was fashioned by sweetling Pasithea, while the winged helm was of my own artifice.

I am not so gloomy as my womb-mate Death, but I am still a son of Night and Darkness. I prefer the gleam of starlight to the blinding glow of Helios, and in the light of day, I seek out the shadows.

Olympos is strange to me, but I do not loathe the heavens as my brother does. After all, my dear Pasithea is Olympian born, and it would be improper of me to tread in the gardens of the Kharites without adopting a more befitting raiment.

Like all divine beings, I can change my semblance to appear howsoever I wish, whether beast, bird, or mortal man. If I should have need for such subtlety, I might submerge myself in human guise, to walk unnoticed among men.


Akherontis's avatar

Last Login: 01/24/2013 10:53 pm

Registered: 03/10/2007

Gender: Male

Location: New Zealand

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Sleep and Death: Musings and Confessions

You Children of Prometheus are so full of questions...We cannot blame you for your ignorance. Your lives are ripples in the ocean of time. We have always been here, our eyes are the eyes of all those who have gone before you. Hearken to our words.


Our family is a vast and variegated Pantheon. Twisting and diverging and converging like the roots of a tree. Whether radiant Olympian or gloomy Khthonian, we are the whole of us united by the divine Ikhor which flows through our deathless veins.

Khaos, Nyx and Erebos
"Our grandsire is Khaos, the gaping void, wherein creation was begun. From the nothingness arose the protogenoi, the first born gods, and among them were our progenitors. The one we call mother is Nyx, the all-seeing goddess of night, whose power even Zeus himself justly fears. Our father is Erebos, the god of darkness, embodiment of the Underworld itself. We are but two sons among their great brood of daimones."

Anaplekte, Akhlys, and Iskhnasia
"My sisters who accompany me in affairs of mortal bloodshed. The Keres are ravenous, bloodthirsty spirits of doom. I let them loose upon fields of wholesale slaughter and disastrous calamity, when I alone am not enough to gather the legions of the dead. Their number is three. Akhlys, foremost among them, is the Ker of the mist of demise which descends over the eyes of the dying. Anaplekte is the Ker of swift demise, harbinger of sudden, violent death. Iskhnasia is the Ker of wasting demise, bringer of entropy, sickness and pestilence."

Phantasos, Morpheus, and Phobetor
"My brothers, who attend me in my nightly chore. The three Oneiroi weave dreams into the minds of those who fall under the sway of my power. Morpheus is the cleverest among the brothers, the Oneiros of visions. He takes on the role of all the phantom actors and visitors in dreams. Phantasos is the Oneiros of fantasies. He shapes the inanimate aspects of dreams and weaves strange, abstract fantasies. Ikelos, called dread Phobetor and Epiales by mortals, is the Oneiros of nightmares. He fashions beasts and monsters in dreams."

Nemesis, Eris and Lyssa
"Of our other sisters, these three are the most prominent. Nemesis is the personification of retribution; avenger, punisher and executioner of the gods. Eris is the personification of strife and discord, who fosters both good and evil in the world, for a man strives to excell when he envies his neighbour. dour mother to all the baneful spirits of Pandora's jar. Lyssa is the personification of insanity, who inflicts raging madness upon men at the behest of the gods. Though she herself is calm and calculating, her touch brings only mindless fury and mental disorder."

Geras, Eurynomos and Momos
"We have dealings aplenty with our dolorous brethren, who dwell with us in the misted vales of the netherworld. Geras is the personification of old age, and represents all the woes and infirmities which beset the elderly in the twilight of their lives. Eurynomos is the personification of rot and decay, eater of the dead, who picks corpses dry until only bones remain. Momos is the personification of blame and mockery, a trickster who flattered his way into heaven and then criticized his way back into Hades. Neither of us like him very much."

Hermes, Pasithea and Eros
"As a matter of course, we do have some tenuous associations with the gods of Olympos. Hermes, messenger of the gods, is the only Olympian who may enter the underworld. Like Thanatos and the Keres, he is a psykhopomp, a conductor of the dead. Lily-white Pasithea is my beloved spouse, youngest of the Kharites, and dearest to my heart. She is the grace of rest and relaxation, and also the bringer of clairvoyance and hallucinations. Finally, Eros is the embodiment of love, whose bow and arrows inflict the sweet pangs of heartsickness. Eros and Thanatos are counterparts in one sense, rivals in another."

Herakles and Orpheus
"Even heroes have not escaped our notice. Herakles, mightiest of the Heroi Hemitheoi, will always hold my contempt. He defeated me once in a contest of strength, and when the time finally came to exact my due vengeance, he was unfairly taken from my grasp and given apotheosis, lifted into the company of the Olympians. Orpheus, the greatest musician ever to have lived, braved the dangers of the underworld to rescue his dead newlywed Eurydike, and won over the Master himself with his mournful song. Alas, their story ends in tragedy."

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I am known by many names in many cultures, but in Mnemosyne's tongue, they call me Thanatos.

I am the sword girt harbinger of the Fates, and the shadow of my wings shall fall over the face of each mortal when our paths inevitably cross.

My womb-mate Hypnos is my mirror image, though he is darker in flesh and brighter in spirit. We are of the same nature, and my touch is gentle like the touch of Sleep.


I am no grim, skeletal cadaver, for I am the shadow of Eros, and that shall haunt you more.

Like all creatures mortal and divine, I was a child in the beginning. Long, long ago, when the world was young and the first mortals lived in harmony with the deathless gods, newly fledged.

In the Age of Titans, I walked among the Golden Race and they saw me not as a grim harvester of souls. Their death was a gentle sleep, their bodies joining with nature, their spirits free to roam the upper airs.

In the time of the Olympians, I serve as a minister of Hades. It is a matter of ceremony that I should walk his rich halls in garb more befitting of the divinity that I am. The wreath of flowers, however, is my brother's doing.

In times of war, I stalk the fields of slaughter arrayed in armour of fearsome aspect. My silhouette is mantled with the fleece of a black ram and crested with an iron winged helm. Even the gods tremble to bear witness to me.

The brightness of the mortal world is abhorrent to me, and the radiant sun-god Helios is no friend of mine. When I venture into sunlit lands, I choose to do so under the shadow of a death shawl.

This, however, is my least favored apparel. I do so despise it when I am forced to visit heavenly Olympos, with its gilded halls and crystal promenades. A wretched abode for a wretched cavalcade of insipid immortals.

If I should deign to beguile human eyes, then I have the power to adopt an inconspicuous visage of flesh and blood, appearing as a mere mortal. To embrace the vulgarity of human nature is not a thing I would relish, however.