Countless Titans, Demons and Monsters have been thrown into Tartarus—their vile natures condemning them to the dark depths. They are cut off from the Elysian Fields, and will never know the endless joy and serenity that the just and goodhearted souls have been rewarded for their endeavors in life.
Sure, there are the unjust and depraved souls here too in the Underworld. They endure their punishments on the border between Tartarus and the Realm of Paradise. Even these souls, however, are far enough away from either. The laughter, music and whimsy of Happiness—or, by contrast, the wallowing, terrifying wails and anguish of Damnation—are only heard if the conditions are right. But such souls will seldom hear any noises other than what they themselves make. They are in their own hell, their own self-induced tortures … their selfish natures granting them some relief in the afterlife.
But some souls are not granted such mercy. What they have done in life is too terrible, too unforgivable. Too abominable. They are the ones to be feared, to be loathed, and to be held as pariahs for future generations to judge and scorn. While some of these souls are still hidden away—their forms and punishments too unpleasant for those to enjoy a proper Paradise—they are still forced to hear both the torture of the cursed and the laughter of the blissful.
Then again, some souls are meant to be seen. Some are used as constant reminders of what they had done to anger the Gods … For in the Sky of the Underworld and for all to see, one such soul has been on a flaming wheel for eons. Snakes not only bind him to it but also lash out at him with venom-soaked jaws. He is meant to be in constant torment; however, even as the fire burns at his dead skin, even as the snakes inject him with burning poison, one desire has kept him defiant…
He wants to set the world on fire. Kill EVERYTHING in it!
Then … despite the Underworld having been sealed away from the rest of the world for millennia … he gets free.
Thank you for the consideration … We do apologize for the bawdy language—the author insists that it is necessary for both context and plot. We figure that he’s just doing it because he uses F-bombs for punctuation in his daily life, and believes everyone, for some reason, speaks that way. Also, since we’re an Indie-house … C’est la vie…
Hmm, French … well, that does bring up another topic: Not all of the characters in this book actually speak English. However, instead of writing a good chunk of dialogue in ancient languages as LB wanted to, we decided that it would be easier for the reader if we provided the best English equivalent … unless the story necessitated an ancient or foreign word here or there.
Welcome to Ixion, the First Book of Of Monsters, Gods and Heroes…
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L.B. Sisk works as a Director of Marketing for a robotics company, which supplies analytical systems for clients in medical, environmental and government laboratories. Sure, you’d think developing marketing collateral for sophisticated robots would be fun; however, when they’re boring and benefit Humanity … Blah. Blah. Blah. Therefore, by night, he aspires to share his twisted imagination with like-minded folk. He lives in the Portland, Oregon, which, according to some vagabond he met in Barstow, CA, is a beautiful, fantasy land of unlimited strip clubs and craft breweries. What more could you ask for?