Long, long, ago, down the twisted stream of time, there was a town. A town that is now ruled by moss and ivy. Once, this village was unseen; unheard of even. But little did it know that one of it’s sons would soon make it very well known indeed.

In this town lived a poor yet humble man who went by the name of Nikkos. Nikkos was always very kind and considerate and loved entertaing the childeren in his village. He would constantly be putting on puppet shows for them. Through these shows, Nikkos taught the kids about their culture, history and religion. Furthermore, he encouraged them to worship the gods. Nikkos would would always put aside part of his day so he could pray. He would thank the gods and ask them for success.

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ASTRIDES THE WARRIOR

Many battles ago, in the great city of Athens, there was an army of great fighters. One in particular: Astrides. He was one of their greatest fighters, respected by all. Everyone looked up to him, every single person in Athens wanted to be like him. No one was known not to want to be like Astrides.

He would do anything he could for his city: he would kill all the evil beasts, he would protect the civilians and would never forget to sacrifice offerings to the gods. They would give him good luck for the day. The gods he could never get off his mind were Athena and Ares: the war gods.

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When you travel down the long stream of time, you come to the serine island of Crete, where a young playwright named Syungrafeas was born. Syungrafeas grew up as a religious man and a playwright, not many people had heard of, for now.

Syngrafeas once wrote an inspiring play of what to do and what not to do for children. Millions of citizens came to watch this play and Syngrafeas let them all in for free.

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Many moons ago in a town now covered by time, there lived a humble warrior named Kostas. Kostas was a kind man with a lion’s courage and strength as large as the gods.

When he was not in battle, Kostas would often spend his spare time teaching the young about the gods. Kostas was the best warrior Marinoz –the town he called home- had ever seen or heard of. He won every single battle he went into coming out with soldiers surrounding him.

What Kostas didn’t know that it wouldn’t be a battle that would kill him.

Kostas awoke in the night screams around him. He slipped on his old clothes and headed outside, thanking the gods he had not been harmed. He stared out across the town he once called home. Wooden houses were strewn across the land leaving citizens begging for the gods. Continue reading Kostas the Warrior →