Laverne
At the highest peak of Ares Heights lies the Forge of Ares - a legendary smithy where divine weapons are forged for the gods. Skilled blacksmiths, blessed by Ares himself, work tirelessly to create weapons imbued with godly power. The rhythmic clang of hammers striking anvils reverberates through the heights, symbolizing ceaseless preparation for battles to come.
Sherry
Word didn't have to get around quickly about Ares' son, Citro. The boy screamed it violently, and had caused a ruckus to a mortal sized calamity. It wasn't much of a secret to any God that the boy was ill equipped to harness the helm of his father. Where there was adversity, there was opportunity, and Alastor hadn't been on perfect terms with Ares' too loud, and boisterous nature, on his end anyways. Whether or not Ares knew that wasn't much of Alastor's problem. There was always someone who didn't like somebody. Rather, the issue was his overt negligence towards Citro. Not that the God was any type of father figure, but he was a God who leveraged the mistakes of others over their heads so they would have no other choice than to suffer from their consequences. It was his favorite game.~ 
Alastor didn't need time to think about who he was going to talk to, to tell him more about Ares' helm. He knew who made it. Hephaestus. The Forge master and brother to Ares. Another ill concluded situation that Ares had to know he was not above retribution for. 

Alastor, in his sauve and sleek modern outfit phased out darkness nearby. It was nighttime, the perfect time for him to travel and move; when other Olympians were exhausted from their days and ready to calm down, the night time had the opposite effect on Alastor. He was energetic and giddy with mischief. Like a poltergeist after someone found it's cursed item, he was on the prowl. Sliding his body against the doorframe of the entrance of the Forge, bright eyes landed on the red hot iron on the anvil. The heavy slam of the God's hammer willed the metal into shape, whether It wanted to or not. 

**"You work much too late in the day. Don't you ever relax, Heph?"** Alastor asked, knowing he sounded like the collective of those who berated the old Forge master for rarely taking a break. He waited for him to look up, as his presence was to be seen less as an intrusion, and more as a queue to take a seat. 

Alastor was never in a

Ny rush when it came to his visits, and it was common for some Gods to see him once a week, if not more. It had been awhile, maybe two weeks at best, since he'd seen Hephaestus. The burning mouth of the forge lay open, empty, but ready to be fed the item the other was working on in the next round of heating - obedient, and patient. The warmth caressed his arms, and invited him in further from his current position, and he listened. Alastor stepped further inside, moving closer to the furnace, and closer to Heph. He found a stool nearby and welcomed himself to sit in it. His gaze studied the shape of the item he was forging, before flicking up to his face.
Leonard
Though possessing godly powers and abilities beyond human comprehension, Hephaestus was all too aware of the cruel irony of his situation. Not only had the fates bestowed him with divine status, but they also cursed him with a broken and flawed body. This made him the subject of ridicule among his fellow gods, who largely looked down on him due to his physical limitations. 

His physical disability made him an outcast, even to his own flesh and blood family for the most part. It had been that way for as long as Hephaestus could remember, and in a sad, twisted way it was comforting, that familiarity. He knew it and what to expect and over the millennia had almost grown numb to it... Almost. It was a daily struggle against the pain, physical and mental, that the fates had dealt him, determined to prove himself despite his apparent limitations. He was tired of being the punching bag and just taking the blows that always seemed to be falling his way. He had more to fight back for now. He had a daughter. He had a reason to finally stand up for himself, or at least start trying to. 

Baby steps. They were still steps at least... That evening the sound of metal being coaxed into shape echoed throughout stonework forge, and it calmed him in a way nothing else did. It was just him, his thoughts, and the pieces he worked so tirelessly on. This was where he belonged - not scheming or plotting like many others of his family. No, he was content with his work, creating masterpieces that would outlive them all and be around perhaps even after their initial purpose was fulfilled. It was then a voice cut through the depths of his thoughts and pulled him from the near trance he was in as he worked. 

"You work much too late in the day. Don't you ever relax, Heph?"

A small, genuine smile tugged on the corners of the god's mouth as he heard the familiar voice. Alastor, always one to come and check on him, which Hephaestus would likely never let on about how much that simple gesture meant to him. He watched with a mixture of gratitude and admiration as the god claimed his usual seat by the forge, the bright flames reflecting keenly in his eyes. As he glanced at his work in progress, Hephaestus couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the progress he had made so far. 

The rhythmic crackling of embers echoed through the cavernous workshop, creating a comforting backdrop for their conversation. "Ah, you know me," Hephaestus chuckled as he wiped his hands on a cloth, "Better to keep the hands and brain busy than let them idle and wander for too long." He gave his friend a warm smile, grateful for the company and conversation. With a glance around the forge, realizing how dim everything was outside the glow of the forge, Hephaestus confidently reached over and plucked out a glowing ember with his bare hands. The intense heat had no effect on him, handing the smoldering coal with the ease and strength of a true god of fire and forges. A serene grin spread across his face as he strolled over to the iron lantern hanging near where Alastor had seated himself. 

Showing off? Maybe a little. It was his one guilty pleasure, showing off his power and control over the flames he was so innately connected to. With practiced precision, he lowered the glowing ember into its designated spot, watching as the flame ignited and cast a warm glow throughout the workshop.

The crackling of burning wood chips in the base and the pungent smell of molten metal filled the air, a familiar scent that Hephaestus found comfort in as he turned and looked towards his visitor. The thin whisps of smoke seemed to weave around him, surrounding him like a warm embrace from an old friend. He could feel the heat radiating from the forge, beckoning him back to come and create... But he had other business to attend to. "What brings you to the forge this late my shadowy friend? If you are here about your piece, it is finished and ready for you" Hephaestus said, a grin spreading over his face as he nodded towards the work bench. 

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Sherry
Alastor listened to Hephaestus' reply of keeping his "Brain and hands busy". That was more than Alastor did on a daily basis. Rarely were his hands tied up in work, but he supposed where he lacked for action, he made up for in sweet words and scheming. The God watched as the Forge Master brought the coal with his bare hands to the lantern nearby and was always amazed when he did so. Once, early on, Alastor had tried to do the same, but he ended up scorching his fingertips immediately. It was obvious that he did not possess the same abilities that Heph did and he respected him all the more for it. That is all to say that Alastor never tried to tempt the flames of the forge again. It had been centuries since that time, and only through out the eras had the two Gods become familiar with one another. A friendship formed, and now, there was little to separate the fondness that Alastor held towards Heph so dearly. He didn't ask for all of this shit that happened to him. Not the state of his body, or the incident with Aphrodite and Ares. If Heph wanted to create his own Retribution, he needed to start throwing that hammer of his at people's heads. 
Fucking idiots. 

Alastor did recognize that the man did have a soft heart, however. He could be too docile at times, and Alastor enjoyed casting shadows of the others who wronged him... As a reminder.~ 

**"That I am. Though, that's not the only reason I am here.~"** Alastor leaned himself against a pole, folding his arms over his chest to relax more fully. 
**"I have been witnessing some stirring amongst the demigods as of late, and in particular... Your nephews."** Alastor jumped right into the topic. There was a mess that needed to be cleaned up. "The blonde one, Citro. The hothead has gifted his helm to him, and he is unable to control it. I have seen it and it is truly a sad sight." Alastor's tone was filled with pity, like a southerner's "Bless your heart". 

**"To be frank, the child is too weak hearted to handle the eff

Ects of the helm. I'm sure you'd agree. And Ares is too absent to teach him. He's never been that good of a stand-up comedian to land the joke of making his children "Useful." I'm disgusted at his lack of... Anything."** Alastor believed that Ares was well past due for the consequences for all of his actions. 

This was just the third strike. 
**"And I have a proposition for you.~"** The God of Retribution gave Hephaestus a charming smile, one that hid venom in his mouth.
Leonard
Hephaestus' expression grew somber as he listened to Alastor, his mind heavy with the same worries and concerns his friend was expressing. Ares. The idiot brother who was far too brash and arrogant for his own good... Even as the God of War his cruelty seemed to know no end. And it was poor Citro who was bearing the brunt of it now. 

"My brother is a fool, running on fools errands half the time" Hephaestus said shaking his head. "He only cares about those he can shape and use as tools in his endless war games. Of all the sons, Citro should have been the last one to get his father's helmet." 

There was a darkness behind the forge master's eyes as he looked into the glowing embers of the flames, the golden lights reflecting in his eyes as he did. "I've regretted the day I finished that helmet ever since Ares first wore it," He said with a heavy sigh. "Had I known then what Ares had planned, just how far this war would go, and what extremes he would go to for his petty revenge... I would never have made it in the first place." 

The forge master's hand gripped the handle of his cane tightly, knuckles white with the strain. He remembered that day like it was yesterday - Ares striding into his workshop, his eyes ablaze with passion and ambition.

** "Hephaestus," He'd growled out, "I need your help with something." The way he said it sent shivers down Hephaestus' spine; there was an urgency to those words that just couldn't be ignored. It was rare for Ares to approach him for anything directly, so Hephaestus knew it must be something Ares considered personal and important for him to come to the forge himself. "I need you to craft a helmet that will enhance my powers," He had continued. "Something that will make me unstoppable on the battlefield." 

The god of craftsmanship had been hesitant at first; he knew well enough what kind of destruction Ares was capable of with just his bare hands and regular weapons. Yet, the thought of proving his worth to his brother was a powerful motivator, as was the unspoken threat he had seen in his brother's eyes. And so Hephaestus had set to work. Days turned into weeks as he poured all of his skill and knowledge into creating the perfect artifact - a gleaming helmet covered in intricate designs that seemed to shift and move with the changing light. 

Ares of course had been thrilled with the helmet and his first act of testing its power was to take a swing at his brother. He should have expected it, considering it was Ares, and he was always his brother's favorite punching bag. But it had still caught Hephaestus off guard and he had carried the insulting bruise on his face for longer than he had wished. But it was just the first of many outbursts that would come the first of many acts of violence done by his brother. And every time Hephaestus witnesses his brother in action there was that feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had helped make Ares that much more powerful... **

As the crackle of the embers in the forge echoed in the now eerily quiet forge, Hephaestus was drawn out from his memories. He turned and gave a somewhat apologetic smile to Alastor."What is this proposition you speak of?" He asked as he shifted slightly, leaning more towards his friend as he rested his arms over the top of his cane. "You definitely have my attention."

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Sherry
Alastor watched the older God with interest, his head tilting gently to one side as he spoke of the war and creating Ares' helm. There was some other look that couldn't be placed that pulled the corner of his mouth to tuck into his cheek in a press more than a tug. 
Unconvinced, he was, perhaps, that Hephaestus would have dared say "No" To Ares' request of the helmet. 

**"Dwelling on hindsight is the folly of mortals,"** He began, giving grace for the forge master to separate himself from his woes and speaking as it was below them. Nothing against the mortal man, but it was a harsh hierarchy that Alastor couldn't ignore. Once the god of curses was pressed for more information, he smirked. 

**"I plan on getting onto the boy's good side, and convince him that in his father's absence, that I can and would be there to support him. Help him learn how to control himself outside of the helmet, become stronger without it. I want to bring him to you, you can take the thing, and do what you wish. In the meantime, I will be coaxing him to join Athena. Ares' will be furious - or find it all amusing."** 
Ares was a different God in his older age, less explosive than he once was, and a little harder to read. 

**"His time for consequence has been long overdue, although I can't say for certain that this will spite him completely. He does have two sons afterall, and taking the weaker one might not be enough."** Alastor was willing to find the flaws in his plan, and be realistic about several outcomes. He wanted Ares to feel the sting of Citro's abandonment. 

**"His sons are his pride and joy, are they not?"** He asked Heph, looking at him expectantly for more perspective on whether or not they were all close regardless of Ares' parenting style.
Leonard
The words dripped from Hephaestus' lips like venom, each one laced with the cold disregard he held for his brother. "Any care or attention Ares gives to his sons is to further his games and improve his position and power" Hephaestus said coldly. "Him essentially kidnapping and then championing his own son shows how egotistical he is. And giving Citro his helmet with nary a care for his training or abilities speaks to his desire for power at any cost. His sons are his pride and joy so long as they are fitting his mold and his goals. They are merely pawns in his game, meant to fulfill his desires and mold to his goals."

Hephaestus leaned back against the cool, rough stone wall of his workshop, his large hands absentmindedly tracing the intricate engravings on his cane. Memories flooded his mind. "When he told me about Douglas I tried to talk him out of his crazy plan. Begged him to let the boy have as much of a normal life as he could, at least at the start. Of course Ares couldn't be swayed from his plans. And he never even mentioned Citro till the day the boy arrives here and his give the child his helmet." 

Hephaestus shook his head in disbelief at how quickly things had unfolded. The weight of regret hung heavy in his voice as he continued, "I should have tried harder to reason with Ares. Perhaps things would be different if I had." A disgusted look stood on his face as the shadows and light form the glowing embers danced over his features. "For all his brilliance and strategy my brother can be a fool."

Shaking his head slightly he focused his attention back to his friend. "But this plan of yours... I agree that Ares needs to be taken down a peg. He's been allowed to run unchecked for far too long, and I know that part of that is on me for all these millennia not standing up to him more. But he's going too far this time between Douglas and Citro. I fear it will take a lot to begin to undo the hold he has on his elder son. Even Citro has been brainwashed by his father after all these years. But there is still hope for young Citro I believe... The helmet needs to be destroyed. Or at the very least it needs to 'disappear' for a time" Hephaestus said as he gave Alastor a knowing nod.

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Sherry
Alastor sat still, listening to the words that Hephaestus nearly smelted. It was also the Vengeful God's train of thought as well. He continued to listen intently on what the forge master knew, as it was much more personal than his own accounts. It didn't make his own perspective inaccurate. Instead, it solidified his plan, and only pointed a large neon sign to Ares indiscriminate way of bolstering forces. 
It was always without a lack of care.

Alastor's lips pulled down when the other man began to berate himself. He held up a hand to stop him. 

**"Little of this is any of your fault, and I will not condone another word come from your lips that it a slight against yourself. You have done more than was ever enough or necessary."**
The next sentence was a mummbled *"Other than cast your hammer across his stupid head.'* 

**"I digress. You have the right idea. We need to have the boys switch sides somehow, and I think I have a few ideas. Though, I will have to start gaining their trust, first and foremost. 
As much as I'd wave having the honor of knowing you in their face, their lack of respect in that regard is not something I wish to rub salt into. For your sake."** 
Alastor gave Hephaestus a genuine smirk. 

**"I do not want to take up too much of the time you should be *Resting*,"** There was emphasis on the word, as the God of Revenge was trying to emphasis what would be more preferred. 
**"I merely wanted to know if you were on board with such a thing. I trust you wholly, and completely."**

Alastor stood then, looking over at the table where Hephaestus had once motioned to, in order to put on his new accessories. 
He slipped them on with ease and the power that encompassed him was gratifying. There was a peculiar aura of silence that shrouded him, catlike in his steps. 

**"Oh, Hephaestus.~"** Alastor purred his name.
**"I believe you have outdone yourself.~"**
Leonard
"Yes," Hephaestus finally declared, his voice resonating with a newfound resolve that seemed to chase away the shadows clinging to the corners of his workshop. "This war has indeed become a bottomless pit it seems, swallowing up gods, demigods, and mortals alike. We cannot allow it to continue unchecked; too much blood has been spilled on whims of my brother and the rest. Your strategy is sound," He continued. "The war has indeed taken too much from us all, and if swaying Douglas and Citro to our cause will bring about a measure of peace, then I am with you. They could potentially hold great sway among the younger demigods. If we manage to win them over, we may yet be able to stem the bloodshed and find a way to end the war."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Hephaestus' mouth as he addressed the thinly veiled suggestion that he should be resting more. "I will rest my friend. I give you my word. I actually have a fairly empty plate for the next few days now that your bracers are done. So you can rest assured, dear Alastor, I plan to take it easy the next few days as much as I can." The smile would widen slightly as Heph watched Alastor try on the new accessories. He watched with an eye of a craftsman admiring his finished work and the pride of a friend, his heart swelling with gratification at Alastor's approval.

The bracers were not mere ornaments but tools designed to help protect his friend. They were designed to augment Alastor's strength and cunning, gifts befitting the God of Revenge, who would surely need every advantage in war that was looming larger and larger before them. "I am glad you like them- and I trust you to use them well" Hephaestus said with a nod of thanks eve as the praise from his friend seemed to lighten the weight he had been carrying a little lighter. 

"We will speak of Douglas, Citro, and the war at a later time, but for now... Let us enjoy the rest of the evening as we once did. With a good drink and talk of something other than the war." The war would still be there in the morning. One night would do little in the grand scheme of things. But it would be the reprieve that perhaps both of the gods needed the most.