Session Report: Heroes of Agon

The second session of Russell’s voyage into the Ancient Greece of myth turns out to be even more potty-mouthed and juvenile than the first, despite the best endeavours of the gamesmaster. Much fun is had by all, though it likely that each participant remembers things slightly differently…

2 Responses to “Session Report: Heroes of Agon”

  1. There is no difference to be remembered, it happened like this:

    After having disposed of the sorcerers snakes we, the heroes of Troy and beyond, with much gayety ventured into the ruined temple. It was a this point the woman of Sin and Sexuality decided to make her prescense known to us. She was wearing a mask that covered pretty (Im sure, judging by the others expressions) face, and spoke to us in a high and lofty squeel…as women do.

    A bit of chitter chatter went between us and the Sinfull sorceress, especially Platipuus our girly mouthed self appointed leader, but when it came down to buisness it was the REAL men and heroes that took action!
    Whats-his-face challenged her to make a copy of himself, but it was a sad and dull thing she created, so I thought that if anything beautifull had to be created in this manner it must certainly be me that was copied.
    So we challanged her again, this time to copy the hunk of a man that is I, and man did she do a good job! Platipuus decided it was time for more girly chitter chatter, but I took action. I stepped forward and volountered myself to be her sexual hostage…and of course with no hessitation she accepted.

    The next that happens can be described in a poem, but alas I am no poet, so I shall sum it up instead:
    “It was good for me, and for me….was it good for you too?”
    There was much action between me, my copy and the Sinfull Sorceress, the hut caught fire, and we killed her and claimed her former lovers horn as our own.

  2. Such addle-witted drivel should not be unexpected from one with naught between his ears save the occasional wind-tossed ball of tumbleweed. Let this tale be recounted by one with the wit to tell it and the faculties to recall it true.

    And so it came to pass that Great-Spirited Ampelios, blessed son of Odysseus, champion of Atreus, tamer of the Italian Stallion, slayer of the Bulgy Bears of Biblios and mortal lover of the Kindly Ones, was approached one day by Artemis herself. She begged of him “Great Hero, save my temple from those who would defile it”. And so, gathering his minions about him, did brave Ampelios stride forth to learn of the fate of the hundred virgins who made that place their home.

    Alas, vile satyrs had woven the music of Dionysus into an orgy of debauchery in that once-sacred place. The incomparable Ampelios could withstand these wild magics, but sadly his lowly retainers proved of weaker stuff.

    In order to keep them safe Ampelios led his flunkies to a great swamp, wherein lay the Horn of Athena, which could protect them from the magic of the satyrs. However it was protected by a vile sorceress of Hecate.

    The witch sent wave upon endless wave of serpents against mighty Ampelios, but he bravely hurled them back, rescuing his lackeys and challenging the sorceress. Through the guile and cunning of Ampelios the Astute, the powerful witch was persuaded to waste her powers and succumb to carnal urges with one of Ampelios’ peons and his magical duplicate. Then, with the witch lost in her lustful act Ampelios was able to send one of his gofers to fetch the horn while he brought the building down in flames upon the wicked creature.

    Up she lept, spitting and burning, but brave Ampelios strode forward and impaled her with a mighty thrust of his spear. As she lay there dying the underlings of Ampelios, emboldened by the heroic work of their leader, dashed in to hack gleefully at the creature’s corpse.

    And thus it was that Ampelios the Victorious held aloft the Horn of Athena, and his humble hangers-on fell to their knees and wept at their good fortune to be in the august and glorious presence of one so blessed by the Gods.


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