You are the mighty God of War, Bruskor. You are the eldest son of Ordin and Camenae. You have spent years raising armies and championing heroes or creating villains. In truth, your very nature makes you more of an antihero. You are also one of the strongest Gods in the pantheon. You normally spend all your time training and adding more muscle onto your gigantic frame.
You were currently enjoying your reflection as you flex your muscles. You grin as you flex your massive and hairy arms and flex your huge pectorals. You are what most women called macho. Any goddess or mortal woman would make out with a heavily muscled and hairy hunk like you in no time. You even have tons of kids to prove it, yet the demigods you fathered have moved to the nation of Patrinor after stopped mentoring at age eighteen.
Still you were on pretty good term with your kids and would sometimes conduct war meetings on whether you intervene in a war or not. Lately, you have been debating on whether you should interfere with your parents' never ending feud or to sit back and watch.
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