"Vanity has brought more virtues to an untimely end than any other vice." --Anonymous

"Why, he has the looks of a God!

A tall, gaunt skeleton; bleached by the cloudless skies of Olympus, and bejeweled by the deity himself. From head to toe, Aesop's every last extention is gilded and gaudily encrusted with the most valuable of gems, jewels, and other valuables of all of Greece. (Exceptions lie, however, as Aesop's skull is a most distinct sterling silver; a device perhaps to distract attention away from his golden extremities, and unto his sunken visage.) Within his eyesockets, live two snakes, sentient as he. Both his eyes and the last shreds of conscience left within him, both regularly converse with the brazen god; trying to stave off his brash, bitter actions and despicable behaviors.

"And So Richly Decorated Too!"

Upon Aesop's bony temple rests a flashy, polished bronze crown: a malevolent majesty said to have been crafted from the very first of the brazen bulls that would soon grow popular in the execution of criminals; entertainment for the masses. Flames lick up from underneat the sinful sallet; the god's own hairstyle giving new meaning to 'fiery redhead'. Within his mouth, his teeth have long been removed; replaced instead by a set of sabretooth tiger jaws demanded by him to Hermes, whom found them within the tundras of the great Northland. Where his ribs should be, instead there be a lavishly decorated cuirass; armor so greedily decorated, that sin itself seems to shine off of its golden exterior. Aesop's legs, however, are not legs at all. Instead, in their place, are two long golden bars; handles used by his loyal servents to carry and carouse him about; a token to the god's neverending lust for worship.

A Brief Time Upon the Mount

In his life, Aesop lived as a simple slave who told stories of morals and animals. Upon his death, however, things became quite fortunate for the ex-human, whom had enchanted much of Mt. Olympus with his superior prose; comparable only to the muse, Calliope(?). Soon thereafter, he became the official scop of the greater gods: always writing, always creating more challenging, compelling stories.

That was, however, for a while.

Becoming even celebrated amongst the people down on Earth, Aesop's ambitions grew.

"Why should I stay a slave to these gods, when I can become a god myself?"

The stage set, Aesop's downward spiral into pride, ego, and the most grievous of vanities began. Stripping his skin because he could not gild his own guise, replacing his most human extremities with gaudy, yet godly gifts, replacing his original talents with flashy trickery, Aesop himself became the most depraved on the Mount: a devil most readily rivaling even Dionysis and Hades in evil and trickery. One day, as Zeus dined upon the god's dish of ambrosia, Aesop poisoned the Master's food, hoping that he would indeed destroy the head of all Greece; a throne he hastily wished to seize. Finding of the gashious god's treachary, Zeus banished Aesop from Mt. Olympus; a god condemned for eternity to never find his own flock.

"Bah! Who needs Olympus?", Aesop scoffed. "I'll find other lands to make my own! They will vie for me as they do for Zeus!"

Wandering many realms here and far, Aesop has ended up in Puzzlebox; his ambitions simple and direct: Establish himself the most powerful religion, and yoke Zeus of his command as head of all.

So, How about the Snakes?

The snakes that live within Aesop's head, ironically, are the last vestiges of the humanity that once reigned supreme within him. Representing the passive morality and aggressive morality respectively, they are named Aranche and Astyanax. Astyanax represents the aggresive morals of man; a fiery-red with black belly; flamboyant also. He regularly bickers on with Aesop, trying hard and long to make the foolish god see things they way they should. Aranche, the symbolic snake of passive morals; a periwinkle-blue with yellow belly, occasionally persuades Aesop to his wrong-doings, and trys to gently convince him to do the righteous deeds that he has not commit in many ages.

Well, If Aesop Has No Legs, How Does He Get Around?

Thanks to the workings of Prometheus, Aesop commands a small regiment of eight clay golems which carry him around; each devilishly jeweled with a different type of gem to represent Aesop's supposed worth. They are neither sentient, nor intelligent. (The golems themselves are nameless; they are simply refered by the uniform of jewels set into them as follows: Garnet, Lazuli, Onyx, Topaz, Amethyst, Opal, Sapphire, and Diamond.)