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Fandom Camp Half-Blood: Titan Quest IC

Reader mode
OOC
Here
Characters
Here





THE MAGICIAN.















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Magus



The Magician




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




Ew fighting











OUTFIT




This is NOT CTF Appropriate











LOCATION




Half on top of Graham











MENTIONS




Graham, Roman, Cel, Percy, Matteo









INTERACTS




qunqun qunqun The Elder The Elder Harrowhark Harrowhark

















SUPERMODEL — Måneskin.
































































scroll






Reflection.




Shattered fragments affixed into delicate shapes. A shimmering tapestry, but the pieces are jagged and fractured. What was it like to be whole?






























CAPTURE THE FLAG.

And so the two were officially joined. So gossip time!

Magus listened raptly when the two talked, offering her own input throughout. “He’s the god of the wilds.” Keeping it simple, there would always be more about the legends of their unique family history, but Magus was just focusing on getting Graham a little more in the loop. “No frying pan relation. But the pan flute was named after him.” She offered as just a little tidbit for the joke.

“Definitely not a usual at camp.” Agreeing with Roman. A curiosity, Magus just knew he’d be interesting!

On claiming though, and other unsavory bits of camp, less fun for a newcomer. Most of the time, Magus looked towards the gods with reverence. Earning her mother’s favor, her blessings, was the ultimate goal. Other times, Magus wondered if they even understood their children at all, or if they did, if they cared then. When Artemis was born, she helped her mother deliver her twin Apollo right after. The two then killed the serpent sent as Hera’s punishment for Zeus’ infidelity. Sometimes it felt like they were expected to be able to make such feats with as much natural affinity. Impossible under mortal constraints, human in that every single one of them still had to crawl and toddle before taking off running.

…

“What can you expect elsewise?” A disinterested shrug. “Mortals won’t understand our godly problems and the gods are above our mortal qualms. It can be a cruel world for a demigod.” He gave Graham a little pet, “So it’s nice to be around people with similar experiences, work to be safe. It’s brutal here, but we make do, we survive.”

“I’m not sure what you may be able to do as a son of Pan, but other cabins such as Demeter and Dionysus may be a good place to check out and make friends." There was also-

Another body joined them.

There was also him, of course.

“Ugh.” Amusement from Magus’ features washed away in an instant, broken off from their hold on Graham and instead being the one clung to. Now, attention? Good. But as Magus had tall, red, and handsome in their sights- This was annoying.

Magus shoved the offending little weirdo off and-

Blink.

“Oh nooo. An enemyyy!~” Drawn out dramatic, “Hooow scaaaary! Έκβιάζω... or whatever…” Dropping off at the end, the plant man was sent suddenly flying away- Shoved with a magical force.

…

Oh right. People.

“Don’t worry, he’s fine.” Magus waved off, now draping their legs over Graham. “He likes it, comes crawling back like a roach.” Magus almost sounded…. Impressed. Despite the odd relation, well, Magus loved the devotion that backed Jackson up. It was really hard to tell whether or not she hated the guy.

“So anyways- Yeah, you haven’t met her yet then?” Answering Roman's question. “Hope you like dogs, that was her darling Sariel with her.”

….And more people were coming….

Oh, come on.

First Jackson came scrambling out. That much was normal. But then their darling trouble maker godly sibling came around flanked by the cute Athena try-hard. Matt should have been a good sign, but with Percy- A gasp, “You traitorous bitch.” Working with the enemy!

As if Magus wasn’t currently all cozying up to another blue team redhead. Though her place half on his lap was certainly less team threatening than Matt walking in practically hand in hand with Athena’s golden boy.

Really? So many interruptions. Roman was chill about harboring Graham right now so that got a pass. Cel and Sariel were quick to leave but the pop up was starting to get annoying as recurring. Jackson…. Well he was no threat at the moment at least but now it was getting crowded and these interruptions were like a personal slight. Finally, now Percy and Matt arrived. Too many things!

Percy readied his spear, Magus groaned. Not fun! “If you point that thing at me I will break it.” The red head at least seemed to focus in on Roman. Good, getting this top dirty would be a crime. They were not going to fight if they could help it. He knew Roman was more willing to play though so if they wanted to run off- Sure.

“Nice to see you back, Roman. Hope beating each other won’t be too rowdy of a welcome.”

Ugh, pleasantries before fighting. Just- “If you’re going to go at it could you just-” A little motion to shoo off. Go on- Be brutes elsewhere.





























♡coded by uxie♡
 





The Survivalist.















scroll

Graham



The Survivalist




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




smarter than he looks











OUTFIT




Off da street











LOCATION




Red Flag











MENTIONS




Magus, Roman









INTERACTS




jinxxes jinxxes The Elder The Elder

















Let's Fall in Love — FINNEAS.
































































scroll






Aster's Eulogy.




A star has died, the brightest burn the fastest, and all that remains is silence






























Capture the Flag.

Plant boy smacked away like a fly, son of Hades being pestered by a monster-dog that seemed otherwise friendly. A lot was happening that the forest child was responding to with mellow, vacant smiles, not a single intelligent thought rattling around up there as the danger seemed to go completely over his head.

At this point he’d taken off his armor, seeing that he probably wasn’t going to need to use that any time soon.

“ ‘s that the boss, love?” Graham asked Magus easily. His easy going laziness sprawled out like a lion being groomed by the lioness as he allowed the son of Hecate to be ever so close despite first meeting.

Two were running up upon them.

“Ah, yeah, looks like it. Alright.” Might as well take advantage of the element of surprise, right?

Whispered in the back of his mind, the forest was telling him where everyone was. Who everyone was. The biggest dangers. The threats. The wind. The birds. The squirrels. He was suddenly aware of every little leaf blowing in the wind.

It was maddening.

He let the voices crowd his skull, as he gently pried himself out of Magus’s grasp “Sorry ‘bout this love, but it looks like I actually have to do shite now.”

Down.

There was some rumbling underneath the ground and then roots burst out of the ground, wrapping tightly around Magus head to toe, and then dragging them under the ground in a coffin of roots as Graham’s eyes were replaced completely by a green light. Like he was being taken over by the madness that clung to Pan as a god of wilds.

Away.

Vines reached down and wrapped around Roman’s body, lifting him and tying him against a tree, his arms tied as well.

“Thanks for the advice, though. I'll definitely check out the other plant lads when this is over.”





























♡coded by uxie♡
 










It's always funny how quickly a demigod's luck changes. One moment, Isaac was out there, kicking ass and having a genuinely good time with the person he hopes to one day reconcile with again, the next, the love child of Michael Myers and a Sasquatch is out to kill you.

Isaac was still smiling like a complete doofus as he followed Callie into battle like a faithful golden retriever when she had saved him from being turned into a pancake by the masked colossus. He's been at camp for a long time and he's sure he can count with one hand who the tallest campers are, but for some reason, the name of this camper eluded him.

That didn't matter though, as in her attempt to save him from getting squashed like an ant, Callie had fallen pretty bad on her back and he was sure she was in no shape to fight the monstrosity of a man before them.

Isaac sighed. Ever since they were kids, he had always been getting into all sorts of trouble as he tried to play hero to his best friend. Most of the time, his attempts backfired and all he managed to do was worry Callie excessively but now that her life was in actual danger, he kind of wished he had more to work with when facing such a formidable foe. There were times he wished he could have one of those super cool abilities like throwing fireballs, commanding lightning, or bending darkness to one's will and this was definitely one of those times. He weighed his options, but the situation wasn't looking any good for him.

"I'm not sure I can make this guy pass out from laughter like that Ares kid from earlier." He thought as he glared at the massive brute. "Should I try to manipulate him to go away? Incapacitate him by giving him crippling depression?"

As he desperately tried to form a strategy in his head, he made sure to stand in between the giant and Callie in case they get impatient and charge towards them. If all else fails, he could at least provide a distraction for Callie by making himself the more pressing target. There was no way he was going to allow this guy to hurt her any longer.

"Shit, I really am in a David versus Goliath situation right now..." He said to himself nervously.

Standing tall, Isaac braced himself for the inevitable charge of the walking mountain when probably the only other camper who stood a chance against the Colossal Titan arrived and delivered glancing blow to their head.

"FUCK YES, AUGUSTE!" Isaac found himself shouting for joy as relief washed over his body. Truth be told, he was very close to soiling his undergarments as he anticipated the gargantuan camper's attack so he was definitely happy to see their enemy taking on someone their own size.

With the masked camper preoccupied with Auguste, he took advantage of the distraction by rushing to Callie's side, and picking her up, careful to place one arm to support her neck and upper back, while the other arm was placed behind her knees. He wasn't sure how Callie would react to receiving a princess carry but it was far better than carrying her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He's willing to receive an earful from her later but now he has to get her back to the healers immediately before any permanent damage can take hold from her back injury.

Before he left, he made sure to take one more look at Auguste and provide some words of motivation. "I owe you for this one, man. I'll make sure to buy a lot of cat toys and scratching posts for little Lucy... and Ohhhh! I'll also throw in a month's worth of that gourmet cat food she likes. Anyways, thanks a lot!" He shouted over to Auguste in a grateful tone before retreating for the medical area that was set up outside of the boundary for CTF.

He didn't know how badly injured Callie was so he made sure to be extra careful when he was carrying her.

"Hey, I know I'm not your favorite person in the world right now, but please endure it until I get you some help. " Isaac told Callie, his tone and expression rife with concern.

Upon reaching the medics on standby, he allowed them to take him from her, however he decided to stay with her rather than going back to the woods to fight. No win in Capture the Flag would be worth leaving the blonde girl when she needed someone by her side the most.

"You're gonna be alright. I'll be right here with you." Isaac said reassuringly, emphasizing his concern by gently squeezing her hand as the medics began treating her for her injuries.








the clown prince



Isaac.













♡coded by uxie♡
 
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Capture The Flag-----Interesting Turn of Events​
jorge-lendeborg-peter-devito.jpg
After Celaena's rapid departure, Roman has been standing, looking around while listening to the conversation at hand. He was in pretty laxed position, posted up against a tree with his dagger-length spear still in hand. His guard wasn't completely down, since Graham was still considered to be on the Blue Team, but he wasn't acting like a hard ass either. Graham seemed to be completely sincere in this current moment. He seemed to hold no interest in trying to gain the red flag. And after careful insightful glances, Roman assumed it was pretty safe to relax for a brief moment, even with the sounds of cannons coming from the other side of camp. He wondered what was happening but so far, nothing came to impact near them. They were safe for now. he could just relax and continue to ease his way back into camp for a moment. But that would change once someone else joined their little group. Jackson, another member of Blue Team. Just what were those Ares kids doing?

As Jackson came running in, Roman's body automatically tensed up. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he was prepared. Well that is until Magus send the kid flying away with magical force. At first Roman, just looked concerned, but then his face turned into confusion when they said that he's okay and he likes it. Things were slowly getting weird, but as he thought back, he remembered Jackson from a few years ago. He faintly recalls a few moments witnessing this same behavior and each time, he'll just leave without a word. in this same scenario, he might just need to do it again. But then he couldn't just leave Graham here to deal with these two....right? None of them here, cared about what's going on with this game. Magus definitely didn't, Graham is just new and here for the fuck of it, and Jackson is just here to obsess over Magus. "Ay dios mío." He says to himself shaking his head in disbelief.

A few more moments has passed and before he knew it he heard more footsteps approaching, multiple pairs. Stepping off the tree, he looks into the direction of the source, and naturally the grip placed on his weapon has tightened and his body tenses up. Approaching them was the Athena Cabin's camp counselor, Percy, and standing next to him was Matteo, a child of Hecate. Only for a brief moment, did Roman questioned why those to were walking together, but then he just figured that Matteo, like the others around him, didn't care about the game either. But still with Percy here, Roman was already expecting things to go sideways, just not as fast as it did. "¿Qué lo que?" He said with a head nod, anticipating for so form of ambush or attack. He his back towards the tree he was leaning against, as his eyes began glancing, between Graham, Percy, and even Jackson. His eyes, lands onto Graham once more as he speaks, moving away from Magus. The moment he went after Magus, Roman sinks into the shadows, sinking down into them.

"That was close Graham." Roman's voice spoke out through the forest, nowhere to be seen. However his location could easily be narrowed down, if they listened for the direction. For a moment he was silent, until. "I didn't expect you to act so quickly." His voice speaks again coming from a new location entirely. "You might make a survive this new life of yours just yet." He spoke again from a new location. By this point, someone who knew much about him could guess he was using the shadows within the forest around them to travel around. "Oh and Percy, it feels good to be back. But I'm taking it easy my first day back though so you don't have to worry much about me." Again he was gone. "But my friends however...they would like to play." This time his voice seemed to be a bit closer to them compared to before. "σηκώνομαι." He spoke in Greek saying the phrase 'Arise'. As he says that, his eyes turn pitch black, as the air around them becomes cold. The ground around Percy and the others begins moving as a skeleton hand holding a Greek sword, reaches out the ground.

Then another.

And another.

Before there eyes, 4 hands reach out of the ground pulling themselves up. Coming from the ground before them were 4 skeleton warriors, or Spartoi, all wearing Greek armor and weapons. Some had a sword and shield, some had spears and shield. All ready to fight. "Don't hurt them too bad." Roman spoke again, this time ways away. He was informing the skeletons to not kill anyone. The skeleton warriors began to separate, two going for Percy, one going for Jackson, and the other for Graham. The thing about the skeleton warriors is the only way to actually kill them is if you cause them to fight or harm each other, or be a child of Hades. Any other way when harmed, would just cause them to reform.

 
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Antonio Reyes

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Ant's foot raised to drop down on Callie, but then he received a heavy blow to the back of the head, and surprisingly enough, it hurt a little. Ant turned to see his attacker, Auguste, the Son of Apollo. He then looked back to see Callie being pulled away by Isaac. “I get she's your sister and all..." Ant put his hand on the back of his head and rubbed it gently. "But why did you have to go and do that, little Auguste…” Ant turned to face him again; his voice was monotone and deep. It sounded so cold and dead, that it could make one's spine shiver. He looked Auguste up and down, sizing him up, determining how much power he’d need to use. “65 percent… Maybe 70…” He said quietly to himself.

“Don’t drop your guard. I don’t want to kill you from a possible misjudgment.” Ant said before throwing a fast left hook at the Son of Apollo’s shoulder, planning to dislocate it.
 
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CAMP HALF-BLOOD CHAPTER 1: Camp's a Little Weird Today
CAPTURE THE FLAG
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The game of Capture The Flag began in a flash with a blur of red and blue plumes. Both sides fought valiantly with the red team getting an early lead. However, the blue team soon gained the upper hand and the horn blew with a deafening cheer as a blue plumed child of Hermes was raised into the air by their fellow teammates holding the red flag high.

”We have a winner! Congratulations BLUE TEAM!” Chiron called

ATTENTION PLAYERS: Congratulations on a great game! Please wrap up your CTF posts in preparation for the celebration and campfire singalong later. Hope you all had fun!​
 
TW: THIS POST IS A DISCUSSION OF AURELIAN'S INTERNALITY. AS SUCH IT DISCUSSES PARENTAL ABUSE, THE EFFECTS IT HAD ON HIM, AND THERE IS A LOT OF NEGATIVE SELF TALK AND VICTIMBLAMING.​





THE CHEF.















scroll

Aurelian



The Chef




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




Frustrated, what else











OUTFIT




Punk ass bitch











LOCATION




Med Tent











MENTIONS




Ilya









INTERACTS






















HELL ABOVE — PIERCE THE VEIL



























































scroll






The Tertiary Sin.




Boiling deep within, a bubbling heat of wrath. Venom seeping through bladed lexicon






























Mask Off.

Aurelian was found collapsed in the woods.

There had always been so much noise no matter where he’d gone, it’d never been quiet. He never let things get too quiet in his head. A couple of rough patches had taught him that indulging in self-reflection outside of the immediate was something painful, something indulgent and decadent that he shouldn’t allow himself to fall into.

How many times do you get called a monster before you begin to believe it a little?

The first couple of times, it was a child throwing a tantrum, hands wrapped around a weaker neck as the adults scurried over to get the fighting boys separated.

First moment of existence brought into sharp clarity as spittle flew into his face, shadows of fingers around his throat fading into dark purple bruises as the kid screamed over a stuffed animal:

“This is why nobody fucking loves you.”

No child should ever have that as their first memory, as any memory, as the first in a series of like-memories. Hollowed eyes and gaunt figures haunted his nightmares, a soul carved from the shell of who they were before. No child should ever look like that.

This was not self-pity. He fucking deserved it. He’d wanted something soft to cling to that night, and he’d gotten caught stealing someone’s treasured toy. Consequences to shitty action. But even when he knew he should be afforded no sympathy – the monster that it was – were other kids subject to his draconian morality?

No, not when they were too young to handle it. The bar raised slowly as he grew older. It’d started with no child younger than five, then it was younger than seven, ten, twelve…

No child under the age of fifteen should feel the way he did at the age of four, wanting the bear and taking it for himself, not understanding the concept of possession until it was too late, understanding for the first time in many that someone, truly, loathed his existence. Even if he deserved it, he doubted that there was anyone as truly deserving as he.

He who was created to destroy, bred to destroy, raised to destroy. What a fucking disgraceful creature that is. Who would ever actually want that for themselves? How could you describe that as anything less than monstrous?

Perhaps that was why he was so drawn to cooking. You slice and you burn, but you create something that makes people happy but for the briefest moment in this cursed existence. His talent for destruction turned creative.

He'd been adopted before highschool. He’d never been loved more, he’d never been despised more. They’d been upstanding Christians, wanted him to dress nice and go to church every Sunday. Silver punched into war torn out, dark ink scrubbed from skin. They’d wanted to take the monster that he was and tame him into something fit for society.

Aurelian couldn't have fucking waited for the change. The spoon, the belt becoming familiar friends as he was smacked for anything lower than an A, mouth washed out with soap, declarations of his evil nature on the regular. Any deviation from his strict 4PM curfew – except for Wednesdays when he had Bible studies after class and Thursdays when he was allowed to take MMA classes – being due cause to be locked out of the house for the night. They always made him hug them after, though, which was new for him. Tell them that he loved them, that he loved their punishments. That they were making him a better person, and he slowly began to believe it too.

He hadn't even realized during the second day of summer his sophomore-rising-junior year that he’d been locked out for good for the first night, spending it on the concrete steps, something gnawing at his stomach and his mind as he poured over that day, yesterday, the past week’s sins.

Had he not taken out the trash? Had he not done his homework?

He’d wanted to throw up, because he had thought falsely that three years was enough to change him from the despicable slime that he was.

The monster attacks had started when he was ten, and he saw his first demigod die. With trembling hands he’d picked up the bloody dagger and somehow limped home with a new souvenir, covered in the dust of what had once been a monster… it made sense that they cannibalized their own, when he really thought about it.

He had slaughtered a woman with snakes in her hair outside his home, seen the ashen faces of his adoptive parents, the increasing wrinkles and frowns as he begged them not to kick him out, tripping over his own words as he desperately tried to explain that he wasn't a murderer, that he’d changed, that he wasn't monstrous. He was good now. He would be good for them.

They’d cupped his hands clasped in prayer and told him that everything was going to be alright.

Lying was a sin, but what were they supposed to say when they’d realized they were harboring a demon?

Aurelian had seen his mother peeking from behind the curtain the next day after a sleepless night of feeling something deep inside him breaking again and again and again. Agony. He wanted to tear his hair out and scream and beg and sob to be let back into his loving family. To feel like he belonged and had purpose and discipline and to feel like he had hope to be something other than himself – a disgusting, terrible, wretched, sinful, spineless, horrible, awful, monstrous abomination in the facsimile of a human.

It never happened. He’d stood, collected his duffel bag where they’d graciously left it outside the porch, and stumbled into the woods in a haze.

They’d been right, after all, he was too disgusting to even be saved.

He’d slaughtered monster after monster as they came for him, waking up in piles of dust and his own blood as he continued stumbling. Towards what, he didn't know.

The next moment of pure clarity came in the forms of soft hands touching him, which he felt nauseous towards. Sick. What had he done to deserve such kindness? Slaughtered in a selfish bid to stay alive.

He wanted people to know that he was fucking evil. It meant that the population would shun him, shun the monster only meant to destroy and tear down everything around it. His infamously short temper, his therapist argued when he was a kid was just a response to not being able to understand what emotion he was actually feeling. A coping mechanism when the world said he wasn't allowed to express anything else. Was he feeling hurt, betrayed, afraid?

They hadn't stuck around long enough to find out, but Aurelian couldn't remember a time where he wasn't angry at something. At someone for doing something so infinitesimally stupid that it could endanger the people around him, themselves… people. Because people mattered more than monsters.

Could he hold a grudge against someone for making an honest mistake, though? No. The snapping, the insults, the swearing. They could motivate change. Grudges only caused strife though. While he seemed to attract strife like a fly to shit, he would never wish for undue conflict. Where would the fairness be in that?

His general affection for humanity would never be mistaken for a love, though. To be human is to love and to be loved. Did he love anyone? Did anyone ever love him? How could they? At best he was an asshole, at worst he was a monster in disguise. Neither of which seemed very indicative of love to him. These declarations of subhumanity may seem harsh to the outsider, but it made sense for him. It was the only thing that he knew for sure about himself. He was a monster, or at the very least he was subhuman. So therefore, he was the other. He was the thing people feared, and for historically good reason.

It meant that everyone would be safe from him.

Aurelian saw a bright light. It burned, but he didn't say anything. He’d endured worse.

He felt… peace finally. The sensation so alien, so pleasant he almost wanted to cry. When had the last time he’d been touched in a way that hadn't burned? Monsters didn't deserve such fucking kindness without its heavy burdened work. He hadn't done nearly enough to deserve this. He’d lost the fight.

Pathetic. He was fucking better than that. Even as he tried to gather his thoughts, form the barrier and the shield: the anger. The peace… washed through the cracks, infiltrated him until he was enveloped by the foreign pleasantness. It wasn't pleasure, it was more like a cool dip in a spring of clear blue water. Refreshing.

What a load of fucking shit, get your lazy ass up. You need to get back to fucking work.

Aurelian burst awake in the Apollo med bay with a loud gasp and a jolt upright, followed by a series of body wracking coughs as the sensation of being healed faded and he was greeted once more with his aching of a monster forcing himself to masquerade as a human.

The vestiges of a shining lightning bolt over his head were just fading out as he choked on his own spit. People were staring at him like they weren't sure to bow, laugh, or run away screaming. Their faces twisted into horrible in between of all of them. He would've laughed if he knew what the fuck was happening.

“... What the fuck are you all staring at, assholes.” He snapped, though the heat was lacking – recovering from a concussion, a bit of brain fog was normal.

As was when he immediately lost all the color in his face, turned over and vomited into a trash can on the side of the bed.





























♡coded by uxie♡
 
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Celaena Saria


Daughter of Hades - Camper










Mood:


Annoyed, Protective, Exhausted, and Worried







Location:


Camp Half-Blood: Capture The Flag







Outfit:


click me!








Tags:


Thalassa PixieDust PixieDust
Roman The Elder The Elder
Aiden @Kveykva
Auguste qunqun qunqun















Celaena had been fighting with her sword, focusing on the males before her, only to have a sharp pain erupt from her right hip. She had not noticed the small fighter, and the distraction had cost the dak-haired female greatly. A bullet had managed to hit her already injured shoulder, thus causing the girl to stumble. Her sword jammed into the ground, and she felt her legs collapse under her for a split second. Her eyes closed as she tried to ignore the fresh feeling of blood dripping from her arm.

As soon as the blow was dealt, Sariel was immediately on her paws, racing towards her mistress. Her ears pinned back as a snarl revealed ivory canines. She was so focused on her injured friend that the hellhound wasn't entirely aware of the bullet heading straight for her. Thalassa's scream caused the hellhound to whip around in time to see Thalassa land on the ground. Now, Sariel was oftentimes calm and very respectful of the campers. She would not attack. This, however, was where she drew the line.

Cel's eyes widened, and the 'Ice Queen' growled dangerously. The mercury-dipped gaze seemed to grow icier than ever before as she slowly stood up, wavering just barely as she glared daggers at the Red team. She wouldn't care about her own safety. She had a high pain tolerance, mainly from all the years on her own. Sariel growled darkly from beside the downed form of Thalassa, her body pressing against the legs of Celaena. That steady weight was mainly the only reason that Cel was even standing at the moment. "Thal, are you alright?" Her voice was cold and dangerous as Cel's piercing gaze glared at the campers. The ground subtly began to shake in her anger and worry.

The blow of the horn sounded as the game ended, and Celaena felt her tense body relax. Though her cold gaze never wavered from the red campers before her. "Watch your backs. and NEVER come near me or Thalassa again." Her voice was dangerously cool-toned. A hand lowered to Thalassa, offering the girl a hand up as the wounds the girl had gotten throbbed with every move. "Can you walk? Or do you need help from Sariel?" The icy female asked softly, her tone lightening from the dangerous tone to the soft, soothing one she usually reserved for her close friends and family. Frosty orbs softened, the piercing quality all but gone as she focused on her new friend.

Sariel remained next to her mistress, a low growl rumbling in her chest as she dared any of the campers to try and approach. Her protective instincts reared up as she allowed her red orbs to blaze dangerously. Her ivory canines snapped slightly if anyone dared move in their direction. Her fur was bristling, and her tail lowered as she studied the group before them. As soon as she heard her name from Celaena, her focus switched instantly, and a soft whine came from her muzzle. When Auguste took Thalassa, Cel immediately stepped away, leaning heavily against Sariel as the hellhound slowly made her way to the Hades cabin.











♡design by stardust galaxy, coded by uxie♡

 
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Tartarus. The Greek version of hell were the wicked are punished, and where monsters are reborn before they terrorize the mortal realm once more. A treacherous place where no mortal was expected to survive. Whether a demigod was condemned here, or knowingly and foolishly entered this place, the result would be all the same... a most painful and horrendous death. If one quote could summarize this gods forsaken place, it would be the description Dante Alighieri used to describe Hell in his Divine Comedy. "Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here."

And for a fact, most would do so. Until only recently, getting out of this infernal prison was thought to be impossible. However, two managed to defy the reputation of Tartarus and escaped by the skin of their teeth... thanks to the help of a Giant and an Amnesiac Titan.

Percy Jackson... and Annabeth Chase... for a while, those names were all the monsters begrudgingly muttered after failing to stop the escape of the two demigods... at least the ones capable of speech anyways. And this they would soon come to regret when it attracted the attention of something far worse.

The couple of demigods who escaped were only there for a blink of an eye and they managed to get help along the way....as a result, Tartarus was not able to break them. And they managed to hold on to their precious hope.

"Few were ever that lucky." a figure dressed in armor as black as a moonless night thought as he examined the remains of a demigod. After offering a simple prayer, and slipping two golden drachma into both of its skeletal eye sockets, he confiscated its damaged Roman armor and broken sword before storing it inside the pocket dimension he created.

The black knight stared on the horizon, towards the direction where the couple of demigods escaped. But unlike the two, hope was not what fueled him... no. He had long since abandoned that concept countless of years ago ever since his bastard father decided to sweep him under the proverbial rug. However, given his circumstances, hope would have done him no good anyway. He needed something stronger, deeper, and even more insidious... and Hades provided it for him. If not for Vengeance, he would have lost himself long ago.

Underneath his pitch black helmet, a grin appeared for the first time in centuries. He was thankful towards the two unexpected "guests" that decided to drop by and play Houdini using the Doors of Death. They may have just given him what he needed to escape as well.

And so he started his advance. *clink* *clunk* Anticipation coursed through his veins with each step he took. But as he got closer to his destination, that smile morphed once more to rage when he realized what awaited him.

"Even now, you choose to stand in my way. You dumb fucks never learn." Spencer said before sighing exasperatedly.

What stood before him was an army of monsters composed of different beasts from across all of Greek mythology. From the sheer number of them, it would seem like most of the monstrous denizens of Tartarus have decided to throw him a murderous farewell party.

As he outstretched his arm to the side, Helltaker, a scythe made of Stygian Iron appeared in his hand. The blade glowed a menacing shade of crimson, as if resonating with its master's rage. Spencer gripped the shaft tightly to the point of his knuckles turning white from within his gauntlet while his free hand was used to taunt the creatures, as if daring them to come get him, to which they immediately obliged.

The first to come close to reaching him were a group of lycanthropes, their speed only ever matched by their ferocity. As they lunged at him, they were suddenly sliced into numerous pieces, much to the surprise of the onlookers. Unbeknownst to them, Spencer had used his ability to cover the area in front of him with thin, almost imperceptible wires made of darkness, which shredded the lycanthropes like minced meat as they passed through it. With how fast they were accelerating towards him, chunks of the wolf-like creatures flew in all directions, making the sight even more horrifying to the monsters.

With the most annoying ones taken care of, the black knight resumed his advance. A cyclops tried to smash him with his gigantic club, and thought it succeeded, only to realize the demigod was nowhere to be seen. Just as it looked up, the knight appeared in midair before it and swung his scythe horizontally, cutting off the Cyclops' face in two perfectly down the middle of its eye. Stymphalian birds started raining from the sky like like little kamikaze planes, only to be intercepted by a volley of weapons made of darkness launched by the knight telekinetically. A squadron of Scythian Dracaenae, armed to the teeth with formidable armor and weapons were rendered helpless when dark chains sprung from their shadows and binded them in place, their eyes filled with horror as the knight casually slaughtered them, unable to even lift a finger to protect themselves. Even when the Nemean Lion charged at him, he remained unfazed, swatting the creature with his forearm as if one would swat a fly. When it tried to get up, numerous undead had already surrounded it, piling their bodies one on top of the other until the creature could no longer struggle under the weight of living corpses. As if to ensure it was dead, Spencer raised his arm, and a gigantic skeletal arm arose from the ground before it formed a fist and smashed itself on the pile of corpses that kept the nigh-invulnerable lion locked in place.

Each step he took, a monster was slain, and each fallen monster was a reminder to their brethren of who they were up against. Gradually, some of them realized that the enemy before them was none other than the nightmarish entity that had been slaughtering their kind for centuries. The smart ones fled immediately upon the realization. The ones that remained foolishly thought that their numbers alone were sufficient in bringing down the "Reaper".

Meanwhile, Spencer's relentless advance had bore fruit. He was now standing at the exact spot where he saw the two half-bloods take the Doors of Death to escape Tartarus. As he expected, the relic of a god would be powerful enough to still leave behind residual traces. He grinned once more, realizing that his theory could actually work. However, even he would have trouble casting the spell completely while defending against an army of monsters.

With a snap of his fingers, a gigantic portal opened, and from that portal, six entities clad from head to toe in knight's armor emerged. As if immediately understanding the situation, they surrounded the black knight and began defending him from the onslaught of enemies that were out to kill him. Meanwhile he began channeling his powers of darkness on the ground, trying to form a connection with the residual energy left behind by the Doors of Death. His plan was to use this residual energy to get past the curse that was placed on his shadow travel and piggyback from it to create an opening and escape.

Just as he had finished casting the spell, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He scanned his surroundings but all he could see are the mass of monsters fighting his Knights of the Round Table. However, each and everyone of them, he had already fought and defeated before. And in his seemingly countless years of surviving this hellscape, he had never experienced the fear he was feeling now but once. And then he heard the disembodied voice...

"I have been watching you struggle for 500 years, boy. I have broken you, turned you into a beast driven only by anger, hatred, and savagery. Forced you to lose hope at the realization of your eternal damnation."

Suddenly, a huge entity appeared in front of him and kicked him away from the magic circle he constructed. If he had not been wearing armor, he was certain the force of the kick would have ruptured through his body. As he looked up, he realized instantly the identity of the foe that towered before him. His purple flesh was rippling with muscles, his fingers tipped with black talons... but perhaps his most distinguishable feature was his indistinguishable face... a swirling whirlpool and inward spiral of darkness.

"But those cockroaches that managed to escape me... brought back your hope. How regrettable. If you had chosen to remain, I would have allowed you to entertain me some more by continuing to live your miserable, insignificant life, smiting that worm, Echidna's spawns in vain. But now I realize you had not been grateful I tolerated your existence for the past five centuries." Tartarus said before attempting to crush Spencer with his feet that were the size of coffins.

Spencer managed to roll out of the way and get back on his feet but Tartarus was already in front of him. As the primordial god tried to swipe him aside with his arm, two of the knights got in front of him in an attempt to absorb the blow for their lord. Spencer was still thrown like a ragdoll several feet away, the wind getting knocked out of his lungs as he landed with an unceremonious *thump* on his back. The knights that took the blow for him, or what's left of them were nowhere to be seen but the scattered in pieces of their badly damaged armor were sinking to the ground, being reclaimed by the pocket dimension where they came from.

"But as I have once told the two gnats, I shall congratulate you, bastard of Hades, for forcing me to deal with an insect like you personally." Tartarus bellowed.

Meanwhile, Spencer gritted his teeth as he fought through the pain just to stand up. Despite being confident of his combat abilities, he knew when he was hopelessly outclassed. Attempting to fight Tartarus would be tantamount to suicide... and he had come so far and was so close to freedom for him to even entertain the thought.

Using a lot of his remaining power, Spencer summoned an army of undead along with more knights clad in less impressive armor than his Round Table. He also summoned his trusted steed, a spectral horse named Nightmare and got on him.

"Hold him off." was his final command before ordering his horse to start ascending. The spell he casted may have opened the way out, but it merely created an opening above ground. He still needed to reach it and he certainly doesn't see a spare elevator he could take to get to the surface.

Tartarus shouted in anger, perhaps offended by the demigod's attempt to stall him with what he considers as toy soldiers and vermin. Despite the numbers of the undead, they were quickly dealt with, and the remaining four knights, though valiantly they fought, only lasted several seconds longer before they met the same fate as their first two brethren. However, those precious seconds gave Spencer the opportunity to place some significant distance between him and the primordial god.

"I will not suffer the same disgrace again, boy!" Tartarus screamed in rage before he...

"Bloody hell, the fucker flies too?!"

Despite the tremendous speed Nightmare was travelling in with each gallop, he realized that the angry god was gaining ground as it relentlessly chased after him. He threw everything he had at Tartarus as he tried to slow him down, launching weapons, binding him in chains, creating barricades with gigantic bones, all barely even stopping him for a few milliseconds as he barreled through everything. He was getting desperate with each fleeting moment... and if he ever had any hope of escaping Tartarus, both the place and the big angry god pursuing him, he couldn't afford to be picky with his methods.

Channeling more of his power, he concentrated on the image of the creature he wanted to summon. Beads of sweat started forming on his forehead, and his breathing became even more labored as fatigue started to take over his body. At that moment, he remembered a couple of stories his mother told him, all involving the same creature he was trying to create through an unholy marriage of darkness and necromancy. As he was struggling to create the creature, a faint light in the distance provided the hope and encouragement he needed to push on.

"I will be bound and burdened by you no longer... but you're right to think I was ungrateful for all the hospitality you've shown over the years... so how's this for a parting gift, you old fuck?!" Spencer screamed before a gigantic whale-like creature materialized behind him. As it fell to meet Tartarus, it opened its colossal maw... and swallowed the god whole.

Back on the surface, a mix of emotions filled the air as Capture the Flag reached its conclusion. Though whether they felt frustration or celebration, it would all cease as an earthquake far stronger than the one Dreavyn had cast with his magic occurred. Then the earth started caving in, forming a sinkhole several meters across and unfathomably deep. Several minutes would pass as onlookers investigated the mysterious chasm... only for a knight clad in black armor to emerge from the pit, riding a floating horse as dark as night.

The guttural cursing of something far worse than anyone of them could imagine emanated from the pit as something that could only be described as primeval fear overwhelmed them.

The black knight who was still hovering several feet in the air on top of his steed summoned a scythe, blade burning red. He aimed his weapon directly at the pit and fired a continuous stream of burning lava while the chasm slowly closed itself. Before the hole could completely close, they would see a gigantic hand emerge from the pit, desperately searching for its prey. However, the knight summoned an humongous ebony blade and launched it at the hand, condemning it back to the abyss from whence it came just as the hole finally closed.

Spencer was just about ready to pass out when he had gotten off Nightmare and touched solid ground. It took everything he had, but he was finally free. As his armor automatically vanished, the first thing he noticed was the sun. After spending so long inside the dark abyss, he had almost forgotten how bright the burning ball of fire was and how it warmed his skin. Then there was the air... It felt good when his lungs didn't burn from every breath he took.

He allowed himself a few more moments of respite before he investigated his surroundings and came face to face with the campers. Some looked at him with abject horror. Most wouldn't dare meet his eyes at all. But all would stare in stunned silence as they stared at the symbol that appeared above his head. His eyes slowly gazed at what the demigods were staring it, and they widened at the audacity that he witnessed.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." he muttered while looking at the helm of darkness, Hades' symbol of power and the source of his misfortune, hovering above his head.
















Tartarus. The Greek version of hell were the wicked are punished, and where monsters are reborn before they terrorize the mortal realm once more. A treacherous place where no mortal was expected to survive. Whether a demigod was condemned here, or knowingly and foolishly entered this place, the result would be all the same... a most painful and horrendous death. If one quote could summarize this gods forsaken place, it would be the description Dante Alighieri used to describe Hell in his Divine Comedy. "Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here."

And for a fact, most would do so. Until only recently, getting out of this infernal prison was thought to be impossible. However, two managed to defy the reputation of Tartarus and escaped by the skin of their teeth... thanks to the help of a Giant and an Amnesiac Titan.

Percy Jackson... and Annabeth Chase... for a while, those names were all the monsters begrudgingly muttered after failing to stop the escape of the two demigods... at least the ones capable of speech anyways. And this they would soon come to regret when it attracted the attention of something far worse.

The couple of demigods who escaped were only there for a blink of an eye and they managed to get help along the way....as a result, Tartarus was not able to break them. And they managed to hold on to their precious hope.

"Few were ever that lucky." a figure dressed in armor as black as a moonless night thought as he examined the remains of a demigod. After offering a simple prayer, and slipping two golden drachma into both of its skeletal eye sockets, he confiscated its damaged Roman armor and broken sword before storing it inside the pocket dimension he created.

The black knight stared on the horizon, towards the direction where the couple of demigods escaped. But unlike the two, hope was not what fueled him... no. He had long since abandoned that concept countless of years ago ever since his bastard father decided to sweep him under the proverbial rug. However, given his circumstances, hope would have done him no good anyway. He needed something stronger, deeper, and even more insidious... and Hades provided it for him. If not for Vengeance, he would have lost himself long ago.

Underneath his pitch black helmet, a grin appeared for the first time in centuries. He was thankful towards the two unexpected "guests" that decided to drop by and play Houdini using the Doors of Death. They may have just given him what he needed to escape as well.

And so he started his advance. *clink* *clunk* Anticipation coursed through his veins with each step he took. But as he got closer to his destination, that smile morphed once more to rage when he realized what awaited him.

"Even now, you choose to stand in my way. You dumb fucks never learn." Spencer said before sighing exasperatedly.

What stood before him was an army of monsters composed of different beasts from across all of Greek mythology. From the sheer number of them, it would seem like most of the monstrous denizens of Tartarus have decided to throw him a murderous farewell party.

As he outstretched his arm to the side, Helltaker, a scythe made of Stygian Iron appeared in his hand. The blade glowed a menacing shade of crimson, as if resonating with its master's rage. Spencer gripped the shaft tightly to the point of his knuckles turning white from within his gauntlet while his free hand was used to taunt the creatures, as if daring them to come get him, to which they immediately obliged.

The first to come close to reaching him were a group of lycanthropes, their speed only ever matched by their ferocity. As they lunged at him, they were suddenly sliced into numerous pieces, much to the surprise of the onlookers. Unbeknownst to them, Spencer had used his ability to cover the area in front of him with thin, almost imperceptible wires made of darkness, which shredded the lycanthropes like minced meat as they passed through it. With how fast they were accelerating towards him, chunks of the wolf-like creatures flew in all directions, making the sight even more horrifying to the monsters.

With the most annoying ones taken care of, the black knight resumed his advance. A cyclops tried to smash him with his gigantic club, and thought it succeeded, only to realize the demigod was nowhere to be seen. Just as it looked up, the knight appeared in midair before it and swung his scythe horizontally, cutting off the Cyclops' face in two perfectly down the middle of its eye. Stymphalian birds started raining from the sky like like little kamikaze planes, only to be intercepted by a volley of weapons made of darkness launched by the knight telekinetically. A squadron of Scythian Dracaenae, armed to the teeth with formidable armor and weapons were rendered helpless when dark chains sprung from their shadows and binded them in place, their eyes filled with horror as the knight casually slaughtered them, unable to even lift a finger to protect themselves. Even when the Nemean Lion charged at him, he remained unfazed, swatting the creature with his forearm as if one would swat a fly. When it tried to get up, numerous undead had already surrounded it, piling their bodies one on top of the other until the creature could no longer struggle under the weight of living corpses. As if to ensure it was dead, Spencer raised his arm, and a gigantic skeletal arm arose from the ground before it formed a fist and smashed itself on the pile of corpses that kept the nigh-invulnerable lion locked in place.

Each step he took, a monster was slain, and each fallen monster was a reminder to their brethren of who they were up against. Gradually, some of them realized that the enemy before them was none other than the nightmarish entity that had been slaughtering their kind for centuries. The smart ones fled immediately upon the realization. The ones that remained foolishly thought that their numbers alone were sufficient in bringing down the "Reaper".

Meanwhile, Spencer's relentless advance had bore fruit. He was now standing at the exact spot where he saw the two half-bloods take the Doors of Death to escape Tartarus. As he expected, the relic of a god would be powerful enough to still leave behind residual traces. He grinned once more, realizing that his theory could actually work. However, even he would have trouble casting the spell completely while defending against an army of monsters.

With a snap of his fingers, a gigantic portal opened, and from that portal, six entities clad from head to toe in knight's armor emerged. As if immediately understanding the situation, they surrounded the black knight and began defending him from the onslaught of enemies that were out to kill him. Meanwhile he began channeling his powers of darkness on the ground, trying to form a connection with the residual energy left behind by the Doors of Death. His plan was to use this residual energy to get past the curse that was placed on his shadow travel and piggyback from it to create an opening and escape.

Just as he had finished casting the spell, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He scanned his surroundings but all he could see are the mass of monsters fighting his Knights of the Round Table. However, each and everyone of them, he had already fought and defeated before. And in his seemingly countless years of surviving this hellscape, he had never experienced the fear he was feeling now but once. And then he heard the disembodied voice...

"I have been watching you struggle for 500 years, boy. I have broken you, turned you into a beast driven only by anger, hatred, and savagery. Forced you to lose hope at the realization of your eternal damnation."

Suddenly, a huge entity appeared in front of him and kicked him away from the magic circle he constructed. If he had not been wearing armor, he was certain the force of the kick would have ruptured through his body. As he looked up, he realized instantly the identity of the foe that towered before him. His purple flesh was rippling with muscles, his fingers tipped with black talons... but perhaps his most distinguishable feature was his indistinguishable face... a swirling whirlpool and inward spiral of darkness.

"But those cockroaches that managed to escape me... brought back your hope. How regrettable. If you had chosen to remain, I would have allowed you to entertain me some more by continuing to live your miserable, insignificant life, smiting that worm, Echidna's spawns in vain. But now I realize you had not been grateful I tolerated your existence for the past five centuries." Tartarus said before attempting to crush Spencer with his feet that were the size of coffins.

Spencer managed to roll out of the way and get back on his feet but Tartarus was already in front of him. As the primordial god tried to swipe him aside with his arm, two of the knights got in front of him in an attempt to absorb the blow for their lord. Spencer was still thrown like a ragdoll several feet away, the wind getting knocked out of his lungs as he landed with an unceremonious *thump* on his back. The knights that took the blow for him, or what's left of them were nowhere to be seen but the scattered in pieces of their badly damaged armor were sinking to the ground, being reclaimed by the pocket dimension where they came from.

"But as I have once told the two gnats, I shall congratulate you, bastard of Hades, for forcing me to deal with an insect like you personally." Tartarus bellowed.

Meanwhile, Spencer gritted his teeth as he fought through the pain just to stand up. Despite being confident of his combat abilities, he knew when he was hopelessly outclassed. Attempting to fight Tartarus would be tantamount to suicide... and he had come so far and was so close to freedom for him to even entertain the thought.

Using a lot of his remaining power, Spencer summoned an army of undead along with more knights clad in less impressive armor than his Round Table. He also summoned his trusted steed, a spectral horse named Nightmare and got on him.

"Hold him off." was his final command before ordering his horse to start ascending. The spell he casted may have opened the way out, but it merely created an opening above ground. He still needed to reach it and he certainly doesn't see a spare elevator he could take to get to the surface.

Tartarus shouted in anger, perhaps offended by the demigod's attempt to stall him with what he considers as toy soldiers and vermin. Despite the numbers of the undead, they were quickly dealt with, and the remaining four knights, though valiantly they fought, only lasted several seconds longer before they met the same fate as their first two brethren. However, those precious seconds gave Spencer the opportunity to place some significant distance between him and the primordial god.

"I will not suffer the same disgrace again, boy!" Tartarus screamed in rage before he...

"Bloody hell, the fucker flies too?!"

Despite the tremendous speed Nightmare was travelling in with each gallop, he realized that the angry god was gaining ground as it relentlessly chased after him. He threw everything he had at Tartarus as he tried to slow him down, launching weapons, binding him in chains, creating barricades with gigantic bones, all barely even stopping him for a few milliseconds as he barreled through everything. He was getting desperate with each fleeting moment... and if he ever had any hope of escaping Tartarus, both the place and the big angry god pursuing him, he couldn't afford to be picky with his methods.

Channeling more of his power, he concentrated on the image of the creature he wanted to summon. Beads of sweat started forming on his forehead, and his breathing became even more labored as fatigue started to take over his body. At that moment, he remembered a couple of stories his mother told him, all involving the same creature he was trying to create through an unholy marriage of darkness and necromancy. As he was struggling to create the creature, a faint light in the distance provided the hope and encouragement he needed to push on.

"I will be bound and burdened by you no longer... but you're right to think I was ungrateful for all the hospitality you've shown over the years... so how's this for a parting gift, you old fuck?!" Spencer screamed before a gigantic whale-like creature materialized behind him. As it fell to meet Tartarus, it opened its colossal maw... and swallowed the god whole.

Back on the surface, a mix of emotions filled the air as Capture the Flag reached its conclusion. Though whether they felt frustration or celebration, it would all cease as an earthquake far stronger than the one Dreavyn had cast with his magic occurred. Then the earth started caving in, forming a sinkhole several meters across and unfathomably deep. Several minutes would pass as onlookers investigated the mysterious chasm... only for a knight clad in black armor to emerge from the pit, riding a floating horse as dark as night.

The guttural cursing of something far worse than anyone of them could imagine emanated from the pit as something that could only be described as primeval fear overwhelmed them.

The black knight who was still hovering several feet in the air on top of his steed summoned a scythe, blade burning red. He aimed his weapon directly at the pit and fired a continuous stream of burning lava while the chasm slowly closed itself. Before the hole could completely close, they would see a gigantic hand emerge from the pit, desperately searching for its prey. However, the knight summoned an humongous ebony blade and launched it at the hand, condemning it back to the abyss from whence it came just as the hole finally closed.

Spencer was just about ready to pass out when he had gotten off Nightmare and touched solid ground. It took everything he had, but he was finally free. As his armor automatically vanished, the first thing he noticed was the sun. After spending so long inside the dark abyss, he had almost forgotten how bright the burning ball of fire was and how it warmed his skin. Then there was the air... It felt good when his lungs didn't burn from every breath he took.

He allowed himself a few more moments of respite before he investigated his surroundings and came face to face with the campers. Some looked at him with abject horror. Most wouldn't dare meet his eyes at all. But all would stare in stunned silence as they stared at the symbol that appeared above his head. His eyes slowly gazed at what the demigods were staring it, and they widened at the audacity that he witnessed.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." he muttered while looking at the helm of darkness, Hades' symbol of power and the source of his misfortune, hovering above his head.








the exiled one



Spencer








  • filler tab!





♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:
Larua Eldrige
Location: Blue flag into forest
Mentions:
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3333f914d95ed80bcfd0536366fc12e1d0c47c65.png

What had been a clean enough shot, much to Laura's surprise, turned into a massive mistake. Really what kind of idiot took a bullet to save some creature that would just come back? Even if it took time. Heck calena likely could just go beg daddy to speed it up. The point was the darn thing wouldn't have been killed forever. So when Thalassa dove in front of the bullet and took it to the leg Laura didn't know what to feel. Anger, sadness, confusion, disappointment that was the easiest one to feel. She could feel disappointed in how hell's scream had performed, it should have been much stronger. That meant either half bloods were that much tougher or her own skills were lacking. Laura would rather blame herself and her craft than think this was a freak occurrence.

It also dawned on Laura that she has just shot herself in the foot on another matter. Well her very existence shot herself in the foot on this matter. Laura might be spiteful and hate filled, but dhe could still develop minor affections based on looks towards others. In other words she had a very childish crush on thalassa. It was nothing that would have gone anywhere, Laura knew that when it came to looks dhe was in the begitives and her personality was even worse. So she had known there would never be anything there beyond her own flustered thoughts. The bullet to the legs was a final nail in the coffin there was no way and she snd the hades girl were close. Yeah Laura was best off alone.

With the announcement of who won the game dobe Laura just wanted to go back to her room so much so that when the earth shook and another kids was dropped off she just was annoyed she was delayed. Callie her noble steed was gone and none of corona's toys were about to carry her to the cabin. Why did everything in this fucking camp turn into a shit show? Laura would just have to walk. Which would take forever with her being her. Given Laura knew the new guy was going to draw everyone's attention and that no one really gave a shot where she was or what she did Laura left without bothering to tell anyone or even make a noise, she had a long walk ahead of her.
 





The Prodigy.















scroll

Auguste



The Prodigy




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




get out of the way :c











OUTFIT




Basically Pajamas











LOCATION




Capture the Flag :c











MENTIONS




Laura, Ant









INTERACTS




Karcen Karcen SolsticeArcanum SolsticeArcanum

















Eat Your Young — Hozier.
































































scroll






Metamorphosis.




Continual cycling, never ending, the same things rise and fall and repeat






























Capture The Flag Conclusion.

Auguste bounced in place on the balls of his feet as he entered a basic fighter’s stance. There was a bit of a rush to fighting which was his heroin. His drug of choice. Adrenaline and endorphins as he sized this strange person in tactical armor.

He will strike, arm bar, the fresh snap of a bone. Slide. Jump. Wrap legs around the neck. Squeeze. Or jerk to the side.

Constant motion as he blocked the punch, fluid movement turned solid ice, smacking the oncoming limb aside, giving a low whistle as he did so, darting out of easy striking range.

Armor. Opening. Grab. Rip. Bash him in the back with the plating until he stops moving.

Just a small whistle of congratulations at almost landing a blow. That would’ve dislocated his shoulder, hurt like a bitch to relocate it. He’d done it before, done it many times actually. It sucked ass, but it was still usable so how much could he really complain.

Branch. Sharp. Stab him through the throat. Through the eyes. Through the armpit. Through the-

No. He’d been ignoring the murder thoughts up until now, but they were getting harder to ignore. He was going to get through this fight without a single fucking murder attempt. Auguste’s stance swapped back and forth, a little hypnotic pattern of a dance. A small mischievous taunt before he began to-

”We have a winner!”

And immediately he stopped bouncing, turning his back on the weirdo in the obnoxiously bright mask, and started lumbering back, pulling his hair out of its neat little bun so that it got back in his eyes. No need to try 20% anymore. The little bit of life in his eyes snuffed out as quick as it came.

He walked. Perhaps in the wrong direction, he wasn't quite certain. He needed to walk off the adrenaline to become normal again.

And so he walked....

There was a short person in his way.

“...” He stared down at Laura.

Was he supposed to… walk around her? That was probably the nice thing to do. She probably had it.

He sidestepped very carefully, short people… very scary. Don’t step on her.





























♡coded by uxie♡
 
Antonio Reyes

  • 1-dR6cFwGgl0KIjp4jUnBo2bCHZP2egWlghpGkg2Sjuj56oWP0j3McLQfbV7i_eUZ3-JxkpqHznhX9RJ7qh5lHMMDMj2vdJbaHc-j9HMDzOuB5DiRj9tE6QEcSulUw6Q5eh37cjHhkOMO4cEh2EQ5yY

    Ant’s expression had changed to being sad.


Auguste deflected Ant’s blow, this strength in Auguste, it was something he desired to taste. Ant could feel his stomach bellowing, his breath growing heavy, his saliva almost slipping from the corners of his mouth. His eyes started to flare up, slightly visible through the eyes of the mask. Ant brought his hand to the lower half of his mask intending to unhook it and free his mouth. To eat.

Then horns signifying the end of Capture the Flag blare, signifying the Blue Team’s victory. Blue Team’s victory? Did those useless siblings fail to even grab a piece of cloth? How disappointing… He’ll need to bring back his “Training from Hell,” or so his siblings had named it.

Ant looked to Auguste as he began to walk away, “We’ll continue this fight another time little Auguste.” Ant lunged up back into the tree jumping through and swinging from them back to the tree with the hollow, he quickly removed the pants, hoodie, and red wolf mask, leaving him in his armored clothes. He changed his sneakers out for his combat boots. Ant placed the outfit into the tree’s hollow.

Ant heard a rumbling in the ground, should he investigate? Nah, there was no reason to, probably an over-glorified Big 3 child. He could also visit Callie, and make sure she didn’t know that he was the Red Wolf. Considering this to be of higher priority he decided to go, and as he was walking in the direction where Isaac had dragged Callie off. But on his way over, he had another idea, then another idea, and then another. Ideas on manipulating her into being closer to Ant, and fearing the Red Wolf more. To watch her mind become a wasteland and to tremble at the slightest mention of the word red or wolf. To watch eyes sink into her skull, every time she saw a wolf or heard one howl. But every time she was to see Ant, her fears would fade away. To become Ant’s confidant and protect him from any accusations against him. She would only be one of many though, someone more trusted by camp, as his siblings weren’t such people.

Ant had found Callie and Isaac, and Callie was being healed. Ant readied himself, putting fake worry in his eyes, and shock on his face. Then he rushed over, “Isa!” Ant yelled to Isaac. “I heard what happened from one of my siblings. They said they saw Le Le getting attacked by some guy in a mask when she was passing. Is she okay?” Ant’s eyes looked like tears were about to fall, but none formed. There was also a shaky worry in his voice. His facade was perfect.
 
Before Callie knew it, Isaac had leapt in front of her as she lay sprawled on the ground trying her best to get to her feet. "Isaac, don't!" She called weakly from her position.

"FUCK YES, AUGUSTE!" She was alarmed by the sudden outburst from her battle partner, but realisation hit her when her half-brother came out of nowhere and landed a blow to the head of her mystery attacker. It was all too much to process. Callie let her head lull and her eyes close, not unconscious but slowly losing it from exhaustion and pain. Her mass of blonde curls sprawled out in all directions like a certain petrifying gorgon.

She felt arms lifting her one placed under her neck and the other under her knees. She knew it was Isaac. She didn't feel like protesting. All she could really manage was a soft groan and really, she was grateful for him so she simply let herself be carried to safety, listening to the clink of his armour.

"Hey, I know I'm not your favorite person in the world right now, but please endure it until I get you some help." Isaac said to her. Callie opened her eyes and muttered,
"Such a Kill Joy. I had him right where I wanted him..." before letting her eyes shut once more and her head rest against his chest as they made their way to the medics area.

It wasn't long before she was being tended to and fed ambrosia which tasted like cookie dough ice cream. Isaac remained with her, which, secretly she was glad of. Especially when he gently squeezed her hand and said:

"You're gonna be alright. I'll be right here with you." She hated feeling alone.

"Isaac?" She began, wanting to express more than just gratitude. Wanting to make peace over their disagreement after two years of not speaking to each other, but perhaps it would seem insincere right now. "Thanks."

At that, someone entered the area. Callie could only make out the silhouette but she flinched. It was her attacker. Callie drew in a panicked breath and gripped Isaac's hand probably too tight before realising it wasn't her attacker, but Antonio Reyes from Ares cabin.

Why was he so concerned about what happened to her? Everybody gets injured in Capture the Flag and no one in his cabin particularly liked her....and did he call her 'Le Le?' eww.









Before Callie knew it, Isaac had leapt in front of her as she lay sprawled on the ground trying her best to get to her feet. "Isaac, don't!" She called weakly from her position.

"FUCK YES, AUGUSTE!" She was alarmed by the sudden outburst from her battle partner, but realisation hit her when her half-brother came out of nowhere and landed a blow to the head of her mystery attacker. It was all too much to process. Callie let her head lull and her eyes close, not unconscious but slowly losing it from exhaustion and pain. Her mass of blonde curls sprawled out in all directions like a certain petrifying gorgon.

She felt arms lifting her one placed under her neck and the other under her knees. She knew it was Isaac. She didn't feel like protesting. All she could really manage was a soft groan and really, she was grateful for him so she simply let herself be carried to safety, listening to the clink of his armour.

"Hey, I know I'm not your favorite person in the world right now, but please endure it until I get you some help." Isaac said to her. Callie opened her eyes and muttered,
"Such a Kill Joy. I had him right where I wanted him..." before letting her eyes shut once more and her head rest against his chest as they made their way to the medics area.

It wasn't long before she was being tended to and fed ambrosia which tasted like cookie dough ice cream. Isaac remained with her, which, secretly she was glad of. Especially when he gently squeezed her hand and said:

"You're gonna be alright. I'll be right here with you." She hated feeling alone.

"Isaac?" She began, wanting to express more than just gratitude. Wanting to make peace over their disagreement after two years of not speaking to each other, but perhaps it would seem insincere right now. "Thanks."

At that, someone entered the area. Callie could only make out the silhouette but she flinched. It was her attacker. Callie drew in a panicked breath and gripped Isaac's hand probably too tight before realising it wasn't her attacker, but Antonio Reyes from Ares cabin.

Why was he so concerned about what happened to her? Everybody gets injured in Capture the Flag and no one in his cabin particularly liked her....and did he call her 'Le Le?' eww.







Daughter of Apollo



Callie.













♡coded by uxie♡
 
Being late for first day back at camp was not intentional. It never was, but once again Faith found herself waking up later than intended because she had decided , like an idiot, to braid her hair the night before camp and it had taken eight long hours. She wasn't sure why she never learned. Even her dad had warned her:

"Don't leave it to the last minute, now Faith. Unless you don't want camp seeing you 'til midnight." He had said with a chuckle.

As always, she was excited to return to Camp Half-blood and be around other demigods like her. Juilliard was great, but there was nothing like pegasus flying or teaching the younger heroes how to make enchanted origami birds that leave rainbow trails everywhere they fly.

She also had a couple of songs she had recorded that she wanted to show to her closest friends at camp. She knew Roman at least would be eager to here it...if he was even at camp. She hadn't seen him in person in almost two years.

It seemed that she had just missed a game of Capture the Flag (thank the gods. They could miss her with that on the first day!). The sound of cheering from the blue team could be heard all the way from the camp entrance where Argus greeted her.

"Hi Argus, I'm sorry I'm late. The-"

"Traffic was rough?" Argus finished with a knowing chuckle. Faith beamed at him angelically. They both knew that wasn't true after all these years.

"You know it!"

A few of her siblings from Iris cabin spotted her and ran over to give her the news of their win.
"Looks like it's blue for the light show, Faithie!" One of her sisters squealed as she initiated a hug.

"Oh? first time in a while huh?" she smiled, a little distracted as she scanned the area in search of her best friend, hoping to spot him around. Nowhere to be seen. But a game of Capture the Flag had just ended, so she held out hope of seeing him.
"I'mma set my bags down and then I'll join the celebrations ok?" She hugged each of them heartily in turn before heading off to her cabin to unpack her things.

She had missed everything about the colourful cabin. Since their weren't a lot of kids living there, she had plenty of space to make her area truly her own. As she set everything in order, she sang to herself. Nothing in particular, just an inspired little tune she had created in the moment.









scroll








daughter of iris



faith.













mood

cheerful











outfit

summer vibes











location

CHB, Iris cabin











interactions

OPEN











tags

n/a















Being late for first day back at camp was not intentional. It never was, but once again Faith found herself waking up later than intended because she had decided , like an idiot, to braid her hair the night before camp and it had taken eight long hours. She wasn't sure why she never learned. Even her dad had warned her:

"Don't leave it to the last minute, now Faith. Unless you don't want camp seeing you 'til midnight." He had said with a chuckle.

As always, she was excited to return to Camp Half-blood and be around other demigods like her. Juilliard was great, but there was nothing like pegasus flying or teaching the younger heroes how to make enchanted origami birds that leave rainbow trails everywhere they fly.

She also had a couple of songs she had recorded that she wanted to show to her closest friends at camp. She knew Roman at least would be eager to here it...if he was even at camp. She hadn't seen him in person in almost two years.

It seemed that she had just missed a game of Capture the Flag (thank the gods. They could miss her with that on the first day!). The sound of cheering from the blue team could be heard all the way from the camp entrance where Argus greeted her.

"Hi Argus, I'm sorry I'm late. The-"

"Traffic was rough?" Argus finished with a knowing chuckle. Faith beamed at him angelically. They both knew that wasn't true after all these years.

"You know it!"

A few of her siblings from Iris cabin spotted her and ran over to give her the news of their win.
"Looks like it's blue for the light show, Faithie!" One of her sisters squealed as she initiated a hug.

"Oh? first time in a while huh?" she smiled, a little distracted as she scanned the area in search of her best friend, hoping to spot him around. Nowhere to be seen. But a game of Capture the Flag had just ended, so she held out hope of seeing him.
"I'mma set my bags down and then I'll join the celebrations ok?" She hugged each of them heartily in turn before heading off to her cabin to unpack her things.

She had missed everything about the colourful cabin. Since their weren't a lot of kids living there, she had plenty of space to make her area truly her own. As she set everything in order, she sang to herself. Nothing in particular, just an inspired little tune she had created in the moment.


♡coded by uxie♡
 
teilo griffiths
mood
tired

outfit
grey hoodie, light blue jeans

location
cabin circle

tags
open

parent
hypnos

Teilo liked the summer campers.
He did, really, he did. They filled out the empty space quite nicely, made it easier to slip from place to place unnoticed. Also, as one of camp's older residents, he found that many of the fresh-faced, red-cheeked children of the Olympians were a little intimidated by him. It was nice, too, to see the familiar mixed with the new. He could respect all of this as the cycle of life while also hating, with a passion, all the nightmares that the summer campers brought with them through the border.

Having slept through Capture the Flag, Teilo had woken in a haze and failed to remind himself that this was the day of the trickle-through. It should have been obvious from all the shouting outside, or the stink in the air, but nothing clicked until he went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and looked up to find Bloody Mary staring back at him.

She was standing right behind him, her hair black and straggled, her eyes bleeding black gunk into the crevices and cracks of her sheet-white face. A great stain pooled around the collar of her gown, and from the look of her pin-sharp teeth and the shade of the red splotch, he was quick to discern that she'd likely already had her breakfast this morning. All of these details were noticed after Teilo had spat a spray of toothpaste onto the mirror with a resounding shout of: "Shit!"

Mary did not respond. She just stood there. She didn't breathe, and luckily whoever had dreamt her had failed to give her the ability to exist outside of the square, reflective prison she'd been trapped in. He supposed he'd have to thank whichever child had been foolish enough to read scary stories before attending Camp Half-Blood for imposing a set of rules on the horrifying woman watching him get ready for the day.

He got ready in record time. He was already late and rather likely to get a kicking from someone or another, but he considered being terrorised by a folk tale a rather good excuse. Before he left, his hair still damp from the shower, he wiped some of the mist from the mirror and took another peek at the vision of horror before him. "You look nothing like your portraits, y'know."

With little left to say to her, he made his way out into the cabin circle. Here, the rest of the creatures descended.
A huge spider with far too many legs stalked a little girl (a child of Athena, he assumed). A trail of teeth followed a teenage boy. There was a clown sitting by the firepit, their face gored by something or another. Overhead, a murder of crows chattered amongst themselves, and in the distance a tornado threatened to descend on the place he begrudgingly called home. A man made of shadows and teeth poked his head around the corner of the Hades cabin and wiggled his tendril-like fingers as a greeting in Teilo's direction. Ever graced with his manners, Teilo responded with a curt nod and a tight-lipped smile.
None of these things were real, but there they were, out in the open. He had wondered for a while, idly, if they could all see each other. It didn't seem so preposterous.

He was aware of how strange he must have looked as he stood in the centre of the cabin circle, staring at nothing and waving at thin air, but he was also aware that every damned kid at this place was strange in ways that he couldn't even imagine. A freak in a land of freaks. He could work with that. Sure, Teilo saw nightmares as others saw pigeons and other pest-like animals, but there was somebody in Camp Half-Blood who was having bad dreams about creatures made of living hair and another who was being terrorised by the number eight. It was fine. Everything was fine.

Despite his mantra, he had a feeling in the pit of his chest that something, somewhere, was definitely not fine.


coded by reveriee.
 
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Capture the Flag----Red Team Loses​
1706297465301.pngAfter summoning a few of his undead legion, Roman took the opportunity he created for himself to vanish further into the woods. With his legion and himself focusing on the Percy and the others, he didn't realize someone slipping through the cracks. Apparently someone manage to steal the red teams flag and take it back to the blue teams side, and ended the game with the sounding of horns. Hear Chiron announcing the winners, Roman stops in his tracks and lets out a disappointing sigh. "Well, I guess we starting my first day off with a lost." He says in Spanish as his Dominican accent is dominant. "Oh before I forget." He says to himself again in Spanish. He eyes, once again flash pitch black as the skeleton legion that was summoned, collapse to the ground, and their bones and remains all turn into ash before their eyes. A gentle breeze blows and all the remains scatter into the wind. He walked through the forest exiting into a clearing, when suddenly he felt the ground shaking beneath his feet. He braced himself for whatever was to follow, but nothing came. However, during the earthquake he felt a sensation of death coming over him from a certain direction. It was as if the gates of hell had opened up. Gripping tightly onto his shortened spear, Roman takes off into this direction. There was no thought in his mind, he didn't process anything before hand, he instinctively just had the urge to run in that direction.

His body moving on his own.

As he arrived at the source, he came to a halt a couple of yards away from the sight. He immediately starting looking around, examining what's happening. The first thing he noticed was a pitch black horse, floating in air with a black knight sitting on top of it. The next thing he noticed was a sinkhole spewing out the essence of Death, and the a familiar essence of the Underworld. But it was something much deeper and ancient. Tartarus. He thought to himself.

Who is that?

What are they doing here?

Questions continued forming into Roman's mind as he continued watching with anticipation. His ADHD was on high alert, as his body was itching and ready for anything. His grip on upon Twisted Knights were tight enough to whiten his knuckles. As the event played out, Roman continued watching, and even got himself in his ready stance, when he say the hand reaching out from the hole. But as the scene continued to playout, the hand was dispatched, the giant hole was closed, and the knight's identity was revealed. As the campers, starred at him in awe, and horror, Roman remained stoic and silent. The helm of darkness, told him all he needed to know so far. Another child of Hades had been claimed. Seems like their cabin was filling up pretty fast.

Looking upon the his new found brother, Roman lets out a high pitched whistle grabbing multiple attention from some of the campers as he begins approaching him. Some where surprised to see him, others had no idea who he was, much like the Knight. As he does that, the shadows begin to coat his entire body, before dispersing back into the world. Once the shadows dispersed, Roman's armor was no longer there, and neither was his spear. Everything was placed back into the shadows for usage later. He was standing there wearing his black and gold camp half-blood shirt, his gold Dominican Republic necklace, a gold bracelet, earrings, and a gold signet ring on his left thumb. "¿Qué lo que?" He says to Spencer, sticking his hand out going for a hand shake. "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. Looks like you're in the Hades cabin." He say pointing up towards the Helm of Darkness floating over his head. "We reside in Cabin 13, I'll show you the way. My name is Roman, son of Hades." If Spencer was willing, Roman would immediately start guiding him towards their cabin and out of amongst the crowd of campers.
 











Celaena Saria


Daughter of Hades - Camper










Mood:


Annoyed, Hurt, Tired, and Not Amused







Location:


Camp Half-Blood: Hades Cabin







Outfit:


click me!








Tags:




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Red orbs blazed as Sarield slowly led her mistress to the cabin. Her paw steps were light and careful as she kept next to Celaena. Her strong jaws snapped at any camper that dared to try to approach. A near-constant deadly growl rumbling from her chest. The hellhound gently helped Cel lean against the wall of the cabin before she nudged the door open with her muzzle. The hellhound carefully led Celaena to her bed before trotting to a slightly open cabinet next to the bed. Her jaws carefully grasped a first aid kit before she sat down next to Cel and dropped it in her hand.

Celaena's icy gaze was pained as she carefully allowed her loyal companion to help her to her cabin. Her shoulder throbbed, and her leg sent a sharp pain through her body with every step. Her hair was a mess, flyaway strands haphazardly strewn across her face. Her eyes closed as she sank down onto her comfortable bed. The dark navy blue, almost black, silk comforter enveloped her body as she sighed in relief. The claws across the floor caused her eyes to open as she saw what her companion had brought her. A soft look crossed her elegant features as she smiled. "Thank you, Sariel." Her Australian-accented voice was quiet as she took the kit and carefully peeled her armor off her body. Tanned skin was speckled in various shades of dark blue and purple bruises alongside her two main wounds. A long scratch extended across her left collarbone, the arrow wound on the left side dripping crimson down her back. Her hip ached fiercely, and she could feel blood drying against the fabric.

Delicate fingers unraveled gauze, and Sariel watched as Cel began to wrap her shoulder. Her ears twitched up and forward as she heard Roman and scented a new male. Her fur rose, and her teeth flashed as she settled herself outside the Cabin protectively. Her red orbs dangerously narrow as she dared the new siblings to approach while Celaena was vulnerable. Celaena slowly wrapped the gauze around and winced as she tightened it and took a deep breath, ignoring her hound's reaction as she leaned against the headboard of her bed before working on her hip. The pristine white gauze was quickly dyed crimson as Cel finished wrapping her wounds from the game. "Sariel, what is it?" Her voice wavered uneasily as anxiety rushed through her veins.












♡design by stardust galaxy, coded by uxie♡

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Last edited:
Larua Eldrige
Location: Blue flag into forest
Mentions: qunqun qunqun
​
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Laura had only gone a little distance before she honestly started to get tired, yeah it was pathetic even compared to normal people she tired easily and her lack of exercise didn't help. The standing she had done for the stupid game had been enough to make her already start to get a little sore. The sore ache of pain didn't help Laura's mood at all. Well nothing really would as she had to much to think about and would no doubt stew on most of it and only try to sink deeper into seclusion. That was the cycle of things when Laura came out always she did something or someone said something that only made her hate everything even more.

As Laura paused to think and rest a bit she felt in the back of her mind that someone was close. She had not battle senses, but every last human had the sense that something is right behind me. The fact they said nothing annoyed Laura as much as them existing near her, or existing in general. When they started to go around her Laura was fed up with them as not only did they get to close to her they were now pretending she wasn't there. these people were supposed to be heroes so where was the kind offer to help someone who was so obviously having issues walking.

Laura turned to look to see who the new asshole was and saw it was Auguste who had somehow dodged her seeker bullets. Darn super human agility the half bloods had that they could manage to move just in time. Well laura had known the seekers were unlikely to really do much anyways. The smart thing would be to say nothing, but Laura didn't always do the smart thing.

" I thought here was training fucking heroes not gods dammed by standers " Laura growled looking up at Auguste her anger flaring up " Really do you not even know that when you see someone trouble you should fucking offer help?" she asked rhetorically already starting to pick another fight with someone hat could take her out in a punch if that. " Did asking if the obvious cripple needs any help never cross your mind? Is it just filled with air or is all you half bloods can think of strength?" she continued now pasuing as if to tell him it was his turn.
 

  • The horn blew, a Hermes kid had captured red flag, but that was definitely not the thing that had captured Bryce's attention. He lost his balance as a giant crack split in the ground near him. A giant, purple hand burst through the hole and then a guy clad all in black armour. Bryce had seen some weird stuff at camp, but this was different. That was a hole that led back to Tartarus and he definitely had not hallucinated it because everyone else around him reacted with either awe or horror.

    Thankfully the crack in the ground was quickly closed and then the black-clad guy was claimed by Hades. Well, damn. Three in one day? Bryce sighed, not really wanting to deal with anyone's drama anymore. He ended the mist form enchantment of the minotaur and walked away from the chaos before he could possibly get dragged into it again.

    He made his way out of the forest, weaved his way through chattering campers and over to the cabin circle where he could retreat into cabin twenty. It was as he passed Hypnos cabin when he noticed someone who's name he could not recall waving amiably at thin air.

    It wasn't thin air. Although Bryce did not know this son of Hypnos personally, he did pay attention to what other campers could do. He was probably waving at literal dreams and despite himself, Bryce was curious.

    "Who are you talking to?" he asked curtly, not one for small talk.









    scroll








    son of hecate



    bryce.













    mood

    curious











    outfit

    black tee and black jeans with sneakers











    location

    CHB, cabin circle











    interactions

    Teilo











    tags

    fraxiom fraxiom















    The horn blew, a Hermes kid had captured red flag, but that was definitely not the thing that had captured Bryce's attention. He lost his balance as a giant crack split in the ground near him. A giant, purple hand burst through the hole and then a guy clad all in black armour. Bryce had seen some weird stuff at camp, but this was different. That was a hole that led back to Tartarus and he definitely had not hallucinated it because everyone else around him reacted with either awe or horror.

    Thankfully the crack in the ground was quickly closed and then the black-clad guy was claimed by Hades. Well, damn. Three in one day? Bryce sighed, not really wanting to deal with anyone's drama anymore. He ended the mist form enchantment of the minotaur and walked away from the chaos before he could possibly get dragged into it again.

    He made his way out of the forest, weaved his way through chattering campers and over to the cabin circle where he could retreat into cabin twenty. It was as he passed Hypnos cabin when he noticed someone who's name he could not recall waving amiably at thin air.

    It wasn't thin air. Although Bryce did not know this son of Hypnos personally, he did pay attention to what other campers could do. He was probably waving at literal dreams and despite himself, Bryce was curious.

    "Who are you talking to?" he asked curtly, not one for small talk.


    ♡coded by uxie♡

 
Isaac was content staying by Callie's side. He was determined to do everything to make sure she was comfortable, from turning her pillow every now and then to ensure her head was comfortably resting on the cold side to feeding her some warm chicken soup and wiping the sweat from her forehead. Unfortunately, their time was abruptly interrupted when a somewhat familiar-looking figure rushed to Callie's side, expressing their concern. Only there was something wrong about the scene unfolding before him. Callie's assailant may have worn a mask to hide their identity, but he couldn't have hidden the fact that he towered above the rest of the campers. Considering only a handful of people fit the bill, and Auguste already proving his innocence by saving them from the red Yeti, it was glaringly obvious who had almost killed Callie back in the woods.

The question that prevailed in his head was why the masked, frustrated murderer was acting in such a familiar yet cringey way towards Callie. He knew how to read emotions and determine whether or not they were genuine even without using his powers, and this act that the redhead son of Ares tried to portray had the makings of a kindergartner's first ever dramatic recital: he might think that he was performing a spectacle worthy of Shakespeare himself, but he wasn't pulling the wool over Isaac's eyes any time soon.

From the hundreds of crime dramas and documentaries Isaac had watched, he knew that every criminal act is perpetuated by a motive.... and for most criminals, fulfilling the motive is what ultimately brings them the greatest joy and satisfaction. There was only one way he was getting his answers, and he was willing to cross any line if it meant protecting the blonde girl laying on the bed beside him.

Without so much as changing his breathing pattern or expressing any emotion, Isaac went to work, using his powers to determine what the child of Ares desires from feigning concern for Callie. It took all of his willpower to hold back his rage and retain the mask of a serene, welcoming, and grateful smile. This twisted asshole wants to basically condition the woman of his dreams into nothing more than one of Pavlov's dogs, all for his personal satisfaction. If he had any qualms about using his powers in a sinister fashion, those had been thrown out the window with this recent discovery.

However, as much as he would have liked to turn Antonio into a catatonic vegetable right then and there, he was still in a precarious spot. With him barely getting through to Callie today after 2 years of awkward silence and heartrending avoidance. If he were to do something that would truly upset her, then he can kiss his chances of repairing their friendship goodbye, let alone his chances of being with her.

Begrudgingly, he maintained his facade and smiled pleasantly at Antonio. If he were to save Callie from his malicious machinations, Isaac needed to fully earn her trust back. Otherwise, anything he say or do would just result in his actions coming back to bite him.

"She's doing just fine. Some masked maniac attacked us in the woods and almost killed her but thanks to Auguste, I was able to get her out in time. I appreciate your concern, bro. However, I think she still needs some time to rest." Isaac said to Antonio in a grateful tone, perfectly hiding the disgust and rage coursing through his body at that moment.

But that wasn't enough. If Antonio were to buy into Isaac not suspecting him that he was the masked would-be murderer, he needed to sell that fact to the son of Ares. Fortunately for Isaac, comedians are inherently convincing liars, and his godly mother is the best of them all.

"Still, I'm actually alarmed that someone would try to hurt her so badly. She's practically the nicest person at camp, wouldn't you agree?" For any convincing lie, it needs to be coated with an undeniable truth.

"So whoever the person who attacked as is, must be some sort of psychopath. It's a shame I didn't get to do anything about that mask though." Next, he stresses the fact the criminal wants to conceal, his identity. By providing confirmation that he has no clues yet on their attacker's identity, he is providing their assailant the pleasant and relieving news they wish to hear.

"I swear on the godsdamned Styx that I'll make whoever did this to her pay." A promise born out of passion adds to the truthfulness of his words, especially if he would go so far as to swear to the River Styx.

"I'll be eternally grateful if you could help me track that bastard down. Having a reliable person like you around helping my investigation would be very reassuring." The final nail in the coffin to convince their attacker that they don't suspect a thing is to place trust in them. Just as Antonio had done, most criminals can't help but return to the scene of the crime or visit a victim, either as a misplaced play to prove their innocence by acting as a bystander, or to admire their handiwork. Isaac had stepped it up a notch in removing any possible suspicion on Antonio by actually asking him for help. After all, the most comfortable place a criminal could be in a criminal investigation is to actually be a trusted consultant in said investigation rather than just to be out of the potential list of suspects.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer... that's the principle Isaac convinced himself to act upon. The most important thing he needs to do is to remain patient and bid his time, even if that meant that he'd have to stomach Antonio's malicious advances on Callie while trying to protect her from succumbing to his machinations. In the end, he hopes he could regain her trust quickly enough to save her from the worst of his plans.












Isaac was content staying by Callie's side. He was determined to do everything to make sure she was comfortable, from turning her pillow every now and then to ensure her head was comfortably resting on the cold side to feeding her some warm chicken soup and wiping the sweat from her forehead. Unfortunately, their time was abruptly interrupted when a somewhat familiar-looking figure rushed to Callie's side, expressing their concern. Only there was something wrong about the scene unfolding before him. Callie's assailant may have worn a mask to hide their identity, but he couldn't have hidden the fact that he towered above the rest of the campers. Considering only a handful of people fit the bill, and Auguste already proving his innocence by saving them from the red Yeti, it was glaringly obvious who had almost killed Callie back in the woods.

The question that prevailed in his head was why the masked, frustrated murderer was acting in such a familiar yet cringey way towards Callie. He knew how to read emotions and determine whether or not they were genuine even without using his powers, and this act that the redhead son of Ares tried to portray had the makings of a kindergartner's first ever dramatic recital: he might think that he was performing a spectacle worthy of Shakespeare himself, but he wasn't pulling the wool over Isaac's eyes any time soon.

From the hundreds of crime dramas and documentaries Isaac had watched, he knew that every criminal act is perpetuated by a motive.... and for most criminals, fulfilling the motive is what ultimately brings them the greatest joy and satisfaction. There was only one way he was getting his answers, and he was willing to cross any line if it meant protecting the blonde girl laying on the bed beside him.

Without so much as changing his breathing pattern or expressing any emotion, Isaac went to work, using his powers to determine what the child of Ares desires from feigning concern for Callie. It took all of his willpower to hold back his rage and retain the mask of a serene, welcoming, and grateful smile. This twisted asshole wants to basically condition the woman of his dreams into nothing more than one of Pavlov's dogs, all for his personal satisfaction. If he had any qualms about using his powers in a sinister fashion, those had been thrown out the window with this recent discovery.

However, as much as he would have liked to turn Antonio into a catatonic vegetable right then and there, he was still in a precarious spot. With him barely getting through to Callie today after 2 years of awkward silence and heartrending avoidance. If he were to do something that would truly upset her, then he can kiss his chances of repairing their friendship goodbye, let alone his chances of being with her.

Begrudgingly, he maintained his facade and smiled pleasantly at Antonio. If he were to save Callie from his malicious machinations, Isaac needed to fully earn her trust back. Otherwise, anything he say or do would just result in his actions coming back to bite him.

"She's doing just fine. Some masked maniac attacked us in the woods and almost killed her but thanks to Auguste, I was able to get her out in time. I appreciate your concern, bro. However, I think she still needs some time to rest." Isaac said to Antonio in a grateful tone, perfectly hiding the disgust and rage coursing through his body at that moment.

But that wasn't enough. If Antonio were to buy into Isaac not suspecting him that he was the masked would-be murderer, he needed to sell that fact to the son of Ares. Fortunately for Isaac, comedians are inherently convincing liars, and his godly mother is the best of them all.

"Still, I'm actually alarmed that someone would try to hurt her so badly. She's practically the nicest person at camp, wouldn't you agree?" For any convincing lie, it needs to be coated with an undeniable truth.

"So whoever the person who attacked as is, must be some sort of psychopath. It's a shame I didn't get to do anything about that mask though." Next, he stresses the fact the criminal wants to conceal, his identity. By providing confirmation that he has no clues yet on their attacker's identity, he is providing their assailant the pleasant and relieving news they wish to hear.

"I swear on the godsdamned Styx that I'll make whoever did this to her pay." A promise born out of passion adds to the truthfulness of his words, especially if he would go so far as to swear to the River Styx.

"I'll be eternally grateful if you could help me track that bastard down. Having a reliable person like you around helping my investigation would be very reassuring." The final nail in the coffin to convince their attacker that they don't suspect a thing is to place trust in them. Just as Antonio had done, most criminals can't help but return to the scene of the crime or visit a victim, either as a misplaced play to prove their innocence by acting as a bystander, or to admire their handiwork. Isaac had stepped it up a notch in removing any possible suspicion on Antonio by actually asking him for help. After all, the most comfortable place a criminal could be in a criminal investigation is to actually be a trusted consultant in said investigation rather than just to be out of the potential list of suspects.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer... that's the principle Isaac convinced himself to act upon. The most important thing he needs to do is to remain patient and bid his time, even if that meant that he'd have to stomach Antonio's malicious advances on Callie while trying to protect her from succumbing to his machinations. In the end, he hopes he could regain her trust quickly enough to save her from the worst of his plans.








the clown prince



Isaac.








  • filler tab!





♡coded by uxie♡
 

  • There they were, in all their glory, these creatures usually so bound to the night wandering around Camp Half-Blood like they belonged there just as much as the demigods that populated the cabins. It was hard not to assign personalities to the nightmare entities; Teilo saw them as corporeal spirits, just as vulnerable and alive as the animals, the plants. They needed feeding. It wasn't necessarily their fault that they fed off of fear.

    The people he'd known before, the demigods who had lived in slums, sewers and alleyways, had given him visions of lives lived with regret. There was nothing quite like the nightmare of a lonely man. It was Teilo's theory that the more horrifying events a person went through, the more realistic their dreams; the half-gods that had trained him had had nightmares of mothers and fathers, people and animals. It was nice, in a way, to watch the procession of absurdity that was the camp's dream roster. It made it easier to tell the difference between one dimensional being and the other.

    For example, when a man arrived to ask him who he was talking to, Teilo knew immediately that this was a real person, not some figment of somebody's troubled past. This certainty was added to by the smell of him – not a bad smell by any means, just a living smell. Nightmares generally tended to carry a scent of cheese and sulphur. With this in mind, his eyes landed on the new arrival to scrutinise him for a moment, a quick search of malintent that came up with nothing. He deigned to respond honestly. "Have you ever heard of the Hat Man?" He asked, his voice rising and falling with the melodic chimes of his native accent. "You know when you're sort of half asleep and you convince yourself that the coat rack in the corner is a malevolent being come to take your soul? The Hat Man, right? He's hanging by the Hades cabin. Gave me a wave. Would've been rude not to wave back. Don't really fancy pissing off the Hat Man. Already had a run in with Bloody pissing Mary this morning, I don't want another incident with him." He explained nonchalantly, and once he was finished he sniffed, shrugged, then returned his attention to the son of Hecate before him. "Have we met? I'm terrible with faces, you'll have to forgive me. Teilo Griffiths." He introduced himself with a non-commital half-wave. "I'd reassure you I'm not a headcase, but I can never be sure. Have you come from Capture the Flag? Did you win?"

    teilo griffiths
    mood
    calm

    outfit
    grey hoodie, light blue jeans

    location
    cabin circle

    tags
    bryce PixieDust PixieDust

    parent
    hypnos

    There they were, in all their glory, these creatures usually so bound to the night wandering around Camp Half-Blood like they belonged there just as much as the demigods that populated the cabins. It was hard not to assign personalities to the nightmare entities; Teilo saw them as corporeal spirits, just as vulnerable and alive as the animals, the plants. They needed feeding. It wasn't necessarily their fault that they fed off of fear.

    The people he'd known before, the demigods who had lived in slums, sewers and alleyways, had given him visions of lives lived with regret. There was nothing quite like the nightmare of a lonely man. It was Teilo's theory that the more horrifying events a person went through, the more realistic their dreams; the half-gods that had trained him had had nightmares of mothers and fathers, people and animals. It was nice, in a way, to watch the procession of absurdity that was the camp's dream roster. It made it easier to tell the difference between one dimensional being and the other.

    For example, when a man arrived to ask him who he was talking to, Teilo knew immediately that this was a real person, not some figment of somebody's troubled past. This certainty was added to by the smell of him – not a bad smell by any means, just a living smell. Nightmares generally tended to carry a scent of cheese and sulphur. With this in mind, his eyes landed on the new arrival to scrutinise him for a moment, a quick search of malintent that came up with nothing. He deigned to respond honestly. "Have you ever heard of the Hat Man?" He asked, his voice rising and falling with the melodic chimes of his native accent. "You know when you're sort of half asleep and you convince yourself that the coat rack in the corner is a malevolent being come to take your soul? The Hat Man, right? He's hanging by the Hades cabin. Gave me a wave. Would've been rude not to wave back. Don't really fancy pissing off the Hat Man. Already had a run in with Bloody pissing Mary this morning, I don't want another incident with him." He explained nonchalantly, and once he was finished he sniffed, shrugged, then returned his attention to the son of Hecate before him. "Have we met? I'm terrible with faces, you'll have to forgive me. Teilo Griffiths." He introduced himself with a non-commital half-wave. "I'd reassure you I'm not a headcase, but I can never be sure. Have you come from Capture the Flag? Did you win?"

    coded by reveriee.

 
Micheal Jones

  • 1706589548363.png
    Confused and intruiged.


Mikey hugged his moms tightly as he thought about the trip he was about to embark on to 'Camp Half-Blood.' He said his goodbyes to them before he began his walk to the flight gate to the U.S. On his way to the gate, he suddenly lost consciousness and collapsed forward. "Mikey!" His moms yelled out, rushing over to help him. It took Mikey a couple of hours to wake up, but once did, he realized he had missed his flight and would have to get the later one.

Mikey had made it to the gate this time. He goes through the gate and to his plane. "Everything Is Going To Be Juuuust Fine." He said to himself on his way to the U.S. Unbeknownst to Mikey the engine almost exploded after being attacked by harpies, The Pegasus dealt with them under Poseidon's request, but Mikey didn't know due to being unconscious once again due to his narcolepsy.

When Mikey's plane landed he had to be woken up by one of the flight attendants after everyone else got off. He quickly grabbed his bag and got off the plane scared by the flight attendant's interaction with him. He rushed out the airport and went straight to a bus stop, taking several breaks to catch his breath. After making it to a bus stop Mikey waited half an hour for a bus to arrive, only to pass out once more. Once he woke up an hour later, he realized the bus he needed to get on came and left a while ago.

Mikey felt a sense of dread as he realized he had to walk the entire way to camp, he swore that he had some sort of curse of unluckiness was placed on him. After 3 exhausting hours of walking, he finally made it to Camp Half-Blood. "Finally..." He muttered, feeling like he was about to pass out once more, but before that, he saw a girl who looked like an ethereal being, similar to a Disney princess. His sight slowly began to fade and his eyes were half-lidded. "Shit..." Mikey muttered as he collapsed, faceplanting right into the dirt.
 





The Prodigy.















scroll

Auguste



The Prodigy




ㅎㅎ















MOOD




get out of the way :c











OUTFIT




Basically Pajamas











LOCATION




Talking to someone :c











MENTIONS




Laura









INTERACTS




Karcen Karcen

















Eat Your Young — Hozier.
































































scroll






Metamorphosis.




Continual cycling, never ending, the same things rise and fall and repeat






























Aftermath.

Oh, she was yelling at him now. She was not okay. He slowly turned around to stare down at her. There was a tilt of the head.

A pause.

“... Why? Disabled people live long, fulfilled, and happy lives without people constantly condescending to them about being incapable and needing help.”

Simple. He just looked somewhat confused by the entire debacle. Not even the slightest temper flare at Laura shouting at him. She didn’t seem to be in any pressing danger, after all. No tree was about to fall onto her. No weird dude with a knife trying to steal her kidneys. No murderous 6’9 furry was about to curb stomp her into the ground… Perfectly safe!

What was a normal person supposed to do here? Feel bad? He didn't, not really… Something nagging at the back of his head said that she was just looking for a reason to be pissed off anyways...

... This manifested as a very slow blink and an incredibly blank face.

“... Was that not a hypothetical moral dilemma. Was that you asking for help.”





























♡coded by uxie♡
 
Spencer was already bloody confused when his bastard of a father decided to claim him now of all times. He will never forget how Hades himself tried to kill him before he condemned him to Tartarus, thinking if he survived the Hydra poison, the endless hordes of monsters would have finished him off. Now that he has raised the proverbial middle finger to his deadbeat father by escaping his confinement, not only does he get claimed without any warning, he then finds out that the fucker had other children?! What the fuck happened to the pact of the Big 3?

Roman, the guy who casually introduced himself as his half-brother, extended his hand for a handshake. He may as well have extended his middle finger to him with that gesture.

Spencer promptly knocked Roman's hand away in disgust, staring daggers at his half-brother as he confronted him, clutching the collar of his shirt.

"Why the fuck are you alive? Why didn't our good for nothing father try to kill you and cast you into Tartarus like he did to me?" Spencer screamed in outrage, though if Roman were observe, there was a lot more hurt and confusion than actual anger in his voice.

Not waiting for Roman's answer, he let him go an began observing his surroundings once again... In a way, this Camp Half-Blood felt familiar to Camp Jupiter and yet foreign at the same time. The campers wear colored shirts with logos of their camp, and they did activities that mimicked real combat. And yet the atmosphere seemed more relaxed compared to the militaristic vibe of the Roman Camp.
All these thoughts about Camp Jupiter have finally allowed his mind to form the question he should have asked in the first place. "What... what year is it?"

If barely enough time had passed since his forced exile, then there was still a chance he could overcome his greatest regret and even forgive his father for what he had done... but if he had spent the equivalent of five centuries in Tartarus, he was dreading the answer Roman would provide for his last, yet most important question.













Spencer was already bloody confused when his bastard of a father decided to claim him now of all times. He will never forget how Hades himself tried to kill him before he condemned him to Tartarus, thinking if he survived the Hydra poison, the endless hordes of monsters would have finished him off. Now that he has raised the proverbial middle finger to his deadbeat father by escaping his confinement, not only does he get claimed without any warning, he then finds out that the fucker had other children?! What the fuck happened to the pact of the Big 3?

Roman, the guy who casually introduced himself as his half-brother, extended his hand for a handshake. He may as well have extended his middle finger to him with that gesture.

Spencer promptly knocked Roman's hand away in disgust, staring daggers at his half-brother as he confronted him, clutching the collar of his shirt.

"Why the fuck are you alive? Why didn't our good for nothing father try to kill you and cast you into Tartarus like he did to me?" Spencer screamed in outrage, though if Roman were observe, there was a lot more hurt and confusion than actual anger in his voice.

Not waiting for Roman's answer, he let him go an began observing his surroundings once again... In a way, this Camp Half-Blood felt familiar to Camp Jupiter and yet foreign at the same time. The campers wear colored shirts with logos of their camp, and they did activities that mimicked real combat. And yet the atmosphere seemed more relaxed compared to the militaristic vibe of the Roman Camp.
All these thoughts about Camp Jupiter have finally allowed his mind to form the question he should have asked in the first place. "What... what year is it?"

If barely enough time had passed since his forced exile, then there was still a chance he could overcome his greatest regret and even forgive his father for what he had done... but if he had spent the equivalent of five centuries in Tartarus, he was dreading the answer Roman would provide for his last, yet most important question.









the exiled one



Spencer








  • filler tab!





♡coded by uxie♡
 

  • Jude's sunny, cinematic entrance to Camp Half-Blood was paused prematurely by the unexpected arrival of another presence, then cut off like a guillotine when said presence dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

    She'd turned when the sound of leaves being crushed underfoot brushed her ears, ready to greet whichever face had arrived at her side, and landed her eyes on a bedraggled young man soon enough to see his knees buckle and his body fall gracelessly forward. "Oh!" Escaped her quickly, the noise of shock rising from the pit of her stomach and bursting into the air like the mere syllable would cushion his fall. It didn't. A nasty way to land.

    There was at once a feeling of anxiety in the daughter of Hephaestus, a short but immense load of panic; soon, though, the voice of reason took over. She rushed to the side of the stranger, noting that she didn't recognise him from the prior years she'd been a resident of the demigod encampment as she reached out to search for a pulse and assess the situation. "Hey, darling," she spoke softly. He probably couldn't hear her. It didn't matter. "I'm gonna grab your arm for a second, I just need to check you're alive." Her fingers pressed firmly on the boy's wrist, and... There — a pulse. Unconscious, but alive. "Oh, good. Good. Okay. My name's Jude, by the way. I'm gonna move you now so you're a little more comfortable. So I'm just gonna shift you onto your back, like..." She braced to move him, then found that the kid wasn't as heavy as she was anticipating. It was a small victory, but a short one. Her mind was rapid firing all the reasons someone would collapse in the way that he had — malnourishment, maybe? Dehydration? "That. You're doing really well. I'm gonna move you onto your side now, lovely."

    With a few limb manoeuvres and a couple more soft words of praise, she'd shifted the kid into a recovery position. "You look like you've been through the wars, don't you? You'll be alright now. I just need..." She looked up and around, but there was nobody. Everyone was coming back from Capture the Flag — there would be no second fiddle in this orchestra. "Okay, nobody around. That's okay. You're not bleeding anywhere, are you? Nothing looks egregiously broken. That's wonderful. Excellent fall, by the way. Very dramatic entrance, I love the theatrics of it all. You really got my blood pumping. Can you hear me at all in there, darling?"
    ​
    ​
    jude roux
    mood
    concerned

    outfit
    chb tee, dungarees

    location
    by the border

    tags
    mikey SolsticeArcanum SolsticeArcanum

    parent
    hephaestus

    Jude's sunny, cinematic entrance to Camp Half-Blood was paused prematurely by the unexpected arrival of another presence, then cut off like a guillotine when said presence dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

    She'd turned when the sound of leaves being crushed underfoot brushed her ears, ready to greet whichever face had arrived at her side, and landed her eyes on a bedraggled young man soon enough to see his knees buckle and his body fall gracelessly forward. "Oh!" Escaped her quickly, the noise of shock rising from the pit of her stomach and bursting into the air like the mere syllable would cushion his fall. It didn't. A nasty way to land.

    There was at once a feeling of anxiety in the daughter of Hephaestus, a short but immense load of panic; soon, though, the voice of reason took over. She rushed to the side of the stranger, noting that she didn't recognise him from the prior years she'd been a resident of the demigod encampment as she reached out to search for a pulse and assess the situation. "Hey, darling," she spoke softly. He probably couldn't hear her. It didn't matter. "I'm gonna grab your arm for a second, I just need to check you're alive." Her fingers pressed firmly on the boy's wrist, and... There — a pulse. Unconscious, but alive. "Oh, good. Good. Okay. My name's Jude, by the way. I'm gonna move you now so you're a little more comfortable. So I'm just gonna shift you onto your back, like..." She braced to move him, then found that the kid wasn't as heavy as she was anticipating. It was a small victory, but a short one. Her mind was rapid firing all the reasons someone would collapse in the way that he had — malnourishment, maybe? Dehydration? "That. You're doing really well. I'm gonna move you onto your side now, lovely."

    With a few limb manoeuvres and a couple more soft words of praise, she'd shifted the kid into a recovery position. "You look like you've been through the wars, don't you? You'll be alright now. I just need..." She looked up and around, but there was nobody. Everyone was coming back from Capture the Flag — there would be no second fiddle in this orchestra. "Okay, nobody around. That's okay. You're not bleeding anywhere, are you? Nothing looks egregiously broken. That's wonderful. Excellent fall, by the way. Very dramatic entrance, I love the theatrics of it all. You really got my blood pumping. Can you hear me at all in there, darling?"



    coded by reveriee.

 
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