Ares never was one for logic, for thinking things through; Prometheus had often thought that Ares was his antithesis. No, not like Damsen. Not in the way you might think, Prometheus was not a peacemaker, nor did he oppose war, he was the Titan of forethought, one who believed in thinking things through, and making the right decision. Ares was quite certainly the opposite of that.

This idea, that Ares is a soul of impulsivity, could be proved by looking at any occasion where Ares had to make an important decision, whether it be about war or about which lovers to take. He was a God of war, a god of brute strength, and his mindset would be his downfall.

This is the story of how the spirit of battle's biggest problem turned out to be his intense struggle with a pickle jar.

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Ephialtes and Otis, twin giants born to the god of the sea. They lived in a small hut in southern Greece, terrorising small towns, boasting their 'invincibility'. An oracle had foretold of their invulnerability, no god nor man could injure them. Thus, the twins tore through the countryside, slaughtering and pillaging.

One day, the two thought of a plan, a plan to overthrow the heavens. Ephialtes demanded Hera as his wife, and Otis insisted on Artemis. They climbed to Olympus, stacking mountain after mountain on top of each other until they reached the wispy clouds that were turning a deep grey in warning of the ominous battle.

During the battle, Ares — the brutal war god — was captured by the giants and bound in celestial bronze rope. They carted him to their home, a cave on the side of a mountain. Inside, lay a big bronze jar that was topped with a daunting, sturdy latch. With a small amount of yelling and struggling, the giants managed to stuff Ares into the jar and slam the lid shut.

Now, Ephialtes and Otis were strong, there was no doubt about that, however they were not the brightest giants around. So, after they had shoved the bound war god into the jar, the two paid no heed to their mother's frustrated looks. Looks that were often caused by the loud echoes of Ares rocking around the jar, trying to escape; sharp clanks of bronze hitting stone disturbed the silence of the cave.

However, throughout the many months that Ares was kept within his bronze confinements, his bangs became less frequent, and eventually stopped altogether. It was then that the screams started. All day, everyday. Now, Ares was a god, yes he had weaknesses, but he couldn't die. And thus, the wails proceeded through the night.

The giant's mother snapped. Her patience ran out and she sought for a way to rid her home of the incessant noise: the gods. She prayed on the gods of Olympus and warned Hermes, the god of messengers, where their god of war had been. Strangely, at least to the mother, no one, not Hermes or any of the other gods, seemed to be overjoyed or happy to know where their relative was after 13 months without him. That left a sour taste in her mouth, and she was left feeling even more sorry for the god of brutal warfare.