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Halfblood Campers: A PJO RP [OOC]

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The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
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Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Halfblood Campers: A PJO RP [OOC]

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Fri Oct 15, 2021 4:36 pm

Image
And so it falls onto you, the last of this age of heroes, to determine it's legacy

It has been 25 uneventful years since the end of the Trials of Apollo. As is always the case, an era of Demigods has passed from the world. As they grew older, their power waned, and so they retired, or perished, one by one, fading into the background. Today Percy Jackson and his friends are a smiled upon memory, a time that has passed, and in the eyes of many monsters, an apocalypse that has finally passed on. And with this era of their children now logged within the history books, so too have the Olympians begun to forget their promises. Some, like Athena and Athena still claim their children to this day, but the rest have slipped back into their old ways. Indeed, it seems like the status quo is returning to the Western World. But in the shadows, new and old evils rouse to once again challenge the Gods, Greek, Roman, and perhaps even more beyond them. And yet, as always, good rises to fight evil, and so a new generation of Demigods shall rise to fight their enemies.


Hello and welcome to Halfblood Campers, an RP set within the Universe of Percy Jackson and the Olympians. In this RP we shall play as the next generation of Demigods to pass through the fields of Camp Half Blood, as a plot that could potentially unravel not just the world of the Olympians, but even more beyond it, becomes revealed. Percy and his friends are no longer around to defend the world, and so it falls on to us to defend it. Who will your character be and how will they carry on the legacy of heroes?

Some introductory notes:
This RP will be run in sections called Books, in the style of Greek Epics. These will function as the basic arcs of the story and the major storylines that characters will be expected to participate in. In between each book there will be plenty of room for side arcs, so don't worry. As noted, this is a story based rp, not a sandbox.

In order to open up some more player options, as noted above, gods will no longer be claiming their children by default at 12-13. Now only some children are claimed again, not to the degree as when Percy arrived at Camp, but it is becoming rarer. This will give you the opportunity to keep your divine parent a mystery for later if you so choose. In most if not all cases this will not require any approval from me. There are some exceptions to this rule however. If you want to play a child of the Big Three, or another exceptionally powerful god/goddess, then you must either TG me here on NS or DM me through Discord (See link further in the OP). In general, if you are not sure which category your chosen parent falls into, then talk to me.

At RP start, characters from the Norse, Egyptian, or any other such pantheons will not be accepted. THIS DOES NOT EXTEND TO ROMANS, if you wish to play a Roman demigod spending the summer at Camp you may. You may also note that I said at the start of the RP for this rule. There will be opportunities for such characters later in the RP, and if that interests you feel free to speak to me about it.

Rules:
1. No godmodding, metagaming, et cetera
2. Two characters max (exceptions must be discussed and approved by OP)
3. The OP's words are law
4. Three lines per post minimum
5. Death is a real possibility. Use common sense in the face of danger. Killing a player character requires the permission of the OP or co-OP
6. Characters should have reasonable abilities, nothing too extreme. You aren't Percy Jackson, yet at least
7. This is ultimately an RP about teenagers. Keep things appropriate for the character's age. And in general, if you have to ask, the answer is no, don't post that.
8. Have Fun!


Apps and Links
Discord Link
IC Link


Code: Select all
[align=center][b][size=150][color=#FF8000]CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM[/color][/size][/b][/align]
[b]Camper Name[/b]:
[b]Age[/b]:
[b]Divine Parentage[/b]: (Please mark as Unknown if applicable)
[b]Appearance[/b]:

[b]Known Abilities[/b]:
[b]Weapons[/b]:

[b]Biography[/b]:

[b]RP Sample[/b]: (Please fill this out with a link to a previous RP post that you are proud of, or a short paragraph of writing. If I know you this isn't neccesary.)



CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Kore Russo
Age: 13
Divine Parentage: Unknown
Appearance: Image

Known Abilities:
Demigod Physiology: Kore has the standard Demigod physiology. She's stronger, faster, and tougher than ordinary mortals, with enhanced reaction speed and the ability to speak and read ancient greek fluently. Other than this she currently has no known abilities.
Weapons: None

Biography: Kore Russo was born on January 31st, 2024, to Apollonia Russo, the tough daughter of italian immigrants. Kore's young life was never easy, Apollonia was not well off and wherever Kore's father was, he was not providing for the family. The young mother and child moved around the country, never really staying in one place for long, until when Kore was about 7. Her mother got a lucky break, and was asked to audition for a play off the street by a producer. Apollonia turned out to be a natural actress, and soon her star was rising. Kore suddenly found herself in a world of comfort and luxury, but this world came with a price. With all of her newfound success, Kore's mother turned her over to various babysitters as she no longer had the time to raise her child.

As she entered school, Kore quickly found that she wasn't good at it. She couldn't read, the letters wouldn't stay straight in her head. That's not to say she wasn't intelligent, but her dyslexia made learning difficult for her. When it was found out that she had both dyslexia and ADHD, the fancy school her mother sent her too drew up all kinds of fancy programs to help her stay on track. Kore did better because of this, but became ridiculed by her classmates because of it. Some of them even tried to attack her, but no one would believe Kore when she said they had fangs or horns or claws. Each time they came after her she escaped only by a little less. Eventually, they followed her home.

The attack on the Russo's penthouse is a mystery to mortals to this day. For Kore it was like all of her nightmares came to life. A pack of hellhounds, led by a mysterious figure cloaked in black, broke into her home late at night. Kore awoke to her mother screaming, and the sight of the hellhounds attacking her as she protected her daughter, a glowing knife in her hand. Her mother yelled for her to run, and so Kore did, fleeing through the apartment. The cloaked man gave chase, but before he could catch Kore, the young girl leaped from the penthouse's balcony. The next morning, the police arrived to find starlet Apollonia Russo mauled to death in her own apartment, her daughter missing, and not a single other piece of evidence.

She didn't remember what happened next. She woke up the next day, dozens of miles upstate near Bear Mountain State Park. She knew from a voice in her dreams when everything went dark that she was being hunted, and that she had to run. And so she did, fleeing her hunters up and down New York and New England. She learned to fight. She learned to steal. She didn't know what hunted her or why, but she managed to avoid all of her persuers one way or another. Sometimes she would beat them herself in the case of smaller threats, lone hellhounds and the like, other times she managed to outrun them. And then there were the times Kore got lucky and she knew it. Some other homeless person would attack her monster first. A car would strike them out of no where. Once she witnessed a boy with a glowing spear stab a giant through his chin in Boston. She didn't question it, but she didn't like knowing that each of those times she would have lost were it not for luck.

Then, one fateful May afternoon, as she tore into a hotdog under a bridge in Portland Maine, another homeless man named Lander approached her. She recognized him, he had always been nice to her when they had met. Now something was different though. He had been cut up, bad, and he had horns sprouting from his head. She almost attacked him thinking he was hunting her. Before she could though, the homeless man managed to blurt out that he knew about her father. When she paused, the Satyr, as he explained he was, gave her the spill, and asked her to run with him to a place that could help her. With attacks on her becoming more and more frequent since she had turned 13, she saw little choice but to follow...

RP Sample: I'm the OP
Last edited by The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune on Sun Nov 07, 2021 2:23 pm, edited 4 times in total.

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The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Fri Oct 15, 2021 4:37 pm

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The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Sat Oct 16, 2021 1:32 pm

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Nations United for Conquest
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Nations United for Conquest » Sat Oct 16, 2021 4:31 pm

CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Alec Thomson
Age: 16
Divine Parentage: Legacy of Pales
Appearance:
Image

Known Abilities:
  • Blessing of the Gods[Minor] - To have divine blood in one's veins, increasing all natural physical abilities above any mortal. Lessened due to Legacy Status
  • Child of Rome - To have a deep connection to Rome. Allows for understanding of said culture and history at an instinctual level
  • Shoulder to Shoulder - To posses training and ability in military and battlefield arts, not limited to but including formations, large scale fighting, and basic understanding of military commands. A basic skill of all Legionnaires
  • Battle Sense[Minor] - To posses an instinctive understanding of the flow of battle and surviving combat. Lessened due to Legacy Status
  • A Shepherd's Duty[Minor] - To posses insight into the state of people and their relationships to a greater whole. To know when wolves and black sheep exist within a flock. Lessened due to Legacy Status
Weapons:
  • Imperial Gold Gladius - A typical sword of the Legionnaire, made of Imperial Gold
  • Standard Scutum - A typical shield of the Legionnaire, lined with Imperial Gold on the edges
  • Standard Phila - A typical javelin of the Legionnaire, with a tip coated in a thin layer of Imperial Gold

Biography: Born on a cool evening in September, a few hours shy of the Autumn Equinox to George Thomson and Mary Thomson, the life of Alec growing up was far from irregular and a far cry from what his father had experienced. George Thomson was the son of a clear sighted mortal who had spent a great deal of her life within the confines of New Rome. Fearing for her life after witnessing an attack on her school, she fled with a good friend to the borders of Camp Jupiter, seeking refugee. There, she lent her skills towards the culinary arts in becoming a baker who supplied rations to the Legion on their many campaigns. Eventually, when she was in her early twenties, she managed to earn the attention of the God Pales and from their union was born George. The boy grew up within the walls of New Rome, gaining his education in both Modern and Archaic within those walls, never once venturing out in the first ten odd years of his life. By the time he was of age to join the legion, things were beginning to change. Enemies were at their walls as the ancient enemies of the Gods began to awaken once more for another shot at world domination.

A part of the fifth cohort, given his relatively obscure divine parentage, George fought through both the Titan and Giant campaigns. He never rose far through the ranks, but he was known as a capable soldier in his own right. Pales was a God worshiped on the campaign trail and although not associated with battle or war like other Roman Deities, it was the natural place of the God and therefore his children. At the end of the Second Giant War, and nursing the injuries from two wars, he eventually left the legion behind and moved to the great northern woods of Maine. There he married a local fisherman's daughter and to him she bore a singular child; Alec.

Pales, being an obscure god, made life outside of the Legion and the walls of New Rome fairly simple for the Thomson family. In the North East where the power of the Olympians waned, and the location of Olympus only some hours south, made most monsters refrain from giving the family too much trouble. The occasional Hellhound or Harpy straying too close to the homestead only to be met with the sharp stab of a phila or a slash of the Gladius. Most monsters in the area learned quick not to trifle with the war veteran nor his family. As such, Alec was free to explore the woods around his home much to his leisure. He grew up in the public school system of a small town, residue ADHD from his father interrupting his studies, but not to the point where any issue could be seen. His demi-god traits were latent and a side from a few curious young monsters and the occasional troubling English lesson, school was smooth. When not at school he was found doing chores around homestead, ranging from chopping wood to collecting water from the well. As he grew older he would join his father on hunting trips and learning the basics of sword and spear play.

His father often regaled him with stories from the Legion. Of the battles he fought through and the friends he had made. Sometimes he spoke of the heroes he had met too. How dashing and powerful Praetor Grace had been when part of the legion and how proud he felt fighting under him during the Titan War. Of Jackson and Reyna and the battle on the Field of Mars against the Giant and his armies. The only thing he never spoke about in great length was the battle with the Greeks, for he said it left a bad taste in his mouth. They were, in his father's opinion, the best years of his life. Yet, he never spoke of taking young Alec to join the Legion. The choice was his, and frankly, the boy found no inclination to partake. He carried the diluted blood of a minor god. He had friends in school and a simple good life. The world had been saved and for all intents and purposes, it was an age of peace in the mythological world, at least on the Greco-Roman side of things.

Things changed, however, when he was twelve. His father had elected to take a trip out to Northern California. A few friends from his days in the Legion were gathering at a friends residence to celebrate and tell old war stories. It had been nearly fifteen years since his father had left the legion, and seeing as how a few of them had some children, he was brought along to interact. All was well until one fateful romp in the woods, left him 'accidentally', though he would later doubt such, in the den of a certain wolf. Next thing he knew he found himself involuntarily conscripted into a militia straight out of the first century. Without papers and only his family name to, well, his name, he wound up in the Fifth Cohort. While it had once been famous due to the exploits of a certain due of Big Three Sons, the ebb and flow of time had reduced it once more back to the station of the low as traditional roles within the legion began to resurface.

Over the next few years he worked himself hard. Being a legacy and one of an obscure god, while helpful for avoiding monster attacks, was of little benefit when forced to compete or even keep up with the natural talent and ability of full fledged demi-gods. However, he was a stubborn bastard and fell into swing within the legion quickly enough. He put in double the effort of his brothers and sisters, and quickly gained attention. However, not all of it was good. Alec was a fighter, and like his father before him, he was made for the campaign trail. Sitting around in garrison and the monthly patrol did little to sate the Legionnaire. Through fights and other misdemeanors he gathered equal awards of merit and commendation. Yet, his skills as a soldier could no be denied, and eventually he would hold the position of Optio Centurnious. A rank he continually lost and then earned back more than a few times.

In recent days, as a browning assignment on the path towards Centurion, he was stationed with in the Romans within Camp Half-Blood. There he helped train the Greeks in more conventional formations and tactics and promoted good welfare between the two. Or at least he was supposed to. Most of the time he spends dueling the other Greeks, notably those of the Ares cabin and sneaking out on patrols when he isn't stuck on some sort of detail for behavior. Though, he also has the other job of sorting out potential Romans from the mix of Greeks and being an early warning component should something go airy in the East...

RP Sample:
The story of the Lost Forest of Summer is one of the oldest legends still told on the Continent, one passed readily in both the Oral and Written tradition. There exists nearly as many renditions of the story as there are people within the Kingdom, for each person has their own idea of the Ancient Forest and the tales that sprung forth, some going so far as to claim they have walked upon its rich soils and slept beneath the shade of it's heavenly reaching trees. Many stories disagree upon when the story took place, and those who were privileged to step within the Forest itself. Some claim it to be the resting place of the Gods, whilst others that it holds the entry point to the afterlife. Legendary warriors from ages past have claimed in their tales to have sought out the forest as a place to train and hone their skills or as the paradise offered for righteous service to their lord and the Gods. What the few can agree upon is the events of the Forest's creation and the beloved Goddess bourne from the encounter.

The Tale begins in the earliest days of Man, when all but the oldest of the Elder Gods were to be considered young and the concept of society and kingdoms but a dream in the deepest reaches of Man's consciousness. For it was in this age that Man was contained but to a few villages spread here and there and a great many still wandered the plains and forests, trapping and foraging; living off the bounty of the land as it was called. It was an Age when some Gods still walked the lands among Man and future deities were but young babes. The power of the Gods was rich and their influence on the world strong, for it was still in the stage where it could be shaped to their will and the collective of Man had yet to stabilize themselves and the power of the Gods. Among these Gods was Grásta, in those days largely relegated to his singular Authority of the Sun, for Man had no need of Oaths and was far too young and fragile to dare gather in Festivities, and thus Grásta was content to lord over the Sun and the beloved season of Summer, though it was simply 'The Warm and Wet Times' in those days.

The Sun was one of the earliest sights of which Man had the privilege of gazing upon, it's light and splendor and power a natural thing to be drawn to. Under the gaze of the sun the beasts which hunted Man in the dark were scarce seen and even if one were to be so bold they were easy to spot and chase off. The grandeur of the Son was among one of the first non-instinctual concepts, such as Death, and perhaps in those days only rivaled by the Beauty and Mysticism of the Moon herself. As such the origins of Grásta were never clear, for one tribe may claim He was the Sun given form so that Man may more readily praise his splendor and reap his bounty, whilst some claimed He was no more than the Herilader of Day who graced the lands with the glow of that heavenly orb of fire. Regardless of His nature, His power was a potent one, and in those days it was rare that Grásta should choose to walk the land among Man as many other Gods had thought to do. Thus He remained in the heavens, high above the earth, simply watching and marveling at the ingeniousness and splendor of Man; how he bent the world to his will and sought to make the best of not but scraps. Yet, as the years passed and Man continued to grow, spreading its influence about the continent like the roots of a tree may upon the land it was planted, steadily growing stronger, it was a slow pace, and even without the Authorities of Cygic He could see stagnation and eventual downfall rapidly approaching the horizon.

It was simply something the Young God did not wish to see transpire. He had grown fond of Man and took curious interest in their abilities and wished to see their potential realized. They had come far from simple wanders which scarcely lived a few decades to a powerful group that had begun to surpass even the estimates the Gods believed. How many years or decades had passed since Man had made a grand leap? He had seen when they had developed fire and cooking, He was present when the first rudimentary tents dotted the plains, the first houses of wood and clay had been borne under the watchful eye of the Sun as they toiled away in His vision. He saw the beginnings of craft arise as they fashioned clothes, and pots and tools. They had begun to settle and develop, but the rate at which Man's numbers grew could not be supported by their feeble means of procuring the supplies they so desperately needed. Ardemia's Grace and the bounty of the forests could only feed so many people, and whilst some sought to rectify such an issue, their efforts were slow and minuscule. If the Age of Man was ever to come about, He knew he would need to take action. Yet, what could He do? His Authorities at the time were powerful and raw though few in number. What could He do with the Sun and Summer? Man had already possessed fire and the boons that came with it, and while it could be improved, lest the issue of population be solved it would never progress. Summer's length could be increased, but to what effect that would have on the land, He did not known. There was also the issue of encroaching on the Authorities of His fellow Gods, and a conflict between the Divine at this time would certainly lead to the destruction of Man or at best stunt their growth permanently for centuries.

Regardless Grásta was aware He must act, and soon, as a day in the mind of a God may be months or years to those of Man. Simply staying in the Heavens and pondering on a course of action would only serve to further hamper the efforts of Man to persevere. Thus, for the first time in what could have possible been forever, Grásta set himself down upon the Land, for the briefest of times. He had struck a deal with Luria, Goddess of the Moon, to have Her grace the sky for a moment, at least in the eyes of a God, so that Man would not panic completely if the Sun were to vanish from sight. Hopefully the presence of the Moon, which they so revered, would calm them. It was a phenomenon that would later be recorded by Man simply as an eclipse and for it Grásta owed the Moon Goddess a favor. In those briefest of times Grásta took full advantage of His rest from toil and set His feet upon the earth. The instant the Young God touched the ground, all the grass about Him was burned to a crisp; blackened against the relatively lush scene of a summer's day. Yet, despite the destruction of the ground upon which He stepped, the forest and vegetation around Him readily began soaking upon the divinity radiating off of the Young God, for while the Authority of Nature may not rest in His domain, it is from the Sun, and thus He, that life springs. In an instant once shaky saplings had grown full trunks, so round that five men would not be able to form a chain about it and canopies which once threatened to brush upon the heads of thus walking beneath climbed towards the heavens with such vigor it was a wonder they did not part the clouds above. Shrubs and flowers instantly came into full bloom, and a calming cool wind began to weave it's way through the many eves and hallows and tree trunks of the forest, rustling leaves as it based, waking the forest into a chorus of natural splendor. It was at that moment the Young God realized with a smile what needed to be done.

The earth, seemingly responding to the God of the Sun's wishes began to change, the blackened and scared soil under the feat of the God began to shift and changing, moving from its charcoal like hue to one of deep mahogany. And from this freshly tilled patch of soil did small clumps of dirt begin to stir and shift, at first slowly as if simply caught upon the soft breeze echoing throughout the forest, before eventually moving with such speed that a storm may as well have rolled through the forest. Steadily a form began to take shape from rising mounds of dirt upon the scorched earth; that of a young woman, lovely and bountiful in her beauty with a slender body of fertile soil, a dress grown from the loose falling leaves of many a tree in the forest and a long strands of vine, bramble and bristle weaved together into a mane of a rich hues of blond and gold and brown, like a fresh wicker broom head. Despite this, however, the body of the young woman was still but a collection of borrowed pieces of nature, for she had no feature upon her face and no eyes within her head and was still very much made of earth. But Grásta knew how to rectify such an issue, for it is the Sun's light that gives life to the forest, and thus He thrust his thumbs deep into the soil of the earthly woman and from within a soft green light did pulse.

In the next moment a monumental change came upon the woman as she slowly rose from her earthen bed. The bumpy and uneven soil deposits that was once her skin began to smooth and round out till it came to a natural gleam and fairness, free of any blemish nor marking and as rich in color as the earth below Grásta's feet from which she was born. Hair which had been but a tangled mess of vines and brier began to fade and darken till it was a radiant amber interlaced with variegated tufts and strands of a golden hue which seemed to all but glow in the presence of Grásta. And finally, from her alluring face gazed out a pair of deep Green eyes which seemed as if a field of grass and which rolled on forever in a mid-summer's afternoon. However, the newly born woman was not the only one undergoing changes, for even Grásta himself began to change. If He had been bought a young man in his early twenties, and much the same age as the beautiful young lass who stood before him, beaming with a smile that could wash away the coldest of winds, He now appeared to have aged considerably, being closer to his early thirties, though with Gods, and one of Youth at that, it is oft times hard to truly tell. There was also a noticeable change in His power, for once it had been raw and unrestrained, it now felt calm and subdued. Not in the manner that it felt weaker, per se, but rather it was refined and clear, more easily focused and channeled by the still Young God. But rather than ponder on the changes to his Authorities manifestation other things required attention. Namely the young lass, or more fitting, the budding Goddess before him.

Grásta would come to name the Young Godling, Fás who was born of the Sun's Radiance and Grásta's own love for Man, of which the later was made core of the Young Godling's design. She was an interesting entity upon the Continent for Fás wasn't a true born God, created the laying of two full Gods and nor was she a Demigod, but rather something else. A manifestation of a God's will and a Semblance of their Authorities, and perhaps the first and only of her kind. Yet, like some of the Gods who would eventually follow after her many a year down the line, her Authorities were few and young, and while powerful in that Age, as were all Gods', they were unclear and unrefined in their existence. Thus, she was tasked to discover them and to walk among Man before she would claim her rightful seat among the other Gods of the Land. The forest of her birth was blessed by Grásta Himself to forever remain her home whilst she traveled and sought out Man to earn their grace and love. And earn she did. For many a year or perhaps decades, she walked among the world as other Gods resided in the Heavens or their own respective dominions of control. As she wandered she taught a great deal to Man. She taught them how to plant and raise crop, and when the time came to harvest and refine them so that their people may be fed. She guided them in the taming of beasts of the wild so that they may worked harder and fasted and upon a greater swath of land. And, as Grásta had wished, her influence proved immensely beneficial to the growth of Man. What were once small scattered villages of but a few dozen people rose rapidly in their numbers becoming towns and settlements of splendor. She shared her love with Man and in turn they did to her, gracing her with prayer and bounty more so than any God in that Age, save for perhaps those of the Sun, Moon, and instinctual concepts.

Thus, the downfall of Man had been averted and the Age of Man drawn ever closer to fruition. Man advanced in his ability and ideas, no longer shackled by their lack of numbers. The Authorities of the then Young Gods grew and became refined, all the while more Gods began to appear upon the land as Man grew. In the end, Fás remains among one of the more popular and respected Gods across the continent, her gifts a saving grace to man and a boon for their growth and is rumored to reside in the Forest of Summer whence the winter months come, and in the old days festivals were held to seek out the Goddess to awaken her in time for Spring so that planting may begin in earnest.
Last edited by Nations United for Conquest on Mon Oct 18, 2021 9:54 am, edited 1 time in total.
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User avatar
The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
Minister
 
Posts: 3429
Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Sat Oct 16, 2021 6:32 pm

Nations United for Conquest wrote:
CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Alec Thomson
Age: 16
Divine Parentage: Legacy of Pales
Appearance:

Known Abilities:
  • Blessing of the Gods[Minor] - To have divine blood in one's veins, increasing all natural physical abilities above any mortal. Lessened due to Legacy Status
  • Child of Rome - To have a deep connection to Rome. Allows for understanding of said culture and history at an instinctual level
  • Shoulder to Shoulder - To posses training and ability in military and battlefield arts, not limited to but including formations, large scale fighting, and basic understanding of military commands. A basic skill of all Legionnaires
  • Battle Sense[Minor] - To posses an instinctive understanding of the flow of battle and surviving combat. Lessened due to Legacy Status
  • A Shepherd's Duty[Minor] - To posses insight into the state of people and their relationships to a greater whole. To know when wolves and black sheep exist within a flock. Lessened due to Legacy Status
Weapons:
  • Imperial Gold Gladius - A typical sword of the Legionnaire, made of Imperial Gold
  • Standard Scutum - A typical shield of the Legionnaire, lined with Imperial Gold on the edges
  • Standard Phila - A typical javelin of the Legionnaire, with a tip coated in a thin layer of Imperial Gold

Biography: Born on a cool evening in September, a few hours shy of the Autumn Equinox to George Thomson and Mary Thomson, the life of Alec growing up was far from irregular and a far cry from what his father had experienced. George Thomson was the son of a clear sighted mortal who had spent a great deal of her life within the confines of New Rome. Fearing for her life after witnessing an attack on her school, she fled with a good friend to the borders of Camp Jupiter, seeking refugee. There, she lent her skills towards the culinary arts in becoming a baker who supplied rations to the Legion on their many campaigns. Eventually, when she was in her early twenties, she managed to earn the attention of the God Pales and from their union was born George. The boy grew up within the walls of New Rome, gaining his education in both Modern and Archaic within those walls, never once venturing out in the first ten odd years of his life. By the time he was of age to join the legion, things were beginning to change. Enemies were at their walls as the ancient enemies of the Gods began to awaken once more for another shot at world domination.

A part of the fifth cohort, given his relatively obscure divine parentage, George fought through both the Titan and Giant campaigns. He never rose far through the ranks, but he was known as a capable soldier in his own right. Pales was a God worshiped on the campaign trail and although not associated with battle or war like other Roman Deities, it was the natural place of the God and therefore his children. At the end of the Second Giant War, and nursing the injuries from two wars, he eventually left the legion behind and moved to the great northern woods of Maine. There he married a local fisherman's daughter and to him she bore a singular child; Alec.

Pales, being an obscure god, made life outside of the Legion and the walls of New Rome fairly simple for the Thomson family. In the North East where the power of the Olympians waned, and the location of Olympus only some hours south, made most monsters refrain from giving the family too much trouble. The occasional Hellhound or Harpy straying too close to the homestead only to be met with the sharp stab of a phila or a slash of the Gladius. Most monsters in the area learned quick not to trifle with the war veteran nor his family. As such, Alec was free to explore the woods around his home much to his leisure. He grew up in the public school system of a small town, residue ADHD from his father interrupting his studies, but not to the point where any issue could be seen. His demi-god traits were latent and a side from a few curious young monsters and the occasional troubling English lesson, school was smooth. When not at school he was found doing chores around homestead, ranging from chopping wood to collecting water from the well. As he grew older he would join his father on hunting trips and learning the basics of sword and spear play.

His father often regaled him with stories from the Legion. Of the battles he fought through and the friends he had made. Sometimes he spoke of the heroes he had met too. How dashing and powerful Praetor Grace had been when part of the legion and how proud he felt fighting under him during the Titan War. Of Jackson and Reyna and the battle on the Field of Mars against the Giant and his armies. The only thing he never spoke about in great length was the battle with the Greeks, for he said it left a bad taste in his mouth. They were, in his father's opinion, the best years of his life. Yet, he never spoke of taking young Alec to join the Legion. The choice was his, and frankly, the boy found no inclination to partake. He carried the diluted blood of a minor god. He had friends in school and a simple good life. The world had been saved and for all intents and purposes, it was an age of peace in the mythological world, at least on the Greco-Roman side of things.

Things changed, however, when he was twelve. His father had elected to take a trip out to Northern California. A few friends from his days in the Legion were gathering at a friends residence to celebrate and tell old war stories. It had been nearly fifteen years since his father had left the legion, and seeing as how a few of them had some children, he was brought along to interact. All was well until one fateful romp in the woods, left him 'accidentally', though he would later doubt such, in the den of a certain wolf. Next thing he knew he found himself involuntarily conscripted into a militia straight out of the first century. Without papers and only his family name to, well, his name, he wound up in the Fifth Cohort. While it had once been famous due to the exploits of a certain due of Big Three Sons, the ebb and flow of time had reduced it once more back to the station of the low as traditional roles within the legion began to resurface.

Over the next few years he worked himself hard. Being a legacy and one of an obscure god, while helpful for avoiding monster attacks, was of little benefit when forced to compete or even keep up with the natural talent and ability of full fledged demi-gods. However, he was a stubborn bastard and fell into swing within the legion quickly enough. He put in double the effort of his brothers and sisters, and quickly gained attention. However, not all of it was good. Alec was a fighter, and like his father before him, he was made for the campaign trail. Sitting around in garrison and the monthly patrol did little to sate the Legionnaire. Through fights and other misdemeanors he gathered equal awards of merit and commendation. Yet, his skills as a soldier could no be denied, and eventually he would hold the position of Optio Centurnious. A rank he continually lost and then earned back more than a few times.

In recent days, as a browning assignment on the path towards Centurion, he was stationed with in the Romans within Camp Half-Blood. There he helped train the Greeks in more conventional formations and tactics and promoted good welfare between the two. Or at least he was supposed to. Most of the time he spends dueling the other Greeks, notably those of the Ares cabin and sneaking out on patrols when he isn't stuck on some sort of detail for behavior. Though, he also has the other job of sorting out potential Romans from the mix of Greeks and being an early warning component should something go airy in the East...

RP Sample:
The story of the Lost Forest of Summer is one of the oldest legends still told on the Continent, one passed readily in both the Oral and Written tradition. There exists nearly as many renditions of the story as there are people within the Kingdom, for each person has their own idea of the Ancient Forest and the tales that sprung forth, some going so far as to claim they have walked upon its rich soils and slept beneath the shade of it's heavenly reaching trees. Many stories disagree upon when the story took place, and those who were privileged to step within the Forest itself. Some claim it to be the resting place of the Gods, whilst others that it holds the entry point to the afterlife. Legendary warriors from ages past have claimed in their tales to have sought out the forest as a place to train and hone their skills or as the paradise offered for righteous service to their lord and the Gods. What the few can agree upon is the events of the Forest's creation and the beloved Goddess bourne from the encounter.

The Tale begins in the earliest days of Man, when all but the oldest of the Elder Gods were to be considered young and the concept of society and kingdoms but a dream in the deepest reaches of Man's consciousness. For it was in this age that Man was contained but to a few villages spread here and there and a great many still wandered the plains and forests, trapping and foraging; living off the bounty of the land as it was called. It was an Age when some Gods still walked the lands among Man and future deities were but young babes. The power of the Gods was rich and their influence on the world strong, for it was still in the stage where it could be shaped to their will and the collective of Man had yet to stabilize themselves and the power of the Gods. Among these Gods was Grásta, in those days largely relegated to his singular Authority of the Sun, for Man had no need of Oaths and was far too young and fragile to dare gather in Festivities, and thus Grásta was content to lord over the Sun and the beloved season of Summer, though it was simply 'The Warm and Wet Times' in those days.

The Sun was one of the earliest sights of which Man had the privilege of gazing upon, it's light and splendor and power a natural thing to be drawn to. Under the gaze of the sun the beasts which hunted Man in the dark were scarce seen and even if one were to be so bold they were easy to spot and chase off. The grandeur of the Son was among one of the first non-instinctual concepts, such as Death, and perhaps in those days only rivaled by the Beauty and Mysticism of the Moon herself. As such the origins of Grásta were never clear, for one tribe may claim He was the Sun given form so that Man may more readily praise his splendor and reap his bounty, whilst some claimed He was no more than the Herilader of Day who graced the lands with the glow of that heavenly orb of fire. Regardless of His nature, His power was a potent one, and in those days it was rare that Grásta should choose to walk the land among Man as many other Gods had thought to do. Thus He remained in the heavens, high above the earth, simply watching and marveling at the ingeniousness and splendor of Man; how he bent the world to his will and sought to make the best of not but scraps. Yet, as the years passed and Man continued to grow, spreading its influence about the continent like the roots of a tree may upon the land it was planted, steadily growing stronger, it was a slow pace, and even without the Authorities of Cygic He could see stagnation and eventual downfall rapidly approaching the horizon.

It was simply something the Young God did not wish to see transpire. He had grown fond of Man and took curious interest in their abilities and wished to see their potential realized. They had come far from simple wanders which scarcely lived a few decades to a powerful group that had begun to surpass even the estimates the Gods believed. How many years or decades had passed since Man had made a grand leap? He had seen when they had developed fire and cooking, He was present when the first rudimentary tents dotted the plains, the first houses of wood and clay had been borne under the watchful eye of the Sun as they toiled away in His vision. He saw the beginnings of craft arise as they fashioned clothes, and pots and tools. They had begun to settle and develop, but the rate at which Man's numbers grew could not be supported by their feeble means of procuring the supplies they so desperately needed. Ardemia's Grace and the bounty of the forests could only feed so many people, and whilst some sought to rectify such an issue, their efforts were slow and minuscule. If the Age of Man was ever to come about, He knew he would need to take action. Yet, what could He do? His Authorities at the time were powerful and raw though few in number. What could He do with the Sun and Summer? Man had already possessed fire and the boons that came with it, and while it could be improved, lest the issue of population be solved it would never progress. Summer's length could be increased, but to what effect that would have on the land, He did not known. There was also the issue of encroaching on the Authorities of His fellow Gods, and a conflict between the Divine at this time would certainly lead to the destruction of Man or at best stunt their growth permanently for centuries.

Regardless Grásta was aware He must act, and soon, as a day in the mind of a God may be months or years to those of Man. Simply staying in the Heavens and pondering on a course of action would only serve to further hamper the efforts of Man to persevere. Thus, for the first time in what could have possible been forever, Grásta set himself down upon the Land, for the briefest of times. He had struck a deal with Luria, Goddess of the Moon, to have Her grace the sky for a moment, at least in the eyes of a God, so that Man would not panic completely if the Sun were to vanish from sight. Hopefully the presence of the Moon, which they so revered, would calm them. It was a phenomenon that would later be recorded by Man simply as an eclipse and for it Grásta owed the Moon Goddess a favor. In those briefest of times Grásta took full advantage of His rest from toil and set His feet upon the earth. The instant the Young God touched the ground, all the grass about Him was burned to a crisp; blackened against the relatively lush scene of a summer's day. Yet, despite the destruction of the ground upon which He stepped, the forest and vegetation around Him readily began soaking upon the divinity radiating off of the Young God, for while the Authority of Nature may not rest in His domain, it is from the Sun, and thus He, that life springs. In an instant once shaky saplings had grown full trunks, so round that five men would not be able to form a chain about it and canopies which once threatened to brush upon the heads of thus walking beneath climbed towards the heavens with such vigor it was a wonder they did not part the clouds above. Shrubs and flowers instantly came into full bloom, and a calming cool wind began to weave it's way through the many eves and hallows and tree trunks of the forest, rustling leaves as it based, waking the forest into a chorus of natural splendor. It was at that moment the Young God realized with a smile what needed to be done.

The earth, seemingly responding to the God of the Sun's wishes began to change, the blackened and scared soil under the feat of the God began to shift and changing, moving from its charcoal like hue to one of deep mahogany. And from this freshly tilled patch of soil did small clumps of dirt begin to stir and shift, at first slowly as if simply caught upon the soft breeze echoing throughout the forest, before eventually moving with such speed that a storm may as well have rolled through the forest. Steadily a form began to take shape from rising mounds of dirt upon the scorched earth; that of a young woman, lovely and bountiful in her beauty with a slender body of fertile soil, a dress grown from the loose falling leaves of many a tree in the forest and a long strands of vine, bramble and bristle weaved together into a mane of a rich hues of blond and gold and brown, like a fresh wicker broom head. Despite this, however, the body of the young woman was still but a collection of borrowed pieces of nature, for she had no feature upon her face and no eyes within her head and was still very much made of earth. But Grásta knew how to rectify such an issue, for it is the Sun's light that gives life to the forest, and thus He thrust his thumbs deep into the soil of the earthly woman and from within a soft green light did pulse.

In the next moment a monumental change came upon the woman as she slowly rose from her earthen bed. The bumpy and uneven soil deposits that was once her skin began to smooth and round out till it came to a natural gleam and fairness, free of any blemish nor marking and as rich in color as the earth below Grásta's feet from which she was born. Hair which had been but a tangled mess of vines and brier began to fade and darken till it was a radiant amber interlaced with variegated tufts and strands of a golden hue which seemed to all but glow in the presence of Grásta. And finally, from her alluring face gazed out a pair of deep Green eyes which seemed as if a field of grass and which rolled on forever in a mid-summer's afternoon. However, the newly born woman was not the only one undergoing changes, for even Grásta himself began to change. If He had been bought a young man in his early twenties, and much the same age as the beautiful young lass who stood before him, beaming with a smile that could wash away the coldest of winds, He now appeared to have aged considerably, being closer to his early thirties, though with Gods, and one of Youth at that, it is oft times hard to truly tell. There was also a noticeable change in His power, for once it had been raw and unrestrained, it now felt calm and subdued. Not in the manner that it felt weaker, per se, but rather it was refined and clear, more easily focused and channeled by the still Young God. But rather than ponder on the changes to his Authorities manifestation other things required attention. Namely the young lass, or more fitting, the budding Goddess before him.

Grásta would come to name the Young Godling, Fás who was born of the Sun's Radiance and Grásta's own love for Man, of which the later was made core of the Young Godling's design. She was an interesting entity upon the Continent for Fás wasn't a true born God, created the laying of two full Gods and nor was she a Demigod, but rather something else. A manifestation of a God's will and a Semblance of their Authorities, and perhaps the first and only of her kind. Yet, like some of the Gods who would eventually follow after her many a year down the line, her Authorities were few and young, and while powerful in that Age, as were all Gods', they were unclear and unrefined in their existence. Thus, she was tasked to discover them and to walk among Man before she would claim her rightful seat among the other Gods of the Land. The forest of her birth was blessed by Grásta Himself to forever remain her home whilst she traveled and sought out Man to earn their grace and love. And earn she did. For many a year or perhaps decades, she walked among the world as other Gods resided in the Heavens or their own respective dominions of control. As she wandered she taught a great deal to Man. She taught them how to plant and raise crop, and when the time came to harvest and refine them so that their people may be fed. She guided them in the taming of beasts of the wild so that they may worked harder and fasted and upon a greater swath of land. And, as Grásta had wished, her influence proved immensely beneficial to the growth of Man. What were once small scattered villages of but a few dozen people rose rapidly in their numbers becoming towns and settlements of splendor. She shared her love with Man and in turn they did to her, gracing her with prayer and bounty more so than any God in that Age, save for perhaps those of the Sun, Moon, and instinctual concepts.

Thus, the downfall of Man had been averted and the Age of Man drawn ever closer to fruition. Man advanced in his ability and ideas, no longer shackled by their lack of numbers. The Authorities of the then Young Gods grew and became refined, all the while more Gods began to appear upon the land as Man grew. In the end, Fás remains among one of the more popular and respected Gods across the continent, her gifts a saving grace to man and a boon for their growth and is rumored to reside in the Forest of Summer whence the winter months come, and in the old days festivals were held to seek out the Goddess to awaken her in time for Spring so that planting may begin in earnest.


Looks good, welcome aboard

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Rupudska
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 20692
Founded: Sep 16, 2010
Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby Rupudska » Sat Oct 16, 2021 7:07 pm

How much of the series do I need to have read for this? I only have vague recollections of the first two books.
The Holy Roman Empire of Karlsland (MT/FanT & FT/FanT)
THE Strike Witches NationState
Best thread ever.|Ace Combat!
MT Factbook/FT Factbook|Embassy|Q&A
On Karlsland Witch Doctrine:
Hladgos wrote:Scantly clad women, more like tanks
seem to be blowing up everyones banks
with airstrikes from girls with wings to their knees
which show a bit more than just their panties

Questers wrote:
Rupudska wrote:So do you fight with AK-47s or something even more primitive? Since I doubt any economy could reasonably sustain itself that way.
Presumably they use advanced technology like STRIKE WITCHES

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Ormata
Senator
 
Posts: 4643
Founded: Jun 30, 2016
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Ormata » Sat Oct 16, 2021 7:19 pm

CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM
Image
Camper Name: Eliza “Mama” Vulsen
Age: 19
Divine Parentage: Hephaestus
Appearance:
    Standing at 5’6”, Eliza is somewhat built when compared to other Demigods about the camp though is, for a Hephaestus child, on the lithe and lean side. Her skin is tanned, both by long hours under the sun as well as substantial time at work, hands calloused and nearly perpetually dirtied from those same tasks. Eliza’s brown hair, while just nearly touching her shoulders, is normally kept loose and wild with the exception of while working, when she puts it up in a loose, haphazard ponytail to keep out of the way. In terms of daily clothing, Eliza prefers to wear simple loose t-shirts, blue jeans, and sneakers with a minimum of jewelry.
Known Abilities:
    Standard Demigod Physiology
      Stronger than most mortals, she is capable of feats of strength improbable for someone of Eliza’s size. Faster than others and with better reaction times, she’s more of a sprinter than a marathon runner. Lastly, Eliza is far tougher than looks might suggest. Eliza is able to read and speak Ancient Greek, though her accent is apparently terrible and her scrawl barely legible. In addition to this, she possesses strong Clear Sight, even compared to other Demigods, and is hard to fool with the Mist. She lastly has the dubious benefits of ADHD and Dyslexia.
    Technokinesis
      Eliza instinctively knows how machines operate, both mechanically and with the aid of electrical systems, and can sense issues within mechanical systems to the degree of being able to pinpoint them with some degree of ease. She is able to sense faults in the metal itself, insofar as stress or strain, and with this information can predict likely breaking points in mechanical systems based on where the strains are concentrated. In terms of utilizing vehicles, Eliza is capable for most though cannot fly, though this is far more of a byproduct of practice and less of a natural talent. Some minor talent in Electrokinesis is also present, though this is far more applicable in conjunction with mechanical systems and hardware than in terms of software. She is especially skilled in the creation and control of automatons, of which she keeps several maintained and builds others for use about the camp itself.
    Weapons:Biography:
      Born in Pella, Iowa on 7th March 2018 to a pair of employees at Central College, Eliza’s early life would not be too exceptional compared to a great many others. While an EF3 tornado did move through the city on July 19 of that same year, the Vulsen family would be fortunate to be among those uninjured, though they would be left homeless following the event. Luckily, they would stay with relatives in nearby Des Moines while Pella rebuilt, her parents taking the long commute down to the college. As such, she spent a good deal of time with her aunt and uncle, playing games here and there, reading from an early age, and things of that sort. Tireless as most children were, always searching and searching for a new thing to entertain her, to grab her attention, it was common to see Eliza listening to music, watching a movie, and putting together a puzzle at the same time. From a very young age, as they had started the reading almost too early, it was discovered that Eliza had dyslexia. Eventually, though, she started school.

      As expected, school was difficult for young Eliza. She had trouble in reading and, by extension, English in general, would prove to be a handful through math and science, and would really only settle down during P.E. and some portions of the basic physics. She had issues in fights as well, both seeming to come out of nowhere as well as, at times, because of her reclusive, self-isolative nature. While the other kids felt little compulsion to bully due to her dyslexia, Eliza felt less simply by the additional difficulty, by the joy and ease they had in reading and writing, and would often distance herself from them. Such fights were initially simple scuffs, though would grow into cuts, gouges, and similar injuries. Alarmed by the injuries, concerned by the lack of school intervention, and less than amused by Eliza’s wild descriptions of her assaulters in light of the injuries, she would soon be pulled from school for the great joys of homeschooling. While Eliza’s uncle was no educator, her aunt was a retired teacher who had time on her hands. Her parents fully supported the decision and, soon enough, Eliza would stop going to public school at age 9, from the fourth grade onwards.

      Some years later, issues began to arise at random intervals starting with the water being poisoned by lead before heaters began to explode randomly. Even as Eliza began to become more and more interested in the mechanics of objects and how they worked in conjunction, as she took apart and put back together most things not covered by a warranty in the house, devices just continued to malfunction or straight-out destroy themselves catastrophically. The combination of events would lead to her aunt and uncle blaming Eliza for the mishaps about the house and though she stopped her experimentation the issues continued and the couple were reluctant to believe the child that she had actually stopped. This would culminate in Eliza being electrocuted while making ramen with the microwave and summarily going to the hospital for a checkup to ensure that a heart murmur had not resulted. When released, her aunt and uncle were recommended a camp for “troubled children” through the school system and, while they were loathe to label Eliza as that, the representative mainly focused on emphasizing the camp’s capabilities in helping kids with ADHD and dyslexia, the programs it offered seeming perfectly suited for a child like Eliza, as well as subtly highlighting the disconnected nature of the camp in regards to electronics, machines, and other such things that seemed to detonate. The fact that it was extremely cheap and would be tax-deductable helped as well.

      At age eleven, Eliza was sent off to the distant, out-of-state camp. There, on entry, a flaming hammer appeared over here head and she was near-immediately mobbed by a group of large, built people. The news that mythology was real, demigods existed, and that she was one of them was surprising, amazing, and altogether nearly terrifying, though the first few talks with Charon greatly served to ease the young girl’s fears. He highlighted the benefits of the camp in harnessing her potential, the training helping her survive in a world of monsters that would like nothing better than to set their own fears at ease by killing the demigods causing such things, as well as the wonders that awaited her now. Eliza was taken in by all this, though the inevitable question of what her aunt and uncle would think would arise. The fact that it had to remain a secret, both for her safety and theirs, would be understood on both sides with the solution coming from magic in wiping their memories, as well as the memories of those at school. She simply ceased existed for them. It was an imperfect solution, but of course it was understood that such things didn’t quite exist. The last thing to complete her entry would be the removal of a curse placed by forces unknown, bad luck in regards to machines which had followed her for far too long.

      She spent the first few months at the camp, which she refused to call by it’s name as ELiza saw it somewhat to be a bad name, getting to know the layout, all the things everyone did or could do, the history behind things here and there. Eliza talked to the dryads, nymphs, and satyrs, interrogating a good few in finding out their histories and relations and, even, in striking up a few friendships. She spent a good amount of time at nearly every cabin, even making an offering at Hera’s for charity’s sake, something which came as little surprise considering her lack of knowledge about most things Greek or mythological. As a daughter of Hephaestus, she spent more than enough time at that cabin as well, living there in a nearly frugal sense for the first while as Eliza slowly became more comfortable with her surroundings, with the people about her. She found the other Campers to be welcoming, the environment fascinating, and soon took to tinkering alongside them. Building automatons was a task Eliza found to be more than rewarding, calming in comparison to the rest, a repetition with intricate, careful details, and soon enough had a small army of pets to keep her company, follow her about, and fill her pockets. The training would be less than welcome, combat and blade-work coming to her far more naturally than to a normal mortal yet far slower compared to any other Camper, though she made up for such shortcomings with an abundance of energy. Eventually, she would find her stride with the heavier weaponry and armor, eschewing normal standards for most Campers by wearing full late medieval plate mail and wielding a voulge. While such a thing violated most traditional rules, it violated no real rulings and, thus, was never exactly banned in the competitions.

      As Eliza grew older, she began to make more friends about the camp, began to become an authority on some things. The fact that the lady took pity on many of the unclaimed Campers would lead to her often offering them a place to stay at the Hephaestus cabin if they didn’t like Hermes or the people there, that there would always be a place to stay there, and though initially there wasn’t enough room she would soon enough make it fit with the donation of her “private” room, the installation of a nearby ladder down to it, as well as a good number of bunkbeds. Whatever slight complaints levied by the other Hephaestus kids would be quickly dismissed by Eliza, saying that their father surely would not refuse to adopt a few kids left behind by his negligent brothers and sisters. Such feelings and actions would rapidly ensure a reputation as a mother figure, even though Eliza was hardly at all older than many of the others, though it was a role she somewhat embraced even if the nickname was often no more than a joke. In time, she began to help the Cabin Counselor, one Carl Thatcher, with his own duties about the camp and cabin, in part due to his own plans and intents making him extremely busy getting ready for college. After a year of this, he would abdicate the position, leading to Eliza becoming the Counselor.

      Since then, she has continued the practice of allowing unclaimed Campers stay at the Hephaestus cabin if they so wish, as well as beginning informal tutoring and classes for any with a mechanical aptitude or a want to dabble in such things. Eliza has also begun several projects in conjunction with other cabins, to include building a distillery and sill for the Dionysus kids and coordinating the building of some few automatons with the Hecate cabin, seeing them as opportunities to widen her own horizons and learn a bit more about the different arts and crafts in the camp. She’s grown far more familiar with the mythical beings nearby, continuing several close friendships with several nymphs and dryads as well as with some few of the more calm satyrs. It should be noted that, in her years at the camp, Eliza has not left save for a few mundane trips to towns nearby.
RP Sample: Shared Stories

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The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
Minister
 
Posts: 3429
Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Sat Oct 16, 2021 10:40 pm

Rupudska wrote:How much of the series do I need to have read for this? I only have vague recollections of the first two books.


As long as you get the general premise you shouldn't need to read anymore. There might be a reference or two here or there, but other than that it's gonna be just our demigods in the modern world.

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Nations United for Conquest
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5237
Founded: May 06, 2016
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Nations United for Conquest » Sun Oct 17, 2021 10:05 am

CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Ila Gallo
Age: 15
Divine Parentage: Unknown
Appearance:
Image


Known Abilities:
  • Blessing of the Gods [Minor] - To have divine blood in one's veins, increasing all natural and physical abilities above any mortal. Lessened due to Unclaimed Status
  • Battle Sense [Minor] - To posses an instinctive understanding of the flow of battle and surviving combat. Lessened due to Unclaimed Status
  • The Virtuoso [Major] - The innate ability to be extremely competent in a given form of art
  • The Urbane - To be well traveled and posses a wealth of knowledge on different cultures and customs
  • Child of Rome [False*] - To have a deep connection to Rome. Allows for understanding of said culture and history at an instinctual level
  • Child of Athens [True*] - To have a deep connection to Athens and Greece. Allows for understanding of said culture and history at an instinctual level
  • Palpable Presence** [Minor] - The state of possessing a presence with the ability to affect other individuals. Lessened due to Unclaimed Status
Weapons:
  • Aurora Florum - A sword in the style of a Spatha, seemingly coated in Imperial Gold and curiously smelling of flowers
  • Celestial Bronze Dirk - A typical sword of Celestial Bronze, fashioned in the style of a dirk
  • Sling - A simple leather sling complimented with an assortment of Celestial Bronze and Steel "bullets"

Biography: Before we start, I just want to make it clear my dad wasn't a bad father. I know how things may get mixed up in the bureaucracy that you Romans love, but I want this to be on record. Good? Good. My father was, much like me a Demi-god, but I wouldn't learn this until a while after I was born. Before I was born my father had been a successful Philologist. He was mostly focused on the proto-Indo-European languages, and had a soft spot for Latin. Shouldn't have come as a surprise really, given his heritage, but that's besides the point. His work took him all over the world, mostly Europe, exploring ruins and reading up on the latest finding of the Philology world's most famous authors. Apparently he had read a lot of Tolkien as a kid, and after discovering his work in the Philology community and its influences on his works, he became dead set on following in his foot-steps. Dad was a pretty good writer all things considered. He was no Hemingway or Steinbeck, but there was a certain comfort to his writing that drew people in. Had he decided to be a chronicler or write children books I'm sure he would be famous by now. He just had to try his hand at writing trilogies and far reaching stories.

They honestly didn't sell that well. But, teaching at universities across the US and Italy more than made up for those flops of books. I would still read them though when I was old enough to. I don't think he ever really intended to have kids or a family for that matter. It was always work for him. Not in the way of bills needing to be met or he being a workaholic, but in the much simpler sense that he was over devoted to it. It's probably one of the better qualities I inherited from him. For days he would barely eat or drink while working on his next piece or researching some great break through or connection. It only makes sense it'd take a literal Goddess to make him look away from work. He said that he met her in Sicily while on a work trip. She was a writer like he was, and apparently she was site seeing for her next piece. They clicked instantly, or at least that's what he said. I'd like to imagine it was probably more mom having to literally drag him around and kiss him before he even got the barest trace of an idea she was interested. For all the fluffy prose and delicately crafted metaphors and idioms he could conjure, he was hopeless at understanding people in the real world. Especially romance. It's kinda funny thinking about how a Goddess had to be the proactive one in the relationship and make him fall in love. I'm unsure if I should be proud or ashamed of my dad for that one...

Getting off track, I know. I was conceived and born on that same trip. I'm sure that must've been a shock to dad. He always sort of explained it that one day she was just gone, and there I was. He took it surprisingly well, all things considered. Mom was kind enough to leave behind an explanation that she was, infact, a Goddess and some basics for dad when it came to raising a child. A human child. I found the books later, my father the sentimental man he was kept them, and nothing about demi-gods was mentioned in them. Nothing about who my mother was either, which was a bit irking when I was younger, but dad took it in stride. Most of those early years were nice. I was ignorant of being a demi-god and dad was still in good spirits. We traveled all across America and Europe. Went to shows in London, saw art museums in Paris, and great food in Italy. There were a few places we always avoided. We never went to Greece at all, and our stays in New York were always extremely short. After I was born, dad always seemed a little more wary of those places. Around the time I was eight, things had begun to change.

Thinking back on it, it should've been really clear. Dad was spending more time at work than he ever had. He began drinking more than just socially like he had before, and there was that curious bespectacled man who dad always talked to once a week. Whenever he came by there was always a lot of shouting and crying to be heard. One day his editor came by and in hushed tones I could hear the discussion of the tone of his work changing, and not in a positive way. In his sleep dad would mumble on and on about things I never understood. Around his workshop I found scraps of stories; pages ripped, crumpled and heavy with the marks of erasers. They spoke of strange things. Monsters I had heard about only in books and museums, but spoken of with such fervor and realism they couldn't be anything but autobiographical. Or at the very least biographies. Of who, at the time I wasn't sure. But I now know the importance of those names; Jackson, Grace, Chase, etc. Dad had never spoke of knowing such people, and something about the time-frame never quite added up in mind. Doesn't help that Chiron says he never met my dad.

When I was eight, the metaphorical beans were spilled. My father admitted that my mother had not had to leave for work, but was in fact an actual Goddess. A Greek one if his guess was right. What she was doing in Sicily, I don't know. Your guess would be as good as mine. That meant I was a demigod. Others things started to click after that point. The strange things, like the teenagers who'd wave from the trees when we'd tour the country side. The large dog that followed us along an old dirt road in France, the Rugby Players in England who stared down dad and I when we got too close to the field. After that point, things got even worse for dad. His mumbling and strange stories increased. Eventually they reached the point of no longer making sense. Eventually it reached the point that dad became a full on insomniac. Once my grandmother heard of it she became incredibly distressed. She was always a shrewd woman who kept to herself. The only time she ever seemed to loose the feeling of an old, bitter Italian woman was when she found my dad disheveled and shaking in his work study, papers tossed around him crumpled and ripped like a fresh snow fall of failed ideas. She spoke of taking us to visit someone she knew in California. Before that happened though, dad got much worse. He never hit me or anything of the like, but something in his eyes changed. There was an expression in them I couldn't understand. Compassion and dread mixed and swirled in a dance with pity and fatalism. It was a fearful look, and those ever dark eyes of my dad didn't help. It was a few nights after he adopted that expression and the insomnia caught up with him that I first heard the voice. It urged me to run, and something about it was so compelling, I just listened.

And so one night in May I left the studio apartment in Boston where my dad stayed most of the time when he wasn't traveling, and left to follow where the voice directed me. I eventually found myself at a simple hostel in upstate New York. It was run by one 'Aunt Kaylin', and ethereally beautiful woman. In the four years I lived there, never once did she ever seem to age, even with all the stress I and the others must've put her through. Her skin was fair, hair long and always so silky smooth as if finely polished every morning. Always on her face was a smile. The four years I stayed there were among the best. She taught me a lot of things. How to cook, to sing, the names of different plants and animals in the woods. My favorite activity was to watch movies with her. Weird things happened there though. Young kids often frequented the place, as well as strange people. The kids were always banged up like I was. Sometimes they came in small groups, other times they were by themselves. Some carried strange looking swords that would gleam like gold or give off a soft icy blue glow. Always they were varied. Some had beautiful blue eyes and hair which looked to be made of strands of the sun. Others had storms brewing in their deep grey eyes. A few even tried to fight me on sight. While Kaylin cooked and patched them up, I'd sing them songs or listen to their stories. All were varied. Most seemed to be heading to the city, probably to get here to camp. A few were on their way out to California, apparently looking for a wolf of all things. Others were more...varied. But those were outliers.

Things changed one day when I heard the voice call to me once more. It seemed it was finally my turn to head south to camp, or at least that was my guess when I was told to move south. Four years without so much as a peep and now the voice calls out once more. Was a bit annoying, but if it had lead me to Kaylin, than perhaps i was worth listening to again. The trip was fairly uneventful. A few hellhounds seemed to stalk me, but never did much until I reached this big botanical garden. I had been with my dad a long time ago on one of our rare trip to the City. I figured I'd be able to loose the pack easily, but I found myself cornered in one of the gardens. I had a small knife I had gotten from Kaylin, but I knew it probably wouldn't be enough. I felt a weird feeling swirling around in my stomach, and nearly collapsed from the pain. I'm pretty sure I even blacked out for a few seconds. I say probably cause when I opened my eyes again, the scenery had changed. The bushes had rearranged and a hedge-work of roses and laurels had given way to a sword, sheathed and tangled in a fine web of vines. It looked old and there was a heavy spiderweb of growth about it, as if it had been left there for sometime. Regardless I was thankful for whoever had left such a sword, since the Hellhounds seemed much more interesting in the sword, having backed off and bristling their fangs at it from a distance. Not wanting to loose advantage I grabbed the sword, which came out from its earthy prison surprisingly easily, and got out of there like a bat out of hell. Give or take a few days on the run, and next thing I know I'm running straight into you guys a few weeks ago.

Now with that taken care of, can I go back to my cabin Optio Thomson? I need to get ready for lunch.

RP Sample: See previous app

* Ila is a Greek Demigod, but due to the nature of her Godly Parent, she is able to innately understand both the Greek and Roman parts of the pantheon. Sort of like how Percy was able to adapt to Latin and all of that in Lost Hero. Except Ila is predisposed to knowing both just like she was born a Roman Demigod, despite being Greek.

** Ila gives off a presence that is only noticeable [at present] to those predisposed to understanding auras or those attune to the forces of nature and magic. Kids or Legacies of Hecate, Hades, Hypnos, and/or other Gods and Goddess that deal with magic or related domains to the aforementioned will be able to detect a slight feeling given off by Ila which mostly manifests as feeling skittish or "off" around her.
Last edited by Nations United for Conquest on Sun Oct 17, 2021 11:27 am, edited 2 times in total.
National Information
Leader - Prime Minister Alaro Kuhn
Capital - Gesno
Population - 325,581,223
Currency - Krot ($)
Roleplay Information
OP Gatelord - [OOC]
The Coming Storm - PLANNED
TBA FE RP - PLANNED

THE DEMOCRATIC SOCIALIST REPUBLIC OF OSKANO
COBALT NETWORK MEMBER
Est. 1663

User avatar
Theyra
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5691
Founded: Aug 29, 2015
Democratic Socialists

Postby Theyra » Sun Oct 17, 2021 10:12 am

CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Zane Blacklight
Age: 16
Divine Parentage: Hecate
Appearance: Zane

Known Abilities: Demigod Physiology
Mist control - Zane, like his mother, he can control the Mist. Able to manipulation it to make illusions to trick monsters. Along with using it to hide things such as times people and other beings from others. Even able to disguise people and items if needed using the mist. Plus, being able to manipulate mortals' memories and to summon Mistforms of various objects Though Zane is hesitant to use some of this power unless necessary.

Telekinesis via magic - The first thing he learned with magic, Zane is able to move objects and even people. Even able to levitate them off the ground for a time. Depending on how magic he uses and the heavy the target, the more magic he uses. So he can not lift up everything.

Limited Necromancy - Due to his mother's status of being the goddess of necromancy, Zane has limited power over the dead. Able to sense the presence of ghosts, sense death, telepathically speak to ghosts and, release ghosts to the afterlife.

Limited Umbrakinesis - The last of the power inherited from his mother. Zane can control darkness mainly by making shields and barriers out of pure darkness. He also knows the art of shadow travel that he can use to travel medium distances. Though it takes stamina from him, the longer he travels and can hurt him if used too much. Also, not as strong as the children of Hades in this.

Weapons: A collapsible staff made of celestial bronze that Zane uses to help focus his magic and uses as a weapon. A gift from his mother.
A sword that he had commissioned by a Hephaestus demigod.

Biography: Born a twin with his sister Helen. His father Nathan who worked as a professor at the local University of Maine. Growing up Nathan was active in his children's life when he could. Unlike Zane's mother who was absent and Zane and Helen would ask questions about their mother. Only Nathan was closed-lip about it, only saying he will talk about her when they are ready. Not really understanding why his father chose to wait to tell them about his mother. Regardless the Blacklight family was close, and Zane seemed content with things.

It was when Zane become thirteen that things changed for him and his family. When he was at school and was being bullied while in the restroom, the bullies would corner him in his stall but were unable to open it. Leaving Zane trapped inside and while the bullies kept on waiting for him to come out and kept saying bad stuff about him. Zane just kept thinking to himself that he was not there in a vain attempt to reassure himself that he could get out without getting the bullies ganging upon him. It was here that the bullies suddenly stopped, and one of them said that Zane was not there. Leaving, and it would take some time before Zane ventured out to make sure that they were gone. Which they were, that was oddly good for him, he thought. He would tell his father of this, and Zane could see the gears moving in his father's head. Something was up, and it was only when Helen accidentally used magic while she and Zane were playing. Did his father realized what was happening and knew now was the time to tell them about their mother.

Zane's father did not tell everything at first. In order to not overwhelm his children about the nature and identity of their mother. Something that Zane at first did not fully believe what his father said while Helen only grew more curious about Hecate. Wanting to meet her, and Helen would get her wish when their father brought them to Camp Half-Blood. There the twins would be claimed by their mother, and it was an eye-opening experience for him. Finally getting some time to meet and talk with his mother. The twins were overjoyed and would receive some lessons on how to use their magic so they could control it. Both of them took to magic quickly and would often spar with each other to help the other grow stronger.

At this point, Zane and Helen had opted to stay at the camp during the summer. So they could try to live normal lives the best they could. Which well worked for three years up to when Zane and his family were returning from a vacation from New York City. A group of monsters ambushed them, and despite Zane's best efforts of defending his family. Both Helen and his father were killed before the last of the monsters was killed. Devastated by the loss of his family and seeing how he or anyone around him is not truly safe. He broke up with his girlfriend and headed back to Camp HalfBlood. Staying there full time and training himself and getting better at his powers. Hoping to avoid another instance of losing either family or someone close to them again.

RP Sample: ACES: SUPERNATURAL COUNTER-TERROR OPS

User avatar
Piscina
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 200
Founded: Aug 20, 2019
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Piscina » Sun Oct 17, 2021 4:16 pm

Tag! I've got an exam this week, but I might make a character once that's done.
Last edited by Piscina on Sun Oct 17, 2021 4:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Voluisse Illudere (Intrigue in court(Discontinued))
Audax Veni (Galactic Adventures(Discontinued))
Hector Driscoll (Model Hogwarts(Active, Hosted on Discord))
Lachriman Federation (The Last Stars(Discontinued))
Hermes R&D (SPACE(Didn’t actually make any IC posts))
Edward Dale (College Greymore(Discontinued))
Ceres Federation (Remnants of Sol(RP didn’t get off the ground))
Zik’ky’ken (Twilight of the Republic(Didn’t actually make any IC posts))
Edward Dale 2.0 (College Greymore reboot(RP didn't get off the ground))
Scriniarii (Pantheon: New Creation(Active))


My participation in most RPs tends to be short-lived, so I have less experience than the number of them listed would otherwise indicate.

User avatar
The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
Minister
 
Posts: 3429
Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Sun Oct 17, 2021 6:22 pm

Nations United for Conquest wrote:
CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Ila Gallo
Age: 15
Divine Parentage: Unknown
Appearance:

Known Abilities:
  • Blessing of the Gods [Minor] - To have divine blood in one's veins, increasing all natural and physical abilities above any mortal. Lessened due to Unclaimed Status
  • Battle Sense [Minor] - To posses an instinctive understanding of the flow of battle and surviving combat. Lessened due to Unclaimed Status
  • The Virtuoso [Major] - The innate ability to be extremely competent in a given form of art
  • The Urbane - To be well traveled and posses a wealth of knowledge on different cultures and customs
  • Child of Rome [False*] - To have a deep connection to Rome. Allows for understanding of said culture and history at an instinctual level
  • Child of Athens [True*] - To have a deep connection to Athens and Greece. Allows for understanding of said culture and history at an instinctual level
  • Palpable Presence** [Minor] - The state of possessing a presence with the ability to affect other individuals. Lessened due to Unclaimed Status
Weapons:
  • Aurora Florum - A sword in the style of a Spatha, seemingly coated in Imperial Gold and curiously smelling of flowers
  • Celestial Bronze Dirk - A typical sword of Celestial Bronze, fashioned in the style of a dirk
  • Sling - A simple leather sling complimented with an assortment of Celestial Bronze and Steel "bullets"

Biography: Before we start, I just want to make it clear my dad wasn't a bad father. I know how things may get mixed up in the bureaucracy that you Romans love, but I want this to be on record. Good? Good. My father was, much like me a Demi-god, but I wouldn't learn this until a while after I was born. Before I was born my father had been a successful Philologist. He was mostly focused on the proto-Indo-European languages, and had a soft spot for Latin. Shouldn't have come as a surprise really, given his heritage, but that's besides the point. His work took him all over the world, mostly Europe, exploring ruins and reading up on the latest finding of the Philology world's most famous authors. Apparently he had read a lot of Tolkien as a kid, and after discovering his work in the Philology community and its influences on his works, he became dead set on following in his foot-steps. Dad was a pretty good writer all things considered. He was no Hemingway or Steinbeck, but there was a certain comfort to his writing that drew people in. Had he decided to be a chronicler or write children books I'm sure he would be famous by now. He just had to try his hand at writing trilogies and far reaching stories.

They honestly didn't sell that well. But, teaching at universities across the US and Italy more than made up for those flops of books. I would still read them though when I was old enough to. I don't think he ever really intended to have kids or a family for that matter. It was always work for him. Not in the way of bills needing to be met or he being a workaholic, but in the much simpler sense that he was over devoted to it. It's probably one of the better qualities I inherited from him. For days he would barely eat or drink while working on his next piece or researching some great break through or connection. It only makes sense it'd take a literal Goddess to make him look away from work. He said that he met her in Sicily while on a work trip. She was a writer like he was, and apparently she was site seeing for her next piece. They clicked instantly, or at least that's what he said. I'd like to imagine it was probably more mom having to literally drag him around and kiss him before he even got the barest trace of an idea she was interested. For all the fluffy prose and delicately crafted metaphors and idioms he could conjure, he was hopeless at understanding people in the real world. Especially romance. It's kinda funny thinking about how a Goddess had to be the proactive one in the relationship and make him fall in love. I'm unsure if I should be proud or ashamed of my dad for that one...

Getting off track, I know. I was conceived and born on that same trip. I'm sure that must've been a shock to dad. He always sort of explained it that one day she was just gone, and there I was. He took it surprisingly well, all things considered. Mom was kind enough to leave behind an explanation that she was, infact, a Goddess and some basics for dad when it came to raising a child. A human child. I found the books later, my father the sentimental man he was kept them, and nothing about demi-gods was mentioned in them. Nothing about who my mother was either, which was a bit irking when I was younger, but dad took it in stride. Most of those early years were nice. I was ignorant of being a demi-god and dad was still in good spirits. We traveled all across America and Europe. Went to shows in London, saw art museums in Paris, and great food in Italy. There were a few places we always avoided. We never went to Greece at all, and our stays in New York were always extremely short. After I was born, dad always seemed a little more wary of those places. Around the time I was eight, things had begun to change.

Thinking back on it, it should've been really clear. Dad was spending more time at work than he ever had. He began drinking more than just socially like he had before, and there was that curious bespectacled man who dad always talked to once a week. Whenever he came by there was always a lot of shouting and crying to be heard. One day his editor came by and in hushed tones I could hear the discussion of the tone of his work changing, and not in a positive way. In his sleep dad would mumble on and on about things I never understood. Around his workshop I found scraps of stories; pages ripped, crumpled and heavy with the marks of erasers. They spoke of strange things. Monsters I had heard about only in books and museums, but spoken of with such fervor and realism they couldn't be anything but autobiographical. Or at the very least biographies. Of who, at the time I wasn't sure. But I now know the importance of those names; Jackson, Grace, Chase, etc. Dad had never spoke of knowing such people, and something about the time-frame never quite added up in mind. Doesn't help that Chiron says he never met my dad.

When I was eight, the metaphorical beans were spilled. My father admitted that my mother had not had to leave for work, but was in fact an actual Goddess. A Greek one if his guess was right. What she was doing in Sicily, I don't know. Your guess would be as good as mine. That meant I was a demigod. Others things started to click after that point. The strange things, like the teenagers who'd wave from the trees when we'd tour the country side. The large dog that followed us along an old dirt road in France, the Rugby Players in England who stared down dad and I when we got too close to the field. After that point, things got even worse for dad. His mumbling and strange stories increased. Eventually they reached the point of no longer making sense. Eventually it reached the point that dad became a full on insomniac. Once my grandmother heard of it she became incredibly distressed. She was always a shrewd woman who kept to herself. The only time she ever seemed to loose the feeling of an old, bitter Italian woman was when she found my dad disheveled and shaking in his work study, papers tossed around him crumpled and ripped like a fresh snow fall of failed ideas. She spoke of taking us to visit someone she knew in California. Before that happened though, dad got much worse. He never hit me or anything of the like, but something in his eyes changed. There was an expression in them I couldn't understand. Compassion and dread mixed and swirled in a dance with pity and fatalism. It was a fearful look, and those ever dark eyes of my dad didn't help. It was a few nights after he adopted that expression and the insomnia caught up with him that I first heard the voice. It urged me to run, and something about it was so compelling, I just listened.

And so one night in May I left the studio apartment in Boston where my dad stayed most of the time when he wasn't traveling, and left to follow where the voice directed me. I eventually found myself at a simple hostel in upstate New York. It was run by one 'Aunt Kaylin', and ethereally beautiful woman. In the four years I lived there, never once did she ever seem to age, even with all the stress I and the others must've put her through. Her skin was fair, hair long and always so silky smooth as if finely polished every morning. Always on her face was a smile. The four years I stayed there were among the best. She taught me a lot of things. How to cook, to sing, the names of different plants and animals in the woods. My favorite activity was to watch movies with her. Weird things happened there though. Young kids often frequented the place, as well as strange people. The kids were always banged up like I was. Sometimes they came in small groups, other times they were by themselves. Some carried strange looking swords that would gleam like gold or give off a soft icy blue glow. Always they were varied. Some had beautiful blue eyes and hair which looked to be made of strands of the sun. Others had storms brewing in their deep grey eyes. A few even tried to fight me on sight. While Kaylin cooked and patched them up, I'd sing them songs or listen to their stories. All were varied. Most seemed to be heading to the city, probably to get here to camp. A few were on their way out to California, apparently looking for a wolf of all things. Others were more...varied. But those were outliers.

Things changed one day when I heard the voice call to me once more. It seemed it was finally my turn to head south to camp, or at least that was my guess when I was told to move south. Four years without so much as a peep and now the voice calls out once more. Was a bit annoying, but if it had lead me to Kaylin, than perhaps i was worth listening to again. The trip was fairly uneventful. A few hellhounds seemed to stalk me, but never did much until I reached this big botanical garden. I had been with my dad a long time ago on one of our rare trip to the City. I figured I'd be able to loose the pack easily, but I found myself cornered in one of the gardens. I had a small knife I had gotten from Kaylin, but I knew it probably wouldn't be enough. I felt a weird feeling swirling around in my stomach, and nearly collapsed from the pain. I'm pretty sure I even blacked out for a few seconds. I say probably cause when I opened my eyes again, the scenery had changed. The bushes had rearranged and a hedge-work of roses and laurels had given way to a sword, sheathed and tangled in a fine web of vines. It looked old and there was a heavy spiderweb of growth about it, as if it had been left there for sometime. Regardless I was thankful for whoever had left such a sword, since the Hellhounds seemed much more interesting in the sword, having backed off and bristling their fangs at it from a distance. Not wanting to loose advantage I grabbed the sword, which came out from its earthy prison surprisingly easily, and got out of there like a bat out of hell. Give or take a few days on the run, and next thing I know I'm running straight into you guys a few weeks ago.

Now with that taken care of, can I go back to my cabin Optio Thomson? I need to get ready for lunch.

RP Sample: See previous app

* Ila is a Greek Demigod, but due to the nature of her Godly Parent, she is able to innately understand both the Greek and Roman parts of the pantheon. Sort of like how Percy was able to adapt to Latin and all of that in Lost Hero. Except Ila is predisposed to knowing both just like she was born a Roman Demigod, despite being Greek.

** Ila gives off a presence that is only noticeable [at present] to those predisposed to understanding auras or those attune to the forces of nature and magic. Kids or Legacies of Hecate, Hades, Hypnos, and/or other Gods and Goddess that deal with magic or related domains to the aforementioned will be able to detect a slight feeling given off by Ila which mostly manifests as feeling skittish or "off" around her.


Looks good, accepted

Theyra wrote:
CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Zane Blacklight


Also looks good, accepted

Piscina wrote:Tag! I've got an exam this week, but I might make a character once that's done.


Awesome to hear!

User avatar
Nations United for Conquest
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5237
Founded: May 06, 2016
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Nations United for Conquest » Sun Oct 17, 2021 8:21 pm

Nice. Interested to see how interactions between Zane and Ila might go given her disposition.


So do the Romans have a designated area in Camp Half-Blood for them, like a "Little Rome" or is it more of a temporary, military style area for them while they're there on possible security or training missions? I'm doubtful they'd bunk with their Greek counter-parts in their cabins.

Also, OP, not sure if it was an accident or not, but you missed Ormata's app a few posts up.
National Information
Leader - Prime Minister Alaro Kuhn
Capital - Gesno
Population - 325,581,223
Currency - Krot ($)
Roleplay Information
OP Gatelord - [OOC]
The Coming Storm - PLANNED
TBA FE RP - PLANNED

THE DEMOCRATIC SOCIALIST REPUBLIC OF OSKANO
COBALT NETWORK MEMBER
Est. 1663

User avatar
The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
Minister
 
Posts: 3429
Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Sun Oct 17, 2021 10:27 pm

Ormata wrote:[box]
CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM
[floatright][Camper Name: Eliza “Mama” Vulsen


Sorry for missing this, accepted!

Nations United for Conquest wrote:So do the Romans have a designated area in Camp Half-Blood for them, like a "Little Rome" or is it more of a temporary, military style area for them while they're there on possible security or training missions? I'm doubtful they'd bunk with their Greek counter-parts in their cabins.


I imagine it has to do with the Romans in question. Those officially with the Legion likely set up their own camp on the grounds, while Romans attending camp as campers probably stay in the cabins.

User avatar
Nations United for Conquest
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5237
Founded: May 06, 2016
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Nations United for Conquest » Mon Oct 18, 2021 7:26 am

The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune wrote:
Nations United for Conquest wrote:So do the Romans have a designated area in Camp Half-Blood for them, like a "Little Rome" or is it more of a temporary, military style area for them while they're there on possible security or training missions? I'm doubtful they'd bunk with their Greek counter-parts in their cabins.


I imagine it has to do with the Romans in question. Those officially with the Legion likely set up their own camp on the grounds, while Romans attending camp as campers probably stay in the cabins.


Hmm, interesting. Guess that means Alec is going to be staying and running a small little encampment. Probably in the North-Eastern corner of Camp or where ever there's suitable open ground.
National Information
Leader - Prime Minister Alaro Kuhn
Capital - Gesno
Population - 325,581,223
Currency - Krot ($)
Roleplay Information
OP Gatelord - [OOC]
The Coming Storm - PLANNED
TBA FE RP - PLANNED

THE DEMOCRATIC SOCIALIST REPUBLIC OF OSKANO
COBALT NETWORK MEMBER
Est. 1663

User avatar
Skylus
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6486
Founded: Oct 25, 2016
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Skylus » Mon Oct 18, 2021 9:14 pm

CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Elliot Franklin Anderson
Age: 16
Divine Parentage: Unknown
Appearance: Tall and lanky (5’7) with green eyes and long honey blonde hair

Known Abilities:
Expertise in weaponry: can master most weapons fairly quickly
Metalworking: has knowledge of metalworking and can make various weapons from scratch if provided with the basic materials

Weapons: A sword that was given to him by his grandfather. It’s abilities are not quite known as of now.

Biography: Elliot was born to British immigrants who both worked in a bakery making food and sweets. His childhood was more or less ordinary, save for when he turned 13. His dad began receiving calls and he had to leave for weeks at a time. Elliot began to take an interest in weapons and metalworking, finding out that he had a gifted knack for making weapons. One day, when he was 15, Elliot’s dad and mother woke him up and told him to grab his most valuable possession, which was a sword given to him by his grandfather (dad’s side) and leave his childhood home. Monsters attacked soon after and Elliot was the only one who escaped. Elliot has been wandering every since, never staying in one place for very long.

RP Sample: Hogwarts
Last edited by Skylus on Mon Oct 18, 2021 9:19 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Proud Member of OCReMix.org and Pixel Mixers
Like to draw, play piano, play video games.
YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/user/mericalgirl1234
To avoid confusion on forums - I am female
VTtM: Madison Goodwill, Link (WW), Amaterasu, Alt. Future Link, Link (TP), Link (BotW) (I’m a Zelda fan okay)
Hogwarts: Derek Forester, Madison Goodwill

Love this site it is awesome, no I am not changing my flag because it is amazing.

User avatar
The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
Minister
 
Posts: 3429
Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Mon Oct 18, 2021 9:23 pm

Skylus wrote:
CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Elliot Franklin Anderson
Age: 16
Divine Parentage: Unknown
Appearance: Tall and lanky (5’7) with green eyes and long honey blonde hair

Known Abilities:
Expertise in weaponry: can master most weapons fairly quickly
Metalworking: has knowledge of metalworking and can make various weapons from scratch if provided with the basic materials

Weapons: A sword that was given to him by his grandfather. It’s abilities are not quite known as of now.

Biography: Elliot was born to British immigrants who both worked in a bakery making food and sweets. His childhood was more or less ordinary, save for when he turned 13. His dad began receiving calls and he had to leave for weeks at a time. Elliot began to take an interest in weapons and metalworking, finding out that he had a gifted knack for making weapons. One day, when he was 15, Elliot’s dad and mother woke him up and told him to grab his most valuable possession, which was a sword given to him by his grandfather (dad’s side) and leave his childhood home. Monsters attacked soon after and Elliot was the only one who escaped. Elliot has been wandering every since, never staying in one place for very long.

RP Sample: Hogwarts


Right so this is going to need some work. Any sword that he has would have it's properties known at least as far as being something that can damage monsters. If he's a demigod he would have been attacked by monsters way sooner, especially with abilities such as his. I'm assuming that one of his parents isn't his real parent, because otherwise he would be a legacy and likely would have known the world of greek mythology much sooner as either his dad or his mom would have been attracting a load of monsters simply due to being a demigod that old, but I'm also going to assume that they aren't demigods because they are recent british immigrants, and the gods have been a one country show for a bit now.

User avatar
Skylus
Negotiator
 
Posts: 6486
Founded: Oct 25, 2016
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Skylus » Tue Oct 19, 2021 6:02 am

CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Elliot Franklin Anderson
Age: 16
Divine Parentage: Unknown
Appearance: Tall and lanky (5’7) with green eyes and long honey blonde hair

Known Abilities:
Expertise in weaponry: can master most weapons fairly quickly
Metalworking: has knowledge of metalworking and can make various weapons from scratch if provided with the basic materials

Weapons: A sword that was given to him by his grandfather. It’s abilities are not quite known as of now, except that it can damage monsters.

Biography: Elliot was born to half British immigrants (his mom) who both worked in a bakery making food and sweets. His childhood was more or less ordinary, save for when he turned 11. His dad began receiving calls and he had to leave for weeks at a time (later on he learned that this was because his dad was a demigod). Elliot began to take an interest in weapons and metalworking, finding out that he had a gifted knack for making weapons. One day, when he was 13, Elliot’s dad and mother woke him up and told him to grab his most valuable possession, which was a sword given to him by his grandfather (dad’s side) and leave his childhood home. Monsters attacked soon after and Elliot was the only one who escaped. Elliot has been wandering every since, never staying in one place for very long.

RP Sample: Hogwarts
Proud Member of OCReMix.org and Pixel Mixers
Like to draw, play piano, play video games.
YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/user/mericalgirl1234
To avoid confusion on forums - I am female
VTtM: Madison Goodwill, Link (WW), Amaterasu, Alt. Future Link, Link (TP), Link (BotW) (I’m a Zelda fan okay)
Hogwarts: Derek Forester, Madison Goodwill

Love this site it is awesome, no I am not changing my flag because it is amazing.

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The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
Minister
 
Posts: 3429
Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Tue Oct 19, 2021 1:50 pm

Skylus wrote:
CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Elliot Franklin Anderson
Age: 16
Divine Parentage: Unknown
Appearance: Tall and lanky (5’7) with green eyes and long honey blonde hair

Known Abilities:
Expertise in weaponry: can master most weapons fairly quickly
Metalworking: has knowledge of metalworking and can make various weapons from scratch if provided with the basic materials

Weapons: A sword that was given to him by his grandfather. It’s abilities are not quite known as of now, except that it can damage monsters.

Biography: Elliot was born to half British immigrants (his mom) who both worked in a bakery making food and sweets. His childhood was more or less ordinary, save for when he turned 11. His dad began receiving calls and he had to leave for weeks at a time (later on he learned that this was because his dad was a demigod). Elliot began to take an interest in weapons and metalworking, finding out that he had a gifted knack for making weapons. One day, when he was 13, Elliot’s dad and mother woke him up and told him to grab his most valuable possession, which was a sword given to him by his grandfather (dad’s side) and leave his childhood home. Monsters attacked soon after and Elliot was the only one who escaped. Elliot has been wandering every since, never staying in one place for very long.

RP Sample: Hogwarts


Alright, this looks a bit better. However, since this clearly isn't in the typical vein for a PJO character I'm going to ask that you TG me the parts of Elliot's backstory that are not in this app because I will need to know what exactly is going on with him, because it's not exactly clear.

User avatar
Margaux
Civil Servant
 
Posts: 8
Founded: Apr 20, 2020
Corporate Police State

Postby Margaux » Tue Oct 19, 2021 9:55 pm

CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Roman Dickerson
Age: 14

Divine Parentage: Unknown

Appearance: Roman stands at about 6’0. He has an athletic build, and is slightly tan. Enough to see he goes outside, but not enough to see he is partially pale. He has dark brown hair and shocking cool blue eyes. He is not overly bulky, but slim and lean. His hair is cut very short, almost a military buzz cut.

Known Abilities:
Demigod Physiology: He is stronger than most people, and is way faster in reaction time and flat speed. With the genetics from his father, and possibly his mother. He is extremely talented in sports, and with him being a Demigod. Especially in running, throughout his life he dabbled in long distance and sprinting. He also can read and speak fluent ancient Greek.

Weapons: None.

Biography:
Roman was born on a cold and bitter December morning. Or so his father told him. His father being an American Olympic athlete, Daniel Dickerson , almost always being gone or busy with his fame. Roman never knew his mother, and his father never spoke of her. Although he was never hungry nor homeless. With his father being an Olympic gold medalist. He lived in many places bouncing around the American continent. Never staying for long and always switching schools. Except when he turned about 10 years old. Finally, his father retired from athletics, and settled down.

Once he started schooling, he never really understood much of it. He could never sit still in class, always trying to be on the move, or doing something. And with him being dyslexic, he couldn't stand the constant words in front of him. And when it was found out he had ADHD. He was put into more appropriate classes. And because of his fathers wealth and fame, he could afford a good school for him. Even with his educational difficulties.

One of the first things his father did, was push Roman into sports. He always thought it was to keep him moving, and try to deal with his problems. And to make him just like his father. But, he didn't mind, he found he was very good at the sports he played. And he always had a fierce drive to win, at any cost. And once he started running Track & Field and playing football. He felt he found his calling. Always winning and improving in every sport he did. He was the fastest runner in sprinting and long distance, and he led his football team in every game. During his next 3 years, he was noticed across the state as being a great athlete. Medals covered his walls, and awards covered his shelves. He loved to win, and he did everything he could to achieve it.

During his final year in middle school, stranger and stranger things happened. Newer kids began appearing in school, they attacked him. But, either by luck or by skill he always slipped away from them. And when he told the school officials they just ignored him. And thought he was looking for attention, blaming his father for being a bad influence. It went on for another year before something bad happened.

He just finished up practice for the day, and was on his way home. (Because, of his constant drive to win, he did not have many friends. He didn't understand the social aspect of life.) When he arrived home, he pushed open the door, and froze. Something did not feel right. He walked further into the house. He saw the place was trashed and blood was splattered all over the ground. He slowly walked toward his fathers office, seeing the blood trail led toward it. The door was slightly open. He looked to see his father laying propped against the wall, a strange weapon in his hand.

His father flicked his eyes toward him, and told him to run. And that is what Roman did, with a sense of urgency he never felt before. He ran, and just kept running. Later in the news he would see, his house burned down mysteriously and his fathers remains were supposedly found. And his face was plastered all over the page as well, reporting him missing. Then for about half a year, he would be chased, and hunted. He learned through harsh lessons about fighting and running.

He lived and slept in the streets and alleys. He did everything he could to survive. Including fighting with the other homeless people. He always "succeeded" in any of the fights he decided to engage. He either won or escaped before he was killed. And that was victory enough for him. He had seen many things just slipping through the streets. More of the strange monsters, and how they walked the streets with the average people. Sometimes he saw other people fighting with his demons. But, he never approached, always staying away.

One day, he awoke to someone standing over him. Usually, he woke long before anyone got this close. He noticed the person held a strange weapon in his hand. He had seen the type of weapon before, when he found his father that fateful day. He quickly stood and backed away. The person did not seem to be a threat, as none of his senses were giving him their usual warnings.

The person then spoke, she spoke slowly almost trying to sooth a spooked animal. The woman explained everything he went through the past months. The monsters, the strange happenings. Everything. And then she spoke of a place where he would be safe and protected from the attacks. Where he could learn to defend and fight these monsters. He thought of everything he did to make it here, and then nodded his head....

RP Sample: Aegis Act I
Or
Sgt. Fenrir "Czar" Romanov
Unknown Location

Fenrir sits, his LMG leaning against his leg. He watches the horizon as the sun sets. His patrol is camped on the outskirts of the barren border. His nine man team is dispersed, some cleaning their weapons quickly. Or acting as guards, watching the camps surroundings.

He slips his pack off his back and stands. He quickly looks over his soldiers, making sure everyone is present and alive. They have been camped here for almost two days. Their unit was supposed to keep a loose eye on the border. In his opinion it was more like a suicide mission. Nine men on the whole border. He just shakes his head.

So far they have seen nothing, but sand and various locals coming and going. A few suspicious character were spotted on the first day, but they decided to let them go. Nothing to go out and seek them for. Fenrir stops next to one of the soldiers.

"Phil, see anything?"

"Nothing but sand, sir."

Fenrir nods, and stretches. Stiff muscles and bones, shifting and cracking.

"Sir? Do you know when we are returning to base?"

He stops and flicks his gaze at the man.

"You know as much as I, Private Philmore. For some reason the commander thought, why not send our unit to sit on a dusty border. And collect sand in their boots."

"Then why don't we return to base, then?"

He points a thumb over his shoulder.

"How Private? We could walk back, yes. But, that is a 20 mile trek. Easily doable without the packs and the blazing heat during the day. And we don't disobey orders. We will wait here until our ride returns. Understood?"

The private ducks his head. Fenrir walks back to where his pack is. He again does a quick check of his soldiers, and then checks if their camp is secured. He checks their ammo crates, supply boxes, and radio. When he was first introduced to the mission, he made sure to check the supplies. And he deduced they would be gone for about a week and a half. Could be extended to about three weeks if they needed too. The radio was a bit odd, but in the middle of the desert he doubted much else would work.

They made a small camp a top a sandy hill, with a few bushes and small trees for cover. A few medium sized rocks were sitting amongst the camp. They could see for miles around, if they had anything to look at.

Fenrir leans against one of the few rocks in their camp. His M249 lays across his lap. He closes his eyes. He pulled night watch last night, and would probably tomorrow. So, he has decided get some rest in the mean time. He opens one of his eyes, and reaches to unlatch his pack. He leans back, and finally rests.

After what feels like sometime, he sits up. He rubs his eyes of sleep. He looks around the camp, nothing seems out of place. He can see a few of the men sleeping. He pushes off the ground and picks up the LMG by it's handle. He moves to the edge of the camp. And finds the guards all still standing watch. He does a brief check each one and then returns to his spot on the ground. As he does. A few rounds go off, bullets go tearing through the camp. Striking random objects from rocks to bushes.

He swiftly gets to his feet again. The marines sleeping on the ground do as well. All of them begin grabbing their weapons. They look around in confusion. Trying to find the threat.

"Get to cover, and equip night vision!"

The marines scramble at the orders. Fenrir already has slipped his goggles and helmet on. He finds cover behind a nearby rock. He looks over the terrain of the desert.

"Where are the shots coming from?"

He yells across the camp. No one gave him a definitive answer. He noticed he did not hear a marines voice.

"Roll call."

He listens as the four marines slowly give their numbers, but there was no fifth. Fenrir, slowly moves his position. Passing by each of the soldiers. Visual checking them as he passes. He gets to the spot on the edge of the camp where he saw Private Philmore last. At first he couldn't find him. Then he found him. Unmoving in the sand, was the Private. Blood had leaked onto the sand. An ugly crimson in the dark.

Fenrir slowly crawls toward the corpse, he grabs his vest latch. And drags him back into the camp. He gently props the marine on a rock. A few of the soldiers see the Private's corpse. They all look at their leader. Fenrir covers the body with a blanket.

"Keep your eyes on our surroundings."

He gives a harsh whispered command. The marines obey. The Sergeant slowly slips over to the radio. He sees the bullet holes in it. He tries it. Putting the headset next to his ear. Nothing. No sound or the usual radio static. He drops the headset, and turns.

"Dave get over here and try to fix this."

A marine who was previously watching the desert around them turns and jogs over. He gives it a quick look over.

"I'll see what I can do."

Fenrir nods and slips back onto the camp's natural protection. His eyes watch the horizon. The sun gone, and no help in sight.

*Later that night into the next few days. A battle would rage, as eight U.S. Marines would fight for their lives. No reinforcements in sight. Limited ammo, limited medical supplies. The battle would last almost 3 days of on and off fighting. As enemy soldiers besieged the hill encampment. Thousands of shell casings litter the hill side and top. Hundreds of bodies litter the hill side and the desert below.*


I didn't know how much you wanted, but if you want another sample. I will gladly write another.

User avatar
The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
Minister
 
Posts: 3429
Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Thu Oct 21, 2021 9:30 am

Margaux wrote:
CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Roman Dickerson
Age: 14

Divine Parentage: Unknown

Appearance: Roman stands at about 6’0. He has an athletic build, and is slightly tan. Enough to see he goes outside, but not enough to see he is partially pale. He has dark brown hair and shocking cool blue eyes. He is not overly bulky, but slim and lean. His hair is cut very short, almost a military buzz cut.

Known Abilities:
Demigod Physiology: He is stronger than most people, and is way faster in reaction time and flat speed. With the genetics from his father, and possibly his mother. He is extremely talented in sports, and with him being a Demigod. Especially in running, throughout his life he dabbled in long distance and sprinting. He also can read and speak fluent ancient Greek.

Weapons: None.

Biography:
Roman was born on a cold and bitter December morning. Or so his father told him. His father being an American Olympic athlete, Daniel Dickerson , almost always being gone or busy with his fame. Roman never knew his mother, and his father never spoke of her. Although he was never hungry nor homeless. With his father being an Olympic gold medalist. He lived in many places bouncing around the American continent. Never staying for long and always switching schools. Except when he turned about 10 years old. Finally, his father retired from athletics, and settled down.

Once he started schooling, he never really understood much of it. He could never sit still in class, always trying to be on the move, or doing something. And with him being dyslexic, he couldn't stand the constant words in front of him. And when it was found out he had ADHD. He was put into more appropriate classes. And because of his fathers wealth and fame, he could afford a good school for him. Even with his educational difficulties.

One of the first things his father did, was push Roman into sports. He always thought it was to keep him moving, and try to deal with his problems. And to make him just like his father. But, he didn't mind, he found he was very good at the sports he played. And he always had a fierce drive to win, at any cost. And once he started running Track & Field and playing football. He felt he found his calling. Always winning and improving in every sport he did. He was the fastest runner in sprinting and long distance, and he led his football team in every game. During his next 3 years, he was noticed across the state as being a great athlete. Medals covered his walls, and awards covered his shelves. He loved to win, and he did everything he could to achieve it.

During his final year in middle school, stranger and stranger things happened. Newer kids began appearing in school, they attacked him. But, either by luck or by skill he always slipped away from them. And when he told the school officials they just ignored him. And thought he was looking for attention, blaming his father for being a bad influence. It went on for another year before something bad happened.

He just finished up practice for the day, and was on his way home. (Because, of his constant drive to win, he did not have many friends. He didn't understand the social aspect of life.) When he arrived home, he pushed open the door, and froze. Something did not feel right. He walked further into the house. He saw the place was trashed and blood was splattered all over the ground. He slowly walked toward his fathers office, seeing the blood trail led toward it. The door was slightly open. He looked to see his father laying propped against the wall, a strange weapon in his hand.

His father flicked his eyes toward him, and told him to run. And that is what Roman did, with a sense of urgency he never felt before. He ran, and just kept running. Later in the news he would see, his house burned down mysteriously and his fathers remains were supposedly found. And his face was plastered all over the page as well, reporting him missing. Then for about half a year, he would be chased, and hunted. He learned through harsh lessons about fighting and running.

He lived and slept in the streets and alleys. He did everything he could to survive. Including fighting with the other homeless people. He always "succeeded" in any of the fights he decided to engage. He either won or escaped before he was killed. And that was victory enough for him. He had seen many things just slipping through the streets. More of the strange monsters, and how they walked the streets with the average people. Sometimes he saw other people fighting with his demons. But, he never approached, always staying away.

One day, he awoke to someone standing over him. Usually, he woke long before anyone got this close. He noticed the person held a strange weapon in his hand. He had seen the type of weapon before, when he found his father that fateful day. He quickly stood and backed away. The person did not seem to be a threat, as none of his senses were giving him their usual warnings.

The person then spoke, she spoke slowly almost trying to sooth a spooked animal. The woman explained everything he went through the past months. The monsters, the strange happenings. Everything. And then she spoke of a place where he would be safe and protected from the attacks. Where he could learn to defend and fight these monsters. He thought of everything he did to make it here, and then nodded his head....

RP Sample: Aegis Act I
Or
Sgt. Fenrir "Czar" Romanov
Unknown Location

Fenrir sits, his LMG leaning against his leg. He watches the horizon as the sun sets. His patrol is camped on the outskirts of the barren border. His nine man team is dispersed, some cleaning their weapons quickly. Or acting as guards, watching the camps surroundings.

He slips his pack off his back and stands. He quickly looks over his soldiers, making sure everyone is present and alive. They have been camped here for almost two days. Their unit was supposed to keep a loose eye on the border. In his opinion it was more like a suicide mission. Nine men on the whole border. He just shakes his head.

So far they have seen nothing, but sand and various locals coming and going. A few suspicious character were spotted on the first day, but they decided to let them go. Nothing to go out and seek them for. Fenrir stops next to one of the soldiers.

"Phil, see anything?"

"Nothing but sand, sir."

Fenrir nods, and stretches. Stiff muscles and bones, shifting and cracking.

"Sir? Do you know when we are returning to base?"

He stops and flicks his gaze at the man.

"You know as much as I, Private Philmore. For some reason the commander thought, why not send our unit to sit on a dusty border. And collect sand in their boots."

"Then why don't we return to base, then?"

He points a thumb over his shoulder.

"How Private? We could walk back, yes. But, that is a 20 mile trek. Easily doable without the packs and the blazing heat during the day. And we don't disobey orders. We will wait here until our ride returns. Understood?"

The private ducks his head. Fenrir walks back to where his pack is. He again does a quick check of his soldiers, and then checks if their camp is secured. He checks their ammo crates, supply boxes, and radio. When he was first introduced to the mission, he made sure to check the supplies. And he deduced they would be gone for about a week and a half. Could be extended to about three weeks if they needed too. The radio was a bit odd, but in the middle of the desert he doubted much else would work.

They made a small camp a top a sandy hill, with a few bushes and small trees for cover. A few medium sized rocks were sitting amongst the camp. They could see for miles around, if they had anything to look at.

Fenrir leans against one of the few rocks in their camp. His M249 lays across his lap. He closes his eyes. He pulled night watch last night, and would probably tomorrow. So, he has decided get some rest in the mean time. He opens one of his eyes, and reaches to unlatch his pack. He leans back, and finally rests.

After what feels like sometime, he sits up. He rubs his eyes of sleep. He looks around the camp, nothing seems out of place. He can see a few of the men sleeping. He pushes off the ground and picks up the LMG by it's handle. He moves to the edge of the camp. And finds the guards all still standing watch. He does a brief check each one and then returns to his spot on the ground. As he does. A few rounds go off, bullets go tearing through the camp. Striking random objects from rocks to bushes.

He swiftly gets to his feet again. The marines sleeping on the ground do as well. All of them begin grabbing their weapons. They look around in confusion. Trying to find the threat.

"Get to cover, and equip night vision!"

The marines scramble at the orders. Fenrir already has slipped his goggles and helmet on. He finds cover behind a nearby rock. He looks over the terrain of the desert.

"Where are the shots coming from?"

He yells across the camp. No one gave him a definitive answer. He noticed he did not hear a marines voice.

"Roll call."

He listens as the four marines slowly give their numbers, but there was no fifth. Fenrir, slowly moves his position. Passing by each of the soldiers. Visual checking them as he passes. He gets to the spot on the edge of the camp where he saw Private Philmore last. At first he couldn't find him. Then he found him. Unmoving in the sand, was the Private. Blood had leaked onto the sand. An ugly crimson in the dark.

Fenrir slowly crawls toward the corpse, he grabs his vest latch. And drags him back into the camp. He gently props the marine on a rock. A few of the soldiers see the Private's corpse. They all look at their leader. Fenrir covers the body with a blanket.

"Keep your eyes on our surroundings."

He gives a harsh whispered command. The marines obey. The Sergeant slowly slips over to the radio. He sees the bullet holes in it. He tries it. Putting the headset next to his ear. Nothing. No sound or the usual radio static. He drops the headset, and turns.

"Dave get over here and try to fix this."

A marine who was previously watching the desert around them turns and jogs over. He gives it a quick look over.

"I'll see what I can do."

Fenrir nods and slips back onto the camp's natural protection. His eyes watch the horizon. The sun gone, and no help in sight.

*Later that night into the next few days. A battle would rage, as eight U.S. Marines would fight for their lives. No reinforcements in sight. Limited ammo, limited medical supplies. The battle would last almost 3 days of on and off fighting. As enemy soldiers besieged the hill encampment. Thousands of shell casings litter the hill side and top. Hundreds of bodies litter the hill side and the desert below.*


I didn't know how much you wanted, but if you want another sample. I will gladly write another.


Accepted, Welcome aboard!

User avatar
Nations United for Conquest
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5237
Founded: May 06, 2016
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Nations United for Conquest » Mon Oct 25, 2021 7:50 pm

Theyra wrote:-Snip-


Mmm, definetly interested in how Ila and Zane may interact, given the effect she has on Hecate's kids, despite her relatively friendly and calm personality
National Information
Leader - Prime Minister Alaro Kuhn
Capital - Gesno
Population - 325,581,223
Currency - Krot ($)
Roleplay Information
OP Gatelord - [OOC]
The Coming Storm - PLANNED
TBA FE RP - PLANNED

THE DEMOCRATIC SOCIALIST REPUBLIC OF OSKANO
COBALT NETWORK MEMBER
Est. 1663

User avatar
The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
Minister
 
Posts: 3429
Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Sun Nov 07, 2021 12:45 pm

CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Alexander Pheidon
Age: 18
Divine Parentage: Athena
Appearance: Image

Known Abilities: Demigod Physiology: Alexander has the standard Demigod physiology. He's stronger, faster, and tougher than ordinary mortals, with enhanced reaction speed and the ability to speak and read ancient greek fluently.

Genius Intellect: Alex is capable of great feats of intellect, including a photographic memory, fluency in several languages on top of English and Ancient Greek including Latin, Modern Greek, Hieroglyphs, French, and Spanish, and can do most math within his head within a few minutes.

Stratagem: Alex has a brilliant mind for strategy, often able to picture the best out come for himself and his fellow campers with ease. While he excells in long term strategies, his battle tactics aren't always better than the Ares kids or other Athena campers, and his harmatia is that he assumes that the world will always follow simple or orderly rules.
Weapons: Olive wood bow and Celestial bronze arrows.

Biography: Alexander Pheidon has had a pretty easy life for a demigod. Born in the era of peace when most of the 7 were still active, to a classics prodigy teaching at Columbia and Athena, he of course experienced strange things every now and again, a centaur in central park, a satyr watching him from across the street, but he was never attacked the way some demigods were. He struggled in school briefly before he was diagnosed with dyslexia and learned to work around it, and by the time he was entering middle school he already had several plans for how his life was going to go. His father of course tried to keep his expectations low, knowing the fate his son held, but he couldn't ever quite stifle Alex's ambition.

When Alex turned twelve however, his father finally had to put the breaks on his son's plans. That summer, he drove with Alex out to Long Island, and tried his best to explain what was happening. There, the pair of them met Chiron, who explained the circumstances much better to the young boy. The first night around the bonfire, the holographic symbol of an owl claimed Alex as Athena's son, and he joined his cabin. At camp he excelled in Archery, as well as several of the more intellectual pursuits the camp offered. Still however, he heard about the experiences his fellows went through with monsters, and felt... annoyed, betrayed, left out, it was hard to put a specific name to the feeling. He of course fought Monsters when he inevitably went on quests, but by and large they ignored him. He wasn't angry about it, but he couldn't say he was happy about it all the time either. His fifth year at camp, when he was 17, he assumed the role of Head Counselor of the Athena cabin after the tragic death of he predecessor. He has been in the role since.

RP Sample: I'm me

User avatar
The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
Minister
 
Posts: 3429
Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Sun Nov 07, 2021 12:49 pm

With my second app up now, I'm gonna give some people who have indicated interest over discord a day or a few to get apps up, and then the IC should be up later this week.

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Pragia
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Posts: 7447
Founded: May 08, 2012
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Pragia » Sun Nov 07, 2021 1:25 pm

CAMPER REGISTRATION FORM

Camper Name: Alyssa 'Allie' Thorton
Age: 16
Divine Parentage: Demeter
Appearance: Something like this
Allie is 6’2” and powerfully built, as is common among Cabin 4 Campers. She carries herself casually, with a slight forward lean from poor posture. While her skin is naturally quite pale, she gains a significant tan in summer and autumn months, and sports a distinct lack of cuts and callouses from work in the fields, which is much more atypical among the children of Demeter at camp. Her rich blonde hair is often compared to wheat, and is braided in summer. Her face carries a strong resemblance to her mother with softer definition in her facial features.

Known Abilities:
Demigod Physiology: Heroic physical abilities par standard for Camp Half-Blood, Allie has considerable endurance and strength befitting the long hours of work that she keeps.

Chlorokinesis: Able to control plants like nearly all Cabin 4, Allie is typically tending to the fields in assisting the growth of plants. She has focused more on control than volume, often espousing the benefits of an even growth season, but is capable of rapidly maturing plant life. Children of Demeter are able to detect and “feel” plant life nearby them and easily identify them and their uses. Additionally, plants cannot physically harm Allie, even with intent to injure her, thorns will slide off her skin, and crushing vines will only be able to hold her comfortably.

Passive Geokinesis: When working dirt and rock, Allie finds the earth does not resist her efforts, allowing for rapid progress to be made with everything from trowels, plows, shovels, to her own hands. Indeed, dirt seems to distance itself from her over time, rarely coming home from preparing the earth with grime on her.

Weapons:
Celestial Bronze Harpe (Sickle)

Seed Pouch: A gift from her mother, and a sign of her claiming, Allie possess a seed pouch which, when the name of a plant is spoken while it is open, will produce viable seeds for that plant in abundance that are particularly suggestable to the chlorokinesis of Children of Demeter. This has allowed her to produce thorny rose brush quickly, as well as produce medicinal herbs for combat applications. It will appear next to her at the beginning of each day as the sun rises.

Biography: Born in upstate New York to a farming family, Allie’s father was fancied by Demeter for his strong work ethic and respect for his craft. His first child, Allie had a very busy home life full of responsibilities, which only grew when her father married and her half-siblings were born. There were always questions about Allie’s parentage, especially as she was raised alone by him, and there was never much discussion of his first affairs. She was embraced tacitly by her new mother, but she maintained an excellent relationship with her father, and her siblings would often look up to her and she would often be willing to help them with their chores.

As Allie got older, to around the age of twelve, things started to become difficult. Harvests would become strained, and pests would often steal straight from the fields. The Child of Demeter was given a pellet gun and told to watch at night for whatever creatures might be stealing their crop. During her watches, she would see little creatures walking through the fields and stealing these goods. Too small to be people, but they chattered in a language she could only barely understand properly.

She tried to fire at one, but they seemed unphased. They quickly approached her, but for all their terrifying appearances, they could not harm her. They were karpoi, grain spirits, and after they realized that they could not wound the girl, they apologized and begged for mercy. It was granted in confusion, Allie still not understanding at all what was going on, but she demanded that they not steal her crops as they were under her protection.

Following this event, she tried to explain it to her father, who decided that it was proper to inform her of her true parentage and give her the seed pouch which he had been using on their farm. They remained on the farm together for the conclusion of the harvest, but following that Allie was brought to Camp Half-Blood with little interference from the monsters that abounded. She did not require much convincing to stay there, for while she loved her father, she knew that she may well attract greater threats to them.

At camp, Allie took very well to having so many siblings, and was welcomed warmly among the few children of Demeter. It would not be long before she was making arrangements with the Nymphs and Dryads, and taking up a leadership role in the winter planning and spring plantings. She was grateful that strawberries were the primary produce, and was one of the very few campers to have a positive relationship with Mr. D, as she is often assisting him with the strawberry fields.

Despite her heavy focus on the fields, Allie is still quite active in camp activities. While she does not plan the feasts like most of her cabin, she is an unexpected powerhouse in the games of Capture the Flag. Many times she has cultivated a truly terrifying array of thick vines and brush when she has more free time, a predilection which has engendered good relations with Cabin 6 and her physical prowess has resulted in her being one of the few fighters Cabin 4 has.

Now Allie is a senior member of Cabin 4, primarily due to her limited number of quests completed. Despite this, seasoned members of her cabin defer to her for regimentation. She is often one providing guidance for younger members of the cabin, while also applying her skills dutifully in a wide array of subjects.

RP Sample: Hopefully TotG suffices
Last edited by Pragia on Sun Nov 07, 2021 1:35 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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