Disclaimer: No blonde haired Gods of Terror were flattened during the writing of this Chapter, however Deimos did have a 2 dimensional look for the next few days.

(On a hill outside Athens, Eli is giving a speech to a mass of interested Athenians. Near the back of the crowd is Joxer, Jaxi and Autolycus)

"COME ON, SPEAK UP, CAN'T HEAR YOU AT THE BACK!" Jaxi boomed.

"Shhh!" a group of followers hissed at him.

"DON'T YOU SHH! ME! HOW WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SKEWER YOU LOT ON A LONG SPEAR?" Jaxi growled.

"Excuse me, I can't hear Eli up there," a man named Michael complained.

"Shhh!" another man hissed back

"OH COME ON BOY, LET'S GO TO THE WRESTLING," Jaxi urged Joxer.

"We can go to a wrestling match anyday," Joxer countered.

"Eric, don't scratch your arse in public," a woman rebuked the man in plate armour standing next to her.

"I wasn't scratching it, Lila," he argued.

"Yes you were - while you were talking to that gentleman," Lila disputed.

"Do you mind tinman? Can't hear a thing with you clanging away," Autolycus commented.

"Who are you calling tinman?" Eric wanted to know

"Guess," Auto said snarkily. "Who do you think you're going to get mugged by out here exactly? A gang of marauding shepherds perhaps? A viscous horde of farmers sweeping majestically across the plains?"

"Ooh! I think he said something about an orgy," a woman called Carol interjected.

"Did anyone hear who was going to be there?" Michael asked.

"Doesn't sound very religious to me," Joxer remarked.

"Obviously it's not meant to be taken literally," an older man explained, "it refers to any form of entertainment."

"See, if you hadn't been going on, we'd have heard where it was, tinman!" Auto said dismissively.

"Now listen pal, if you don't shut it, I'm going to smack you so hard the wax'll fly out of your ears!" Eric threatened him.

"Yeah? Who do you think you are, Hercules' big brother?" said Auto mockingly.

"Stop picking at your arse!" Lila said, slapping down Eric's arm.

"I wasn't scratching my arse, I was going to flatten him!" Eric said hotly.

"Oh give it a rest would you?" Joxer said wearily.

"Hey, you're not so bad yourself - where you two from? Armourers R US?" Auto said scornfully

"You'll be a piece of armour if you don't cut it out! With the insides hollowed out!" Eric said nastily.

"Did you hear that?" Carol interrupted again. "There's an affray we've all got to be part of."

"YEAH, THAT'S MORE LIKE IT," Jaxi roared approvingly "A GOOD RATTLING WAR CAMPAIGN, WE WANT BLOOD! BLOOD!"

"Oh, it's the Way!" a woman named Zoot amended. "We've all got some purpose in life that we have to fulfill."

"Better listen out tinman, might be a bit about the way of the walking tanks," Auto chuckled.

"Right, I warned you, I really am going to thump you so hard into the middle of next week, you'll need the Kronos stone to recognise what you used to look like!" Eric said losing his temper and swinging a viscious right hook at Auto.

"I say, do you mind piping down a bit? I can't hear - Oof!" the older woman's objections were abruptly ended as she leant forward and received the full force of Eric's fist on her jaw.

A handful of locals joined in and made it a free-for-all, a large scrum of bodies in a tangled mess on the floor.

A bunch of Ares' priests with some 'religious advisers' were marching purposely forward to have a quiet word with Eli to persuade him to either go on a long holiday in Siberia, or a very short holiday in a dungeon, when Auto grabbed one of the priests' shirtsleeves.

The party stopped short, and one of the 'religious advisers' loomed large over Auto.

"Are you trying to stop Ares' priests in their duty?" the man said in a dull monotone, hinting that this was second only to not worshipping Ares as the worst possible thing that anyone looking for a long life could do.

"No, no, Ares' the main man, that's what I always say," Auto laughed nervously.

"Good, because I'd have been ever so upset if you had been," the man continued. "And people who upset me tend to spent a long time at a healers. Some don't leave. Ever. "

"I think I get the point," Auto said carefully. "It's just that I overheard that man there (pointing to Eric in the maul) saying what a big waste of space Ares was and how he was just a big girl's blouse."

"Oh, he did, did he?" one of the priest growled, and motioned the hired muscle into the fight, Auto helpfully pointing out the ones who'd defamed the God of War.

"I'm gonna do you!" Eric hissed at Auto as he was hauled away unceremoniously with the others.

"Like to see you try, Tinman," Auto called after him.

"OH COME ON BOY, LET'S GO TO THE WRESTLING," Jaxi said in a disgusted voice. "I DIDN'T COME OUT HERE TO LISTEN TO SOME BEATNIK!"

"Okay dad," Joxer acquiesced, but paused as a young woman caught his eye as she passed him within a group.

"What Eli's overlooking, is that it's love that's the problem," the leader said firmly, "I mean look at the size of Athens - is love reducing the population problems? I don't think so!"

"You're absolutely right Xena," her blonde companion agreed.

"Thankyou Sister," another of the group chimed in. "Furthermore, I propose the motion that there be a committee to look at the pros and cons of Eli against Aphrodite."

"Seconded," said Xena and the group halted for a show of hands.

"Carried," she said after a quick count and the group moved on again. Joxer gave the young blonde a lingering look, then followed his father to watch the wrestling.

(A salesman tries to grab Jaxi's attention outside the wrestling ring)

"Merchant guise sir?" he said furtively, opening his coat to reveal a selection of drab gowns and head-dresses.

"NO! NAFF OFF!" Jaxi declared, shoving a fist under the salesman's nose by way of a warning.

"But feel the quality of that coat," the salesman persisted. "I tell you without a word of a lie, the goat it didn't fit as well."

"HMMMM, FEELS OKAY, WHAT ABOUT FOR THE SHRIMP?" Jaxi said gruffly, stroking the smooth texture of the coat approvingly and gesturing towards Joxer.

"For him the Deluxe will do nicely," the salesman said after a pause.

"ALRIGHT, MAKE IT TWO MERCHANT GUISES, AND THROW IN TWO OF YOUR 'Holds and Throws Newsletters' IN AS WELL," Jaxi said finally, handing over a few coins in exchange.

"Got a new hold and throw this week too - 'The Boston Crab' and the 'Half-Nelson'," the salesman concluded, pocketing the money and handing two different head-dresses and coats over, the quality one to Jaxus, another to Joxer.

"Ick! This coat itches something chronic," Joxer complained. "And why aren't Warlords and their family allowed to participate in wrestling matches?"

"SHUT UP AND PUT THE TURBAN AND COAT ON," his father ordered him. "BECAUSE THE GODS SAID SO, THAT'S WHY!"

(Another warlord passes by, heavy-laden with his camel on his back).

"Merchant guise sir?" the salesman asks surreptitiously

"Haven't got time, Fido's sick again!" the Warlord said brusquely, as he staggered past under the weight of the armoured camel.

(The Master of Ceremonies bounds into the ring, it's Deimos)

"Okay mortals, time to Rrrrrrrrr-umble! Soo, Leeeeee-t's hear it for the first contestant, er victim!"

(A man's thrown into the ring and the crowd get ready to rush him)

"Whoa, there guys! Chill out! Plenty of time to turn him into a mosaic yet!" said the God with his customary giggle and holding the crowd back with a wave of his hand. "And the first contestant on the matinee performance is Perdicus - A HERETIC!"

(crowd hisses and boos)

"Look, all I was doing was drinking in the tavern up the road and I said this ale's better than Olympus could make - " Perdicus protested.

"Ah, ah, no interruptions, P-Man!" Deimos said firmly, turning his mouth into a zip and shutting it. "Let's look at the latest S.P."

(a slate appears from nowhere with the latest odds on Perdicus)

"Oh-oh! Not good odds! The mob's Evens favourites, you're 1, 000,000 - 1!" the God said, reading from the slate. "Still, David beat Goliath!"

(A roar from the crowd goes up, with various calls of death ringing round)

"Burn him!" "Skewer him!" "Behead him!" "Hang, draw and quarter him!" "Boil him alive!"

Deimos looks at the crowd, searching warily. "Are there any Warlords here?"

(Various mutterings from the crowd)

"Not me!" " Get your silks here!" "Nope!" " Camels and Warhorses, one careful owner!"

"Oh goody! We don't want no professionals when amateurs can prove so much more amusing!" Deimos said, wringing his hands with glee. "Now where was I? Oh yes, as a HERETIC, you are sentenced to death by smothering, broken bones, gashing wounds, and - "

"First offence?" Perdicus said hopefully, opening the zip on his mouth.

"Well Perd, old buddy, we find generally there is no second offence," Deimos said casually, drooping his arm around the 'contestant'.

"I don't think it should be Heresy for saying Olympian ale sucks - what about fairly unwise or lack of judgement?" Perdicas pointed out

"Don't! You're only making it worse for yourself!" the God of Terror lectured him, wagging a finger at him.

"Worse? How could it be worse?" the contestant protested and gave Olympus a two finger salute. "Olympus sucks! The Gods are over-rated mortals! Tartarus and the Elysian fields don't exist! Owww!"

His tirade was halted by a flying kick to his back, knocking him over onto the floor of the wrestling ring. "Hey! We haven't even started yet!" Perdicas shouted angrily, picking himself up from the floor.

"Right! Who did that? Come on own up!" Deimos said testily.

(a man is pushed forward from the throng)

"Was it you?" the God questioned him.

"Yes."

"Why'd you do it?" Deimos barked.

"Well, he did say that the Elysian Fields don't exist -"

(The crowd scream in disapproval and jump on top of him, pummelling him to the ground and trying to tear his limbs off, halted by Deimos stopping the wrestling, by charging in and throwing a few energy bolts at the crowd.)

"Hey, hey, Hey! You're ruining my fun!" the God said petulantly. "Just for that, no mortal is to start wrestling until I fire an energy bolt, not even, and I want to make this absolutely clear, if they do say the Elysian Fields don't exist -"

(As one, the entire mob piled on Deimos and buried him in a sea of bodies, Godly joints creaking as they were twisted every which way, and someone kicking Deimos for good measure, turning his snarled protests into a high-pitched squeak; the sound of the trees being parted and being trampled on wasn't heard, but the sight of a giant heading their way broke up the ruck of wrestlers and wrestlees in record time, allowing a very annoyed Deimos to stand up briefly in protest, before he was trampled into the earth, leaving a Deimos-shaped dent in the turf)

"Oops, sorry about that," Typhon called down, but was greeted by a round of applause from the crowd.

"Good step," one commented as a hollow thumping could be heard from beneath the ground.

"SAME TIME NEXT WEEK PERD?" Jaxi called out as he collected the winnings from the hapless bookie.

"No probs Jax, everyone knows the Gods have the memoryspan of a goldfish when it comes to Mortals!" Perdicas laughed.

The crowd quickly dispersed, leaving Typhon and a disconsolate bookie peering at the ground.

"Is he alright down there?" Typhon asked the man.

"Him? Ha! He's a God, let him look after himself, I've got enough worries of my own!" the bookie said grouchily, then slumped off, muttering dark threats of revenge on the ring who'd pulled a fast one on him. Typhon shrugged and tramped down the road to Corinth, not hearing the muffled thumping and appeals for help from underground.

"COME ON BOY, DON'T DAWDLE!" Jaxi shouted at Joxer as he slouched behind, then groaned as he saw a nimble beggar limber up to them.

"Alms for an ex-leper?" the beggar petitioned the Warlord.

"NO!" Jaxi said firmly.

"Pity the poor, sir, alms for an ex-leper?"

"HOW WOULD YOU LIKE YOUR NOSE AS A FILLING OF A BUTTOCK SANDWICH?" Jaxi threatened.

"Sweet charity sir? Alms for an ex-leper?" the gambolling ex-leper appealed.

"CHARITY BEGINS AT HOME AND THAT'S EXACTLY WHERE IT'S STAYING," Jaxi said with feeling. "NOW PISS OFF!"

"Alms for an ex-leper sir?" the beggar asked Joxer, capering round him.

"No! Go away!" Joxer said roughly.

"Pity for the poor sir?" the beggar persisted.

"NOW LOOK," Jaxi growled, " HE'S NOT GIVING YOU ANY MONEY, SO YOU CAN JUST GO AWAY!"

"Did you say an EX-leper?" Joxer said in puzzlement.

"Yes sir, cured sir, bloody miracle, pardon my Gallic," the beggar said enthusiastically.

"Who cured you?" Joxer asked out of curiosity.

"Eli did, sir, comes up to me and says 'You're cured mate' without so much as an excuse me and that's my livelihood gone!"

"Tell you what," Joxer said thoughtfully, "you become a beggar with status and I'll give you some cash."

"How d'ya mean, sir, status?" the ex-leper queried.

"Well, you're a beggar, but you've got no pulling power with the punters," Joxer explained. "Now if you had an ear missing or a limp or something, you could get the sympathy vote and coin it in, so to speak."

"Well, I could do that sir, that's an idea that is, I'll give that a whirl," the beggar acquiesced and legged it.

"COME ON BOY, NEVER MIND THE RIFF-RAFF, GET IN YOUR ROOM AND TIDY IT UP!" Jaxi ordered him, knocking the door open with a hefty kick from his size 16 boot.

The father and son entered the house and were greeted by the sight of Discord appearing in front of them, leaning suggestively by the fireplace. Joxer took one look at the Goddess and angrily pulled his father to one side. "What's she doing here?"

"WELL, IT'S JUST AN ARRANGEMENT WE HAVE, TO PAY OFF A FEW DEBTS HERE AND THERE," Jaxi mumbled.

"What do you mean? We don't owe the Gods anything!" Joxer hissed.

"WEEEELL, THAT'S NOT STRICTLY TRUE," Jaxi began slowly, "I SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU AGES AGO , BUT, WELL, YOUR MOTHER , SHE WASN'T Mrs. THEODOPHALUS!"

"I never thought she was!" Joxer snorted.

"OI, NONE OF YOUR LIP!" Jaxi said sharply. "SHE WAS A GODDESS! SO NEXT TIME YOU SLAG OFF THE GODS, REMEMBER YOU'RE ONE OF THEM!"

"You mean you-you were just a roll in the hay to some Goddess who fancied a bit of rough?" Joxer said in disbelief.

"WELL, AT FIRST," his father admitted, "BUT IT BECAME SOMETHING DEEPER THAN THAT. MARAMASTOS, HER NAME WAS. PROMISED ME THE KNOWN WORLD SHE DID. FIXED UP A DEAL WITH ARES WHEN I WAS JUST STARTING OUT AS A WARLORD. THEN SHE DROPPED ME LIKE A BAD HABIT! SO IF IT WASN'T FOR HER, WE WOULDN'T HAVE ALL THIS!"

"I'm not a Demi-God!" Joxer cried out. "I'm a mortal, a man, a hume, I'm not a God and I never will be!"

Jaxi watched idly as the door slammed shut with a crump, breaking off bits of plaster, then turned his attention back to Discord with a wolfish smile. "KIDS TODAY, EH? INGRATES, THE LOT OF THEM! SO, DISCORD, COME TO CHECK OUT MY SWORD AGAIN?"

(Discord raised her eyebrows appreciatively, then licked her lips in anticipation)

In a dark alley in Athens, Perdicas and his comrades are counting out the cash from the wrestling bout, when a Godly presence announces itself with a burst of flame lighting the badly lit street up in an instant.

"So," said Ares casually, a flicker of energy sizzling on his fingertips, "we're over-rated mortals, are we?"

"Well, um, you know when I said that, I didn't really mean that, you see, erm," Perdicas said hesitantly with what he hoped was an ingratiating smile.

"Memory of a goldfish, huh? - well, now he's an over-rated Mortal," Ares said, ignoring the plea for mercy, and turning one of them into an ash mural on the wall opposite. "Or should I say an over-heated mortal!" he added with a hearty guffaw, looking like a dog eyes a bone at his four comrades.

The others looked at each other quickly, then back again at Ares. Having no weapons was a handicap, but having any weapon, other than a hind's blood dagger wouldn't help either.

"Tell you what," Ares said in a bored tone, spotting an untended fruitcart, "you attack me with a piece of fruit and get a hit on me, and I'll let you off with a warning."

One of the men shrugged, picked up a banana and charged forward with a blood-curdling yell, only to be flattened by a 100tonne weight landing on him with a squelch, clanging loudly as it hit the stone floor.

"Next!" Ares called out, leaning casually against a tree.

"Hey! That's not fair, how can we get near you if you drop weights on us from a great height?" one of the men protested.

"Ok, no more weights - now let's see that killer instinct!" Ares urged, and one of them duly obliged, picking up a strawberry and charging forward with a deafening warcry. A man-eating tiger appeared and leapt at the charging man, slamming him against a wall, the claws ripping open the chest.

"What's the point in going mano-a-mano if you're going to keep using your powers against us?" a man grumbled, the others slowly edging away.

"Alright I promise, no more of my powers against you," the WarGod sighed. "Bring on that viscious half of guava fruit, let's be having you!"

Another of the now-depleted gang grabbed a guava fruit and leapt forward in a series of impressive somersaults and cartwheels, coming to a halt in front of Ares, guava fruit outstretched, after Ares seemingly missed him with a couple of swipes of his Sword of Power.

"Ha! Missed him!" Perdicas gloated., then Ares blew at the man in front of him and both fruit and man neatly split in half and falling to the ground.

Ares broad smile was knocked off when an apple hit him squarely on the jaw, followed by a volley of oranges peppering him all over the body. "I win, Ares!" the fruit thrower said triumphantly. "You never said we couldn't throw the fruit!"

"Never said you could either," Ares said tetchily, and a trapdoor appeared beneath the man as he walked away, swallowing him into a wall of flame.

"Hey Unc, they've buggered off!" Deimos said in annoyance, appearing as if on cue.

"No they haven't," Ares said wearily, rolling his eyes and giving a Deimos a cuff to the head, sending him sprawling across the floor "They've just hidden themselves. Now watch and learn. (God of Terror! Hah!)" Ares muttered under his breath.

Ares went up to a solitary large urn and cleared his throat noisily; "Atko, will you stand up?"

(The man inside stands up and is promptly blasted to smithereens)

"The first lesson of concealment - never reveal your position," Ares said firmly.

Deimos grinned at the shattered vase and looked hopefully "Hey Unc, can I do this one? Huh? Huh?"

"Yeah, what-ever!" Ares sighed, gesturing towards the next solitary urn.

"Oh goody! Time to let rip!" Deimos said with a snicker.

"Just get on with it, Deimos," Ares said, stifling a yawn.

"*Ahem!* Rubic, stand up!" Deimos said dramatically, then looked bemused when nothing happened.

"Strife, come back, all is forgiven!" Ares cried with a look of contempt at his blonde nephew.

"This mortal has learnt the first lesson of concealment, but he has forgotten the second lesson, that of being an obvious choice of target," Ares pointed out, then threw a lightning bolt at the vase, exploding it on impact, leaving no trace of its previously intact inhabitant.

"Perdicas, stand up please," Ares called out to a group of three urns, with no result. "This mortal is more devious - not only has he learnt the art of concealment, but he has given us a choice."

(The left urn explodes to no effect, then the right also, but the third throws up a pair of smoking shoes, followed by a slightly burnt blue waistcoat fluttering down)

"What's this?" Ares muttered, reading the label. " 'Made from Pine resin, near Oslo' - Ah, so it's a Norse Blue, pine in from the fjords."

"It is an ex-Perdicas, it has ceased to be," Deimos cackled and both Gods vanished.

...More coming soon!

Please take the time to write to Jerry at studmuffin_jer@yahoo.com, and let him know how you like the story so far!

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER:
Xena: Warrior Princess, Joxer, Jett, Jace, Autolycus, Aphrodite, and all other characters who have appeared in the series, together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of StudiosUSA and Renaissance Pictures. "The Life of Brian" is © by Monty Python and Handmade Films. The characters of Jaxi and Solos, and all crowd cameos, were created by the author for use in this fiction. No infringement of copyrights or trademarks is intended in the writing of this fan fiction. This story is copyright © 2000 by Jerry Hendy and is his sole property along with the story idea. This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use only and must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.