Fandom .Knights of Olympus...IC...Closed.

[WhispFlick]

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Tradition; tra-di-tion.

The transmission of customs or beliefs from generation to generation, or the fact of being passed on in this way. An unwritten law. A practice built into the fabric of a society.

All cultures and groups have their own tradition. For example: When a Westerner shakes hands with a friend or an acquaintance versus how someone from Portugal may find it better suited to kiss friends on each cheek twice.

Your community’s tradition is simply an unwritten law. Something that must happen. If it doesn’t, it’s scene as obscene. If it is broken, you will be the outcast.

At Camp Half-Blood, home of the Greek demigods, tradition includes things such as capture the flag. Or more commonly: a bonfire. There’s always a fire lit but to be told that you’ll all be gathering together for a night around the fire is more special. A time to socialize and relax. To enjoy the company of those you already know and love, or to meet those in who you’ve never thought to talk to before.

Such a bonfire had been planned a week ahead of time in the camp. Today was finally the day. It was relaxing, the rising sun was bright outside and the energy was.. well, the same as usual around camp. It was first thing in the morning which meant cabin checks and breakfast. The demigods from each cabin would, as usual, start with their individual traditions. The way they started their day off. Whether it be exercise, cabin counselor work, or trying to sleep in a bit longer. They’d get right to it.

[/div][/div][/div][div class=credit]credits RI.a [/div][div class=overlay]Tradition. Part 1.[/div][div class=tags] Arrt Saunders RosateNena ModernRanger Lurker Abendrot [/div]

 

[WhispFlick]

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Aria was a praetor at Camp Jupiter. It's sort of self-explanatory, she was one of two heads of the camp. Among many other high positions. She completely understood why she was requested to go, not in any arrogant way, but.. she could definitely be reliable for whatever were to happen. Out of the two praetors, when it came to the Greek demigods, Aria tended to have a more open position. There were definitely some negative vibes roaming around the Roman camp on the Greeks despite the alliance that they hard formulated. Aria had her own opinions towards them, a bit the same as her fellow Romans, but she set out with her personal thoughts pushed aside. She had to be open, accepting, and fair. That's what a true leader was.

The biggest questioning standing is generally why she's going and who she's with. To answer the latter: She brought her friend, trusted associate, centurion of the Second Cohort, and senator of Camp Jupiter; Oleander. When she was told to bring one other person, he was the first to come to mind. In all honesty she would trust him with her life. Though he had his ups and downs she knew that he had everyone's best interest at heart. And that she would forever have his loyalty.

To answer the first question, well, that's where things got complicated. At Camp Jupiter things began acting strangely. They don't have individual cabins based on parents like Camp Half-Blood do but somehow all children of Venus had been.. misplacing things. Coming into accidents. Injuring themselves. The children of Bacchus has begun to have issues when they drank. Not that they should be drinking as much as they do but that's a separate issue. Chaos had begun within those specific demigods lives. But nobody could find out why. It was as if karma had struck them for the past several days.

And so Aria was sent to check in with Jethro; a son of Jupiter, trusted liasion for the camps. Aria's instructions included finding the camp, finding Jethro, and addressing the matters at their camp with him. To find out whether or not similar things have been happening at Camp Half-Blood. Nobody knew what was happening but they couldn't let it last.

Now, the lack of a smile on her face wasn't that she wasn't happy to be out and about on something that could be potentially interesting but the trip was extremely boring. She enjoyed Oleander's company, nonetheless. She was sure they'd arrive at the entrance to Camp Half-Blood soon enough.

The Roman daughter of Apollo stood as tall as possible, barely over five feet if you'd like to be specific, with a straight back. She had that typical glint in her eyes, a reflection of the sunlight. The one thing missing from Aria's face was her smile. She was most definitely upset from their journey so far. It wasn't really fun by any means. Strapped to her thigh was a journal, a bit worn out, but a journal nonetheless with a pencil tucked between the pages. Reminder: Do Not Touch The Journal. Higher up, strapped to her waist, was a dagger of imperial gold. To her other side was a twin double edged sword. Same material: imperial gold. Typical Roman gear. Unlike many others, she usually had a bow, despite it being a discouraged weapon in the Camp Jupiter community. Today she held it in her hand, a tight grip on the bow's handle. If any one were to bother her, she was prepared to smack them upside the head with it.

Not that it should be necessary.

Aside from her weaponry and equipment, Aria was dressed as any praetor would be, despite the traveling. She was sure she'd need to have her rank known the moment she stepped onto the soil of Camp Half-Blood. As per usual she wore a purple cape around her shoulders, along with imperial gold shoulder plates. Well, she had some other gear but that's self-explanatory. One thing, however, was the Camp Jupiter shirt she was allowed the tattoo on her forearm to be present.

Squinting up at the sun for a moment before glancing around at all of the hills, Aria turned her gaze to settle on her companion. "Do you have the map, Oleander?" She asked suddenly, referring to the parchment map that she'd passed to him earlier. She was alright with directions but honestly she could do better. Which was why the small praetor had entrusted it in Oleander's hands instead. Especially considering her hands were literally full of gear.

[/div][/div][/div][div class=credit]credits RI.a [/div][div class=overlay]Aria Alvarez[/div][div class=tags]Location Near Camp Half-Blood Entrance
Arrt Saunders [/div]

 

[Abendrot]

TREVOR

Location: Demeter Cabin | Interacting with: N/A | Mentions: N/A

Trevor crouched beside the back window of the Demeter cabin, two spare lockpicks between his teeth, fingers deftly working the shiny new lock on the latch. They should've been smart enough to know that shiny locks were not always good ones, but then again, anyone caught breaking into the Demeter cabin in search of a prize usually ended up with a nasty poison-ivy rash for their trouble -- if they were lucky. Trevor was courting trouble with the counselors by doing this, but coming in through the front door was so boring. Besides, he had new picks to try out.

And they worked like a charm too. It only took a little jiggling to push all the tumblers into place, and the lock slid open smooth as butter. Trevor tsked as he chucked it into the grass behind him, and then used a small file to push into the gap of the window and sill to push the inside catch up. The window swung open and Trevor slipped in silently, making sure to shut it behind him, of course. He wasn't going to let in a draft.

No one was immediately visible in the small den he'd dropped into, but he was confident that there was no one awake who could detect his presence. There was oh so much potential for entertainment to be had here. It was too bad he'd left Ricardo Lopez's underwear in the Aphrodite cabin; they would've been interesting to plant here, but he'd just have to improvise for the moment. His disappointment, however, was offset by the presence of a bowl of strawberries that had been left out on the table, presumably just picked from the fields. Trevor grabbed a generous handful, then settled down on the floor to eat.

code by Ri.a

 

[ModernRanger]

Captain Jethro Gerhardt


Location: The Zeus Cabin to The Sword Arena Mentions: N/A
The alarm went off at the usual time of 6AM. Luckily for Jethro, there was no one else in the cabin otherwise he may have upset some cabin mates. He was quick to get up, turning off the alarm and moving about the cabin like he had every morning for the past months he had spent in Camp Half-Blood. Dressing himself in a sleeveless shirt and jogging shorts, Jethro sat on his bed and laced up his tennis shoes. Before leaving however, he made sure to make his bed. The saying went that old habits died hard and Jethro found the habits he had formed in the Military Academy were nearly impossible to kill. Luckily, he had been able to keep the same habits in Camp Jupiter and even in Camp Half-Blood.
Opening the cabin door, Jethro walked out into the brisk early morning air, closing the door behind him as softly as he could. The morning was still gray, the sun not yet peeking up over the distant horizon. Jethro took in a deep breath of crisp morning air before slowly exhaling it. As he did before every run, he made sure to stretch, loosening the sleep and inactivity from his muscles before he would begin his morning jog.
Jethro usually ran the same route everyday and today would be no different. His route would take him up past the mess hall, around the North Woods and across the beach, then down past what the other campers called "Zeus's fist" and back towards the Sword Arena. After his run, he would spend his time in the sword arena, training and working out until it was almost time for breakfast. At that point, he would take a much needed shower.
His routine set before him Jethro began his morning run. The cool air blowing past his face and through his hair as he headed towards the beach. He found peace in the steady pounding of his feet against the ground and the morning air hugging his skin.
To him it was just another day because at the time, he had no way of knowing that this day would be the beginning of far more sinister events to come.

 

[RosateNena]

Daughter of
Demeter

Nadiya gently ran a brush through her hair, debating whether or not she wanted to wear a braid. It was still damp from a quick shower she took- practicing her skills and harvesting strawberries had caused her to work up a slight sweat. Despite already being awake for a couple of hours, her day was just getting started.

Before she could waste anymore daylight, the daughter of Demeter put her brush away and began to make her way outside. A set schedule was in her mind, and there was no room for intervention. That is, until she caught Trevor eating her freshly picked strawberries. A mixture between annoyance and sadness replaced the strict schedule lingering in her brain- she was looking forward to eating those!

Quick to think of a solution, Nadiya allowed vines to break through the floor and trap Trevor. "Just what do you think you're doing?" She made sure the vines wrapped tightly around his arms and torso, as well as around his ankles; he had no room for mobility, hopefully. "What made you think you had the right to touch my strawberries?"

Huffing loudly, Nadezhda placed herself in front of the son of Hermes. She peered down at him, arms crossed. Of course, she should have expected something like this from him; however, that didn't mean it was right, nor that she wasn't ready to maybe give him a little scare. Hopefully he wouldn't notice that she was bluffing. Those who are friends with Nadiya know that she could never intentionally hurt someone if it isn't necessary, but instead uses words to get her point across.

Mood: Annoyed


Location: Demeter's Cabin


Interactions: Trevor


Tags: Abendrot

Nadiya

code by pasta​

 

[Lurker]

(I'm sorry I'll have formatting next time I just wanted to get a post in.)

The branches crunched loudly underfoot as the man ran through the woods. He was out of breath and kept looking over his shoulder like something was chasing him. A cliff. He jumped from it without hesitation and began falling, falling. It seemed like he fell forever into the darkness and then...Nothing. The scene changed and Seymour found himself floating above the camp. He flew around, observing all the people that were walking around.

The son of Hypnos was dreaming of course. Unlike most that wish they could lucid dream, Seymour wished to dream normally. Lucid dreaming was only fun for so long. After a while you like the weird random things that your brain comes up with. The chatter from the camp below was growing louder and louder. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it it seemd to become louder. Just when he thought the roar of the camp couldn't get any louder, there was a loud bang.

The earth in the camp split open right down the middle. An earthquake? Campers began screaming and running from the large chasm that was growing in the center of camp. It seemed to go down impossibly far. The ground began shaking even more violently and a red substance began oozing up from the chasm. Seymour could only stare in disbelief at what he was seeing. A large monolith began rising from the ground and even blocked out the sun. Seymour had no idea what vision he was witnessing. He slowly floated around to the other side of the giant rectangular object sticking up from the ground. When he realized what it was he could only scream. It was a giant mozzarella stick and marinara was flowing like lava.

The sleepy head woke up with his stomach grumbling like most mornings. He groaned and sat up, letting out a loud yawn. He slung his feet over the bed and took a shaky step up. He somehow managed to clothe himself, the promise of food too much to pass up on. He made his way out of the cabin but looked more like a zombie than a human being. He was hunched over, his arms dangling lifelessly as his feet shuffled. He wasn't even paying attention to where he was going and bumped into a few people on the way.

Seymour heard a ruckus going on in the demeter cabin but right now the mission was food. The shambling yawner continued trough the camp with people giving him a wide berth. It was common knowledge that Seymour was at his worst in the early morning hours. It was like his brain didn't even turn on until he'd gotten his breakfast. The laughter and general noise of the camp was maddening and he just wanted to go back to sleep.

The son of Hypnos found himself standing in front of the infirmary. The zombie's mission was unsuccesful it seemed but he wasn't bothered by that. He let out another large yawn and shuffled his feet towards the infirmary. As soon as he was inside he felt the calming presence of Amy fill his mind. The roar of the camp outside seemed to fade away and a sleepy smile found it's way to the narcoleptic's lips. The people that had spent the night in the infirmary looked at him like he was lost but no one said anything.

"Mornin' Doc." Seymour said quietly. He moved to take a step towards his friend but his brain decided it hadn't had enough rest. While midstep the son of Hypnos fell forward and slammed face first into the floor. While it looked like a painful fall you wouldn't be able to tell by looking at Seymour. He was out like a light and snoring loudly, curled up into a little ball.

interacting with : Arrt Saunders

 

[Arrt Saunders]

• Son of Ceres - Oleander
• Daughter of Asclepius - Amelia

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  Interacting with: WhispFlick ​

  
  
  

  
  

  
  A bleak, thin wind, sharp as nettle-scour, ruffled the blades of grass and searched Oleander's marrow for elusive warmth. His breath hung in the morning air like a crystalline cloud, his nose was tinged with red and his skin was blanched. It was a poor morning. It was the type of morning the Augur would consider a bad omen for a quest. Oleander, on the other hand, found it refreshing to be out in the open. The grass beneath his feet grew in wild tufts and wayward tussocks, feral patches of undergrowth that grew the way nature intended it to grow.
  
  Oleander was half-tempted to discipline it with his treasured scythe like the meadows of home.
  
  Sunlight, which coloured the grass a rich yellow, and petrichor did nothing to temper the wickedness of the morning: Oleander's cloak, threads of burnt crimson and centurion gold that cascaded to the ground from his shoulders like a fiery river, protected him against the biting chill of the wind. In truth, however, the cold hardly bothered Oleander nor his journey to Camp Halfblood. His cloak was a welcome comfort but he wasn't the type to consider it a necessity. He had survived drills under worse circumstances with fewer luxuries. So, he kept his head high, followed his directional instinct and marched.
  
  Oleander, who was a few steps ahead, turned towards his friend and commander when she called to him, and inclined his head slowly at her question. Aria - Praetor of Camp Jupiter and one of Oleander's closest confidants - had entrusted him with the parchment early on. She was an exceptional leader but Oleander knew from experience with the Second Cohort that cartography was not the daughter of Apollo's forte.
  
  His fingers, white-knuckled around the grip of his gladius, uncurled and he reached for the dirt-stained parchment that he'd tucked beside his dagger. Pulling the map from its resting place, he opened it with an undulating thawk
  
  "We should be nearly there," Oleander said, presenting the inked parchment to Aria. He traced a swooping line with his finger along the crinkly surface, rough and coarse like baked soil, to indicate their current position and the path on which they travelled. "At our current pace we should reach Camp Halfblood within a few hours. And if the blessing of Fortuna is with us, Captain Gerhardt will have some answer to our questions."
  

  
  
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  Interacting with: Lurker ​

  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  "Thyme and thistle ground and mixed, floated in water, boiled until clear, and applied to wound, is an exceptional remedy for the prevention of fluid-filled or purulent blisters. The tincture, once prepared, will keep for a month without spoilage or loss of potency. A good physician should ensure their stock is maintained and replaced accordingly, or risk the vengeful wrath of a pus-drenched hero."​

  
  With a smile, Amelia closed the tome - 'A Demigod's Companion to Healing and Nurture' - and placed it carefully on the wooden bench-top beside the boiling vial of herbs. The book was one of her favourites to read and to use, filled with extraordinary recipes, wondrous tips and tricks and humorous quips that made learning a little more interesting. The pages were yellowed with age, smelled distinctly of vanilla bean and held numerous secrets that were invaluable to her arts.
  
  She took a long rod from the second drawer and stirred the bubbling tincture. Some of the mixtures from the tome were rotten, vile concoctions that Amelia made only when absolutely essential, or when tested by Chiron. The healing salve for satyr pox, for example, was a particularly nasty piece of work. The ingredients alone reminded her of spoiled eggs and putrid chicken. Luckily, she only ever had to make that once for a rather promiscuous dryad - and Amelia swore she'd never make it again.
  
  Thyme and thistle, in contrast, was a delight.
  
  After an early breakfast, Amelia had skipped straight to the infirmary. She had swapped shifts with one of her siblings, Michael Smith, who hated working early hours. He much preferred the quieter evenings, where most of the patients were asleep or, in his words, 'too tired or drugged up to make a racket.'
  
  Amelia had a predisposition for the morning shift, so the swap was mutually beneficial. It was one of the busiest shifts, hectic with wounded heroes after training, but Amelia flourished in that environment, rushing to and fro from camper to camper with an air of confidence that slowly faded in the afternoon.
  
  Morning shifts meant that the children of Apollo weren't huddled around her, watching her every move. She had greater freedom in the mornings, time to prepare her medicines and spend time with patients. She could make sure she was doing right by them, make sure she was calming them, without fear of being judged.
  
  Most importantly, she could save a bed for one of her best friends - Seymour, son of Hypnos. Affectionately, Amelia called him Sleepyhead, and the infirmary was the perfect place for him to sleep in peace without the counsellors nagging his sleepy brain.
  
  The tincture gave one last bubble and squeak, changing from a dull green to a colourless solution, as Seymour arrived in his familiar fashion: a joy-filled greeting; a thunderous face-plant; and a few cute snores.
  
  Amelia carefully removed the vial from above the Bunsen burner and placed it on the bench to cool.
  
  "Lawrence,” she called out to one of the overnights, "Help me get Seymour into bed, will you please!"
  

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[WhispFlick]

Elena and Marco Russo - Athena Twins

The Athena cabin, as per every morning, was a rush of intelligent children trying to tidy up or go about their own day. A morning with the Russo twins was similar but with more arguing and faster paced walking.

Elena Russo woke first, grabbing a book, getting ready, and then waking her brother so that he could do the same. Some days they would spend time apart but others they’d opt to go training together. At least, Marco would listen to his sister tell him about tactics she’d read about the previous night while he’d devise strategies and they’d test them out together. Well, against each other, or on any victim that they could find. Much to Elena’s protest that is. She preferred to keep it between themselves. Lab rats were good for scientists and perhaps some others but socializing wasn’t anything she felt necessary. Especially when it came to fighting. If it could be avoided, why would you voluntarily attempt at it?

This morning, their walk to the training arena was filled with Elena’s nagging at her brother to not repeat what had happened the last time they went to train. “Marco, could you just shut your mouth and listen for once?” The young girl complained, smacking her brother’s shoulder with a book on defense statuses whilst he went on about food.

“All I’m saying, Elena, is that a waffle is nothing more but a crunchier pancake with squares imprinted on both sides. It’s meant to hold the syrup-“ Marco paused as soon as he was whacked, glancing down to his sister and smirking a bit. “Alright, fine. You talk now. But this conversation isn’t over.”

Elena rolled her eyes and gripped the book in her small hands before continuing, “Now, as I was saying, you can’t go up to a new camper and force them into dueling you. It’s unfair. It wouldn’t go to prove that your techniques are right. The only way you could prove something is if you pick a fair if not better than yourself opponent. Someone to reflect an enemy you’d fight in the future which doesn’t include..” Elena took a break to gesture at an eleven year old camper walking by. “Little kids.”

Around that point they’d actually arrived at the sword arena itself. Meaning they would now be looking for a test subject for Marco’s most recent plans.

Humming, the larger twin brushed past his sister to look around at the few campers training so early in the morning. “Alright, four eyes, who do you want to pick?” He asked curiously, glancing towards his twin sister over his shoulder as he continued around to pick up a sword.

Elena shrugged, flipping to a marked page in her book. “It doesn’t matter. But you said your plan includes reversal of energy, so you should find someone bigger than you. Someone who will exert a lot of energy for you to use against them.”

location: Camp Half-Blood Sword Training Arena | mentions: | interactions:

"Brain and Brawn"

codedbymeraki.

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Res-ur-rec-tion; The action or fact of being brought back or rising from the dead.

Different religions believe in different things. Someone religions believe in resurrection. Such as Christianity, how Christ rose back from the dead. But there’s no need to go into detail about that. It’s not the point of this seemingly never-ending tale.

At Camp Jupiter, home of Roman demigods, chaos has ensued involving strictly the children of Venus and Bacchus. Missing make up, alcohol, mirrors, tools. A wide array of things have occurred which resulted in complaints and even more so, a praetor leaving in the Camp’s attempt of resolving the issues for good.

Nobody knew the source.

Now was the time in which more chaos appeared to ensue. It was momentary but the ground shook. Not only at Camp Jupiter, however, but also at Camp Half-Blood. It may have passed as a storm outside of camp as the clouds took over the sky and everything seemed to darken. But the ground shook as if there was a loud roar. This occurred for only a few seconds, being over nearly as soon as it had started. Perhaps some didn’t even feel it. But it definitely happened.

Meanwhile, in a resting place for.. well, there weren’t many bodies resting in this area though there was one in particular. Isaiah Ulises Sharpe. Son of Venus, Legacy of Bacchus - camper during the year 1964. A long time ago, definitely. Legionnaire for a mere three years. He’d held a grudge against his mother, Venus, that entire time. He felt the Gods treated their children as nothing but pawns. As beautiful pieces to use to their advantage until they died. And he refused to allow himself or anyone else for that matter to be controlled either. Demigods died in service to their parents. It was absurd.

After an attack on camp with other demigods on his side, a group of individuals in who he had charmed to stand on his side. Though the day he lost his life. He had failed. But the Gods had failed him first. His death was filled but nothing but hate. Hate for his fellow campmates who’d stood against him and for the Gods that made them believe he was in the wrong. Now, after decades, he was here.

Isaiah wasn’t sure what that meant but he found himself scrambling for air in the dark, clawing until light shone against his face. Against others will, his father had chosen to bury him in a mausoleum. His own individual building. Against everyone else’s wishes. Surely his son did wrong but he’d hoped he would rest well despite his short time. He wished him nothing but the best.

Isaiah, unsure of where he was, weakly sat up in his tomb and glanced around

Though his thoughts were unclear it was a known fact that he wouldn’t give up on destroying those who went against him. They would all pay the price.
[/div][/div][/div][div class=credit1]credits RI.a [/div][div class=overlay1]Resurrection. Part 2.[/div][div class=tags] Arrt Saunders RosateNena ModernRanger Lurker Abendrot [/div]


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Considering Oleander’s quick response, Aria felt nearly jealous of how easily he understood something she struggled quite a bit with herself. Now, this wasn’t to say that she was bad with directions, she could be quite good with knowing her location and where to go.. it was just that everything on the parchment paper made her mind go haywire.

She couldn’t focus on it enough to understand it or her position on it. But it seemed that she’d brought along the right companion to help her know where she was and approximately how long it’d take her, well, them, to get to their destination. Letting out a sigh of relief, she was more than glad to be told about how much longer they had. She didn’t want to admit it but the journey had taken a bit of a toll on her feet. They ached quite a bit.

Nonetheless, the brunette nodded her head in agreement to Oleander’s comment. “I’d wish for a blessing for every event, and not to disagree with you, but I feel the odds of him having any answers for us to be very small.” Aria admitted. It was hard to speak up about her doubts but it seemed necessary. “With everything going on at camp, it’s just so.. unexplainable. Like pranks of the Gods themselves. No blessing could truly point us in the right direction, do you think?” She asked curiously, turning her head so that she could look up at Oleander.

She trusted anything he said, if she needed help making a final decision, she’d likely do it from his very own words. In the moment, however, the small girl had fear bubbling within her, a result of the unknown happening in her own home. In their own home. She’d agree with anyone who said their surroundings screamed nothing good.

Their journey wasn’t torture but it wasn’t comfortable. They’d walked for what felt like weeks, Aria’s feet were weak and her body was just tired. Of course the pair had rested their fair amount of time but the cool air didn’t make her feel much better. Though the daughter of Apollo was warmer than some, as if constantly attracting as much heat from the Sun as one possibly could, but the environment did get to her quite a bit. “Though if the blessing of Fortuna is with us, we’ll be lucky enough to quickly locate Captain Gerhardt. I don’t want to spend more time at this camp than necessary while things at Camp Jupiter only get worse.”

It was only moments later when the ground shook beneath her. Not hard enough to throw anyone around but just enough to put her in a moment of shock. Quickly, she stopped and looked around. “Did you feel that as well?”
[/div][/div][/div][div class=credit]credits RI.a [/div][div class=overlay]Aria Alvarez[/div][div class=tags]Location Near Camp Half-Blood Entrance
Arrt Saunders [/div]

 

[Abendrot]

TREVOR

Location: Demeter Cabin | Interacting with: Nadiya | Mentions: RosateNena

Well, fuck.

One of the disadvantages of messy ass eating was that it tended to muffle approaching footsteps. Not that there should be any footsteps at this ungodly hour, but here was the fucking door swinging open, him getting covered in vines, and this was what you got when you fucked around too much.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck.

Trevor remained still in his eco-friendly bondage, hoping for a last minute change of mind on the part of his captor as he turned over options in his head. Run or bluff was about it … and he wasn't seeing much practicality in running.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

That stern voice sounded young and female, and when Trevor looked up, he added 'pretty' to the list and 'very' to the 'stern'. Brown-haired and steely-eyed, Nadiya towered over him, arms crossed,glaring daggers of utter conviction.

Think fast.

Maybe if he jumped and yelled 'Boo!', she would faint on the spot, leaving Trevor free to make his escape, but was there really a way to salvage this caper?

Maybe.

"What made you think you had the right to touch my strawberries?"

"What ever could you possibly mean by that?" said Trevor in feigned innocence. "I am a respected member of this community and I am appalled that you would accuse me of all people of stealing your strawberries. How am I supposed to get my work done properly with these kinds of interruptions?"

What exactly this 'work' would be ... well, he was working on that part.

code by Ri.a

 

[Arrt Saunders]

Interacting with: WhispFlick ​

"He might have some answers and he might not, but we are in dire need of answers nonetheless," Oleander replied quietly, taking one final glance at the seven remaining landmarks inked on the map. Rolling up the parchment, he returned the map to his belt, his grip to his gladius and his eyes to the small Praetor by his side.

Perhaps they were his own feelings on the occurrences at Camp Jupiter, whispering to him from their burial grounds deep beneath his sangfroid of discipline, or perhaps he knew Aria better than he anticipated, but looking down at her Oleander thought he saw the colour of fear spread briefly across her face. He couldn't blame that momentary shudder. He couldn't blame any of the Romans for questioning the safety of their home. Even he, as steadfast and reliable as the rocks of the earth, had begun to pray to his mother for some guidance in recent hours of need.

It started when his legionnaires begun behaving strangely. It was little mistakes and quirks at first - lost mirrors, forgotten armour, drunken escapades and over-flirtatious advances. Oleander easily forgave those mishaps, a small scolding and a pat on the back normally sorted things out. But soon he realised that the frequency and severity of the growing number of 'accidents' was unnerving. Over a number of weeks Oleander watched cracks form in the discipline of the children of Venus and Bacchus under his authority. There was simply no denying that something was wrong.

Although he'd never say it, because it went against the teachings of Rome, he was incredibly glad to be chosen by Aria for her quest to Camp Halfblood. He wanted to solve the mysteries as much as she did and he would've silently begrudged anyone else leaving with her.

"Maybe we do need more than a blessing, Aria," he said, attempting to offer her a comforting smile to ease her doubts. Although, part of his weak affirmations were self-directed. To watch your friends decline into some kind of madness was heart-achingly upsetting, and both of them were feeling the sickening pain of responsibility.

"But isn't that why we've travelled all this way? Isn't that why we've come to the Greeks? If all goes according to plan either Jethro will have our answers, the Greeks will, or together we... "

His voice trailed off. His grip tightened. And Imperial gold was drawn as the ground beneath his feet suddenly began to shake.

The soft vibrations ran through Oleander's muscles, his feet positioning themselves to root him to the ground. He instinctively scanned their immediate surroundings for movement, any sign of a monster or a creation that could rattle the solidity beneath him. An earthquake was very unlikely; a monster more probable. Even then, his mother's domain certainly did not rattle easily.

Was there ever a simple quest?
Oleander nodded solemnly to Aria, his eyes fixating on the nearest landmark. Six left before the seventh marked the entrance to Camp Halfblood. A sprint would close the gap between them and the sixth mark, a jog to the fifth and they would be surrounded by the forest - and hopefully the gap between them and whatever else was potentially tracking the two heroes would be lengthened.

"We better get moving. Fast. Only Jupiter knows how well the Greeks patrol their bloody borders."

 

[RosateNena]

Daughter of
Demeter

Nadiya watched as Trevor was desperately trying to create some vivid lie. Hopefully, what he comes up with will be amusing.

"What ever could you possibly mean by that?" Demeter's daughter watched as he tried his best to appear innocent. "I am a respected member of this community and I am appalled that you would accuse me of all people of stealing your strawberries. How am I supposed to get my work done properly with these kinds of interruptions?"

Well, then, that most definitely was amusing.

Scoffing, Nadiya slightly tightened the vines. It wasn't enough to be painful, but enough to be even more uncomfortable than it already was. "And just what kind of work do you do? Does it involve using your grubby little paws to touch my strawberries?"

A slight tremble had suddenly occurred, momentarily distracting Nadezhda. The vines she had wrapped around Trevor loosed; however, she quickly gained focus and tightened them back to their former state. She hoped he wouldn't notice her slip-up. That would definitely mess with her ethos. Even so, the distraction lingered in the back of her mind. It worried her. What if something had happened? What if something will happen? She quickly dismissed the thoughts, deeming them as exaggerations.

"Give me a good reason as to why I should let you go," Nadiya said smugly, "Amuse me some more, will you?"

Mood: Annoyed


Location: Demeter's Cabin


Interactions: Trevor


Tags: Abendrot

Nadiya

code by pasta​

 

[Lurker]

Location: The Infirmary
Feeling: Sleepy
Interacting With: The Doc Arrt Saunders
Mentions: n/a

The darkness was almost suffocating in the small passageway. Seymour couldn't see his own hand in front of his face. He could only walk forward. The passage was so quiet that all he could hear was his beating heart and his breathing. A single light finally cut through the darkness. In front of him was a circular room. The light shone directly above a coffin. Seymour paused and for the first time since he was a child felt fear in his own dreams. The coffin moved slightly. Then the ground began to shake violently.

The son of Hypnos' eyes shot open and he lurched, falling out of the bed that he had been placed in. "Earthquake!" He shouted, no doubt panicking the others in the room. The shaking had already subsided by the time he was awake but he knew that hadn't just been his stomach growling. Seymour sighed and stretched, his back popping loudly. The others in the room that weren't used to Seymour's antics eyed him suspiciously. For all intents and purposes it did not seem like this kid had just passed out in the middle of the floor. Seymour let out a loud yawn and took some shambling steps towards the doctor that was in the room.

"Morning again Doc. Thanks for letting me use the bed again." It was fairly common for Seymour to get lost when he was on the prowl for food. The calming presence of Amy helped him get back to bed even when his brain was screaming at him to go find food. Every time the sleepyhead came into the infirmary he made a point of staring helplessly at all the vials and beakers that Amy had. Seymour's education on all things camp was...Significantly behind the average camper. It was hard to learn much of anything when you spent almost your entire time asleep. He balled his hands into fists and pressed them into his eyes as he tried to push the sleep away. The effort wasn't completely meaningless as it helped clear his mind just enough to remember his mission.

"Hey Doc. You already grabbed breakfast? I need someone to eat with. You know what happened last time." Seymour's eyes were glazed over with sleepiness but he vividly remembered the last time he had eaten alone. The narcoleptic had decided to get some mashed potatoes and fallen asleep while eating them. He landed face first into them and couldn't breathe. He had woken up in the infirmary after Amy found him unconscious, at least more unconscious than usual, at the table. Now not only did he avoid mashed potatoes, Seymour also tried to have a buddy with him whenever he ate. It was safer that way. If the teenager was embarrassed by the fact he couldn't even be trusted to eat alone it didn't show on his features.

"I mean unless you're busy doing your voodoo witch magic." Seymour somehow mustered the strength to lift his arms and wiggle his fingers for emphasis. He tried to learn from her sometimes but half the words Amy liked to use just went right over Seymour's most of the time. The son of Hypnos liked to tease his best friend but he relied on her heavily. When you fall asleep while standing up you tend to fall over after and bruise or break things. That was how their friendship had started. He was just a frequent flyer to the infirmary.

Code by apolla

 

[ModernRanger]

Captain Jethro Gerhardt


Location: The Sword Arena Mentions: No One Feeling: Suspicious
Jethro had already been in the Sword Arena for some time before the quake. At the time, he was working on a stunning technique for a combative situation when it hit. The goal was to hit the side of the enemy's head, in this case the enemy was being played by a motionless combat dummy. As Jethro swung his blade towards the dummy's head, the quake caused him to momentarily lose focus and in doing so, he forgot to twist his blade at the last second. Instead of slamming the flat side of the sword against the dummy's head, he sliced through it with the edge. The decapitated head hitting the ground with a thud.
"Damn" Jethro muttered at his mistake and could not stop himself from saying a quick,
"Sorry" in the dummy's direction. If the dummy had heard or accepted his apology, it gave no indication.
Jethro cast his glance about the arena. He saw nothing that gave any indication as to what had caused the quake. If it could even be called that. He had felt it no doubt but it had not caused him to do anything other than lose focus. However, his mind still whirled with possibilities.
Regardless of how slight, the quake was still suspicious and he found himself wondering what could have caused it.

 

[Arrt Saunders]

Location: The Infirmary || Feeling: Motherly || Interacting with: Lurker ​

​

Amelia was cleaning away torn bandages when the tremors began. At first she thought someone had fallen against the cladding of the healer’s tent but the shaking lasted much too long to be caused by a fallen hero. As the shudders intensified, she grabbed the edge of the bench-top to steady herself. A slight ringing caught her attention and she glanced up in horror.

The rickety shelves in front of Amelia had begun to rumble. Vials and bottles chimed a crystalline chorus as they rocked, teetering backwards and forwards towards the threshold. Amelia’s panicked breath froze in her lungs, her bright eyes wide with fright, as the animated glassware threatened to dance off the shelves and onto her head.

The tremors ceased just before her thistle and thyme mixture fell. The bottle sat daringly on the edge of the shelf. Had the shaking continued any longer every piece of glass in the infirmary would have come crashing down like a rain of daggers.

She could see the headlines in the Camp Times already: ‘Doctor Skewered by Villainous Vials.’

Slowly releasing the bench-top and the breath she’d unknowingly held, she begun to push the bottles backwards. She started with thistle and thistle - she’d laboured all morning on that goddamn solution, and she certainly wasn’t going to see it spilled across the floor before it got put to good use. Besides, the further back the bottles were the less likely they were to hit her if whatever just happened decided to happen again.

Not that it should.

She whispered a small prayer to her father that he’d spare her from any form of disaster in his sanctum. Her siblings could deal with falling hazards and broken glass in the afternoon, couldn’t they? It wasn't like that couldn't knock up tinctures if the need arose? She had been peacefully dealing with the wounded all morning; her siblings were getting away with absolute murder, and she thought a little tremor-induced madness would liven up their lives.

It was then she heard a familiar voice call to her once again; this time without any thunderous collapse. The tiredness she could hear made her smile and her worries slowly drifted away. Spinning happily on her heels, she turned to face Seymour with a wide grin.

Her friend, who she had hoisted onto a nearby bed with the help of a Hephaestian boy who had a toothache, was still trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes with balled-up fists, his mop of hair a pillow-ridden catastrophe and his shirt a mess of wrinkles.

“Good morning, Sleepyhead,” she cooed, taking a soft tissue from the bench to wipe Seymour’s eyes. “Did you sleep well? You looked exhausted when you came in.”

The fact that Seymour always looked a little exhausted wasn’t lost on Amelia. He’d just looked a little worse than usual when he first arrived.

Perhaps it was his hunger. His stomach simply hadn't stopped growling at her.

“Oh, absolutely! All done with my hocus pocus for the day, so, I’d be delighted to join you for breakfast. I’m sure the Apollo kids will be coming here to take over. Well, they should be,” Amelia replied, offering the son of Hypnos her arm to link. She’d already eaten a large breakfast but she knew she couldn’t say no to Seymour. She didn’t have the heart for it. After the mashed potato incident, she wouldn’t let Seymour out of her sight at the dining pavilion unless Nadiya, or someone else she trusted, was with him.

She didn’t want to entirely mother him at all times - he was perfectly capable of feeding himself - she just wanted to make sure he was safe. The mashed potato incident wasn’t the only time Seymour had woken with Amelia’s concerned eyes searching his for signs of good health. For a boy who spent most of his life sleeping, he got into some of the hairiest predicaments.

Her presence at the dining pavilion also meant that other campers kept any smartass comments about narcoleptics firmly to themselves. Amelia acted like a buffer to their snarky remarks, a calming force at the Hypnos table which she'd claimed as her own. The children of Ares were particularly bad for picking on people, always taking a sadistic pleasure in ruffling other campers' feathers. Pissing off one of Camp Halfblood’s healers however, while trying to take a pot-shot at Seymour, was a big mistake that could land even the most respected hero in hot water. And the Ares Cabin knew that from experience.

“I think a nice cup of tea is just what the doctor ordered, don’t you? Might wake you up enough for a bit of training.”

 

[Lurker]

Location: Dining Pavilion
Feeling: Starved
Interacting With: The Doc Arrt Saunders
Mentions: n/a

Seymour visibly perked up a bit when Amy agreed to go to breakfast with him. He linked arms with his friend without a second thought. "Didn't sleep too great. Nightmares." If Seymour was a little more awake he would have realized how odd his statement truly was. He never had nightmares. Whenever something genuinely scared him in a dream he would just change it. That dream had been different though. He shuddered a small bit as he remembered the dream and his sleepy smile faded for just a moment before returning when he thought of food. "But who cares about that when there's food just waiting to be eaten?"

Seymour couldn't help but scrunch up his nose at the last thing Amy said. "Training? What are you trying to pull here Doc? You know I've fallen asleep during sword practice right? I think you just want me to get injured so you get to see me some more." He chuckled and stuck his tongue out at the girl as the the two began walking toward the dining pavilion with their arms connected. It was not an uncommon sight. Seymour was used to the gazes by now though. Used to the kids trying to mess with him. He didn't really mind. Nothing ever got too far out of hand but it was not uncommon for Seymour to fall asleep in public by himself and wake up with stuff drawn on his face. The joke was on them though, he found it just as funny as they did. Even so he was thankful to have a presence with him in case he did fall asleep to deter such behavior.

The dining pavilion was full of life as always. Seymour's stomach seemed to sense it was near sustenance and the growling got even louder. The son of Hypnos shambled his way over to the food and began to pile a plate with food. You would think he would gain weight since he eats so much and never exercises or anything but the teen never did. It was like his body compensated for his lack of exercise by burning way more calories when he was asleep. Not a bad compromise but it explained why he was always starving when he woke up. Seymour grabbed whatever looked good and walked over to the fire. He wasn't big on the whole tradition of offering his dad food but other people harassed him when he didn't.

When all was said and done Seymour found an empty table and plopped himself down on it. He began devouring the food like a machine. Others looking at him might not even believe that he was chewing the food it was vanishing so quickly. The food helped Seymour to wake up and his head felt significantly less foggy. "Much better." The sleepyhead said in between bites. He paused for a moment and looked to Amy. They'd been such good friends since he'd first met her and he never really thanked her. Seymour was really a go with the flow kind of person. If you wanted to be friends, cool. If you wanted to hate him, whatever man it's your choice. An idea suddenly dawned on him and a grin erupted on his face.

"I have a surprise for you after breakfast. A gift for always being there for me." His stomach growling again broke up the moment and Seymour went back to devouring his food like someone who hadn't eaten in 3 days.

Code by apolla

 

[WhispFlick]

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Aria was likely the last person someone would imagine in a position of power. As a leader. She was small, she was kind; she seemed harmless and weak. Which she definitely was. When her front as a strong Roman leader fell, she was nothing but a girl always out to do her best for those around her. Aria would always try her hardest despite the fact that it meant setting her fears and worries aside for whatever time being.

It seemed leaders shouldn’t have a weak front. That they shouldn’t be weak to begin with. But it was only natural. If you weren’t the slightest bit fearful of even the littlest of things, Aria could only wonder how human you truly were. Everyone had fear. Their ability to show it always differentiated, though.

Despite Oleander’s at comforting her it seemed the shake of the ground beneath them made them less worthwhile than before. The brunettes body still remained in place, eyes flicking from surrounding to surrounding. If it were a monster, they’d be unprepared. Running was surely their best bet, a smart choice and suggestion on Oleander’s side but she couldn’t find the mere strength to move in that moment. She wanted to better understand the situation they now found themselves in. With everything going on at their own camp, Aria could only hope the two were unconnected and there was something occurring in the Gods domains that they could easily handle themselves. If only she could receive an apology or reassurance from their parents telling them the shake was a mere mishap.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever had a true fear for my life and others until now.” She said solemnly, her voice wavering just slightly out of fear for the situation they were now in. She’d be fine by the time they reached Camp Half-Blood, she was sure of that. But the momentary thoughts in her mind resisted to place the praetor at any sort of ease.

In the few moments after she’d spoken Aria attempted telling herself her fears were unsupported. That there was absolutely no way the ground would shake again and one of the two would fall to their doom. If they moved now, they’d be fine. They could make it in time and safely. All she had to do was move. Fast. Just as Oleander suggested quite a while ago.

Those thoughts led to her nodding her head, hand on the hilt of her sword as she gestured for him to run for it ahead of her. There was no way she’d be able to keep up the exact same pace as him. She moved fast despite being small but she was also weighed down with weaponry and armor, as well as still being a bit shaken from the previous events.

With a long sigh, Aria gave a glance over her shoulder, expecting to catch sight of something. Anything, really. Even if it were a monster. At least they’d know what exactly had caused the earthquake. “Time estimate now that we’re running?” She called out, curious as to how much better time they’d be making. She hoped they’d be there in a matter of minutes. Though at the same time she completely understood how unrealistic it would be. Even if it meant they’d be safe before anything could truly get to them. Whatever was after them was definitely large or at least very strong.

“I pray the Greeks don’t put up a fight against us.” She added quickly, moving to quickly catch up with him. It wasn’t easy but it was better than getting snatched up by something.

[/div][/div][/div][div class=credit]credits RI.a [/div][div class=overlay]Aria Alvarez[/div][div class=tags]Location Near Camp Half-Blood Entrance
Arrt Saunders [/div]

 

[Arrt Saunders]

• Son of Ceres - Oleander
• Daughter of Asclepius - Amelia

• 
  
  
  

  
  

  
  Location: Outside Camp Halfblood. || Feeling: Hiding his worry. || Interacting with: WhispFlick​

  
  
  

  
  

  
  Oleander ran through the undergrowth, his feet hitting the ground hard, and sending sensory shockwaves through his spine; his breaths deepened, his lungs forced oxygen-rich air into his blood and his heart began to hammer against the bones of his chest, drumming a sprinting rhythm.
  
  Enough air got in through his mouth and nose to allow his body to react as quickly as the snapping mechanism of a Venus flytrap, and his training allowed him to keep his feelings hidden from his Praetor in the heat of the moment, but the thought of being hunted by an unknown assailant in the bleak light, so close to the boundary of Camp Halfblood, was somewhat crippling.
  
  Fear was a strange spirit. It spoke in a cackling voice, ruthlessly and unmercifully whispering in the darkest of times. It told the legs to go weak, the stomach to lurch and the heart to ache. Discipline could distance Oleander from the voice, but fear could not be silenced.
  
  Fear always claimed its pound of flesh, awakening Oleander’s emotional unpredictability if provoked.
  
  Alone his temperament would be advantageous against whatever had caused the ground to lion-roar; alongside a comrade, his hibernal volatility was destructive and potentially threatening to his companion. He kept his grip on his raised gladius. However, his scythe, pinned to his cloak as his fibula, was never too far from his mind.
  
  “Now is not the time for fear, Aria. Now is the time for survival. Conquer or die - and today we conquer.”
  
  His voice, steady and calm like an ancient tree, echoed in the morning silence; nevertheless, the hypocrisy stung him. He needed Aria to keep her composure, to keep her mind sharp and her aim true. He needed her to be ready. If he could swallow his fright, he had to help her do the same.
  
  Whether his attempts at comfort and reassurance were working, he didn't know. She had frozen still initially, the flush of fear growing into an unabated countenance of distress. Oleander was worried he would have to disrespectfully drag his Praetor by the arm, to spur her into action. Luckily, Aria came to her senses and moved her feet. With no reconnaissance, every second was vital. They couldn't afford to lose time thinking.
  
  He settled into a jog after he reached the sixth mark, slowing his pace so that Aria, laden with the gold-dense weight of armour and weaponry, could run alongside him to the fifth.
  
  The shaking of the ground had long since stopped. That didn’t necessarily mean something wasn’t after them. Many monsters knew how to silently stalk their prey. Oleander couldn’t see anything, but that only heightened his suspicions.
  
  The grass flattened in patches beneath him and Aria, wilting and shrivelling, desiccated and dehydrated, as their boots lifted for the next stride. Their footfall left barren spaces of earth, crusty and baked, from which blood-red poppies, like the skin of a mouth, burst in opiate-spewing bloom. The rivulet of red flowers, growing quickly beneath his red cloak, blended into the undergrowth.
  
  Their tracks were hopefully disguised.
  
  “We should be beneath the forest canopy in a few minutes,” Oleander shouted. One glance over his should told him that wasn’t what Aria wanted to hear. “After that, if we keep this pace, we would reach Camp Halfblood in less than half the estimated time. Perhaps an hour. Realistically, this pace is unreasonable. Once we are under cover, we will be able to manoeuvre more easily.”
  

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  Location: The Dining Pavilion || Feeling: Uneasy || Interacting with: Lurker​

  
  

  
  

  
  On the way to the dining pavilion, arm in arm and laughing like reunited friends of old, there had been some humorous remarks between Amelia and Seymour about the impracticalities of physical training and her hopes of seeing her sleepyhead more frequently, and Amelia later recalled hearing Seymour say something about ‘nightmares’, which was unusual but something that she didn’t dwell on for too long.
  
  She didn’t have the time, as her friend half-dragged her around the pavilion in his never-ending quest for sustenance.
  
  Amelia sat gracefully at the table of Hypnos. She nursed a dainty cup, decorated with florid and flowery and flamboyant filigree, holding a brown herb-tea, laden with sickening spoonfuls of sugar. The cup had been nicked from her father's table. The children of Hypnos were not trusted by the Camp counsellors with cups and crockery that could easily break if swept aside by a narcoleptic attack. Although the attacks were understandably unavoidable. Seymour and his siblings were given metal cups that Amelia immediately rejected when she started sitting closer to the Hypnos crowd: harsh, hard and designed to survive a nuclear strike.
  
  Sitting with her legs crossed, she nibbled on her second tea-dunked, leaf-thin biscuit - a melange of honey dew, orange preserves and bites of dark chocolate embedded in a buttery disk. The first biscuit of her four biscuits had been burned as an offering to the gods, tangs of zest and pangs of acidity and overtones of cocoa filling the air. Amelia inner-struggled, however, to appreciate the delightful flavours. She watched with childish fascination as the mountain of food at her elbow was consumed at breakneck speed, an Everest-high prominence reduced to an insignificant molehill of crumbs and scraps in a matter of minutes.
  
  Seymour had an incredible appetite. He demolished more food than any other camper, and yet never failed to wake with a growling stomach. Where all the food went, Amelia had no idea.
  
  Beyond Seymour at the adjoining table, partially blocked by a few of his warmongering siblings, was a belligerent son of Ares by the name of Enzo Dulac, staring right at the the starving boy with a brute smirk; a smile worn by hyenas and trigger-happy children of war, rummaging the crowds for a meaningless bone to pick. Amelia knew Enzo wouldn’t bother them: his body language had softened since she’d arrived, the scuffle-ready tension in his muscles and sinew and the tightness of his jaw dissipating.
  
  Nevertheless, Amelia kept an eye on Enzo. Her aura couldn't shield them from his nature forever; his father's violent temper and lust for battle were unquenchable. Like his father, Enzo was known for causing trouble, crossing himself every way to find any way to start a fight with any one at any time. When the first Roman liaison had arrived, before the quiet son of Zeus - or Jupiter, whatever he was calling himself at the time - Enzo had been spoken out about the arrival of a Roman at Camp Halfblood, threatening him until he proved his metal in a head-to-head match.
  
  Amelia wanted to see Seymour eat his fill without any interruptions. Some days he couldn’t get through the horde of food he claimed.
  
  “A surprise?” Amelia asked, turning towards Seymour. His words had captured her attention, her cup and biscuit abandoned on the table. He was already stuffing his face again, however, shovelling food into his mouth rather than talking.
  
  She realised he must have been thinking more clearly.
  
  “You do realise you don’t need to be gifting me anything, right? We’re friends, sleepyhead. Being there for you, is my job; through thick and thin, through fire and brimstone, hell and high-water, because I’m your friend. That’s all. You don’t need to thank me for that. You being a friend is thanks enough."
  

  
  

 

[WhispFlick]

Elena and Marco Russo - Athena Twins

Elena shrugged, flipping to a marked page in her book. “It doesn’t matter. But you said your plan includes reversal of energy, so you should find someone bigger than you. Someone who will exert a lot of energy for you to use against them.”

At his sisters words, Marco narrowed his eyes a bit. "Oh yeah? And what do you know about exerting energy, exactly?" He smirked, raising a brow. He was cocky. He always wanted to prove his sister wrong even though he knew at the end of the day that she was one of the smartest people he knew. So even though he'd easily make fun of her, he'd never actually let anyone else bring her down.

Before Elena could respond to her twin with a snarky response, there was a rumble. It wasn't long, it wasn't hard enough to knock either of them down, but the vibrations that went through the pair's body was enough to stun them for a few moments. Marco scoffed, sticking his tongue out at his sister. "What d'you want me to do? Earthquake some one to death in battle?" He joked, laughing loudly at himself despite his sister's unbothered face.

She shut her book and looked around the arena, ignoring her brother easily. If he wasn't going to find anyone, then she would. Perhaps having more control would mean that he wouldn't treat anyone unfairly or trick them into doing something. Their tests needed to be fair. "How about you take on Jethro over there?" The brunette asked, gesturing towards the large liaison across the arena from them. Marco was quick to attempt to shut down her idea but before he could get a word out, the girl had begun to walk away. "Jethro! Could you do us a favor for.. scientific purposes?"

"What my sister means to say is that we want to, uh, well.. we wanna train with you. Use all you got, no holding back." Marco said proudly, a goofy grin on his lips as he jogged up behind his sister, throwing an arm around her shoulders much to her dislike. The smaller girl grimaced at his touch, pressing a hand against his side to easily shove him away.

"This is why he needs training. He doesn't even understand how to use his technique against me. So he needs to be challenged by you." The daughter of Athena spoke smoothly, stepping aside and gesturing for the two to do something.

"No swords, please? Just fists." Marco laughed awkwardly, smiling up at Jethro with hesitation.

location: Camp Half-Blood Sword Training Arena | mentions: | interactions: ModernRanger

"Brain and Brawn"

codedbymeraki.

 

[ModernRanger]

Captain Jethro Gerhardt

Location: Sword Arena Mentions: WhispFlick Feeling: Prepared
Jethro looked up as the twins approached him. He knew them both, not personally but he had heard plenty of the Athena twins from other campers and from listening to local gossip. He figured that was how they knew of his own combative skills. He considered the "all you got" request and quickly decided that he would not be able to do that. Sparring or not, demi-god or human, he would never go all out unless lives were on the line. However, that was not the only question he needed to answer. Turning to better look at the twins he asked,
"Alright fists I can do, however what technique? I know Krav Maga, Ju Jitsu, Ta Kwan Doe and a number of others. Using someone's energy sounds more like Judo, is that what you are looking for me to use?"
If he was going to spar with someone so they could practice a technique, he needed to be sure he knew exactly what conditions were expected from him in order to proceed.