<div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v252/HlySd/HotMenChart_Michael_Churchill_11-1-1-1.jpg)</div><strong>Name/Alias</strong>: John Aaron / Ares<br/><strong>Origin</strong>: Olympus<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Ares’s Bedroom<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: No one<br/><hr/><br/><br/>The noise began with enraged shouts that stirred John to roll over…<br/><br/><strong>Bad dog! Doggy pees on the paper!...Ok you little fuck, its on!</strong><br/><br/>He dragged the pillow over his head and folded his arm over it to press it against his ear, but the rustling was getting worse.<br/><br/><strong>Don’t taunt me you little fuck! Don’t you EVER fucking taunt me again!</strong><br/><br/>John sat up. There were bags beneath his red eyes, and as the fighting continued it sounded like a ferocious beast had magically appeared next door. A heavy frown fell over John’s face as he sat in the darkness of his room, waiting to see if he’d ease back to sleep. His eyes slowly closed and he felt his balance wobble. He was falling right back to sleep.<br/><br/><strong>Gonna show you not to piss on my door…What the hell is going on here!?</strong><br/><br/>John’s eyes snapped open again. There was no way he was going to get any sleep with the ruckus that was going on in the hallway. So what was a cranky God of War like when roused from his dreams?<br/><br/>The hearth had reawakened in response to the god’s disturbance. John had retrieved his ax from the door and had dragged a wooden chair before the fireplace. He set the ax head upon its back and set his foot upon the seat with his knee just beneath the ax’s arm to prop it. With a sharpening stone clutched in his hand, he began dragging it along the ax’s curved edge. The hiss it made upon contact with his steel got his blood pumping. His strokes became more vigorous until orange sparks flecked free. Someone(s)…was going to pay.