He scoffed. " D&D? Really? Ain't that for nerds to agonise about? I got a couple of furries back at school who won't shut up about how much they want to date their own character." He sneered. "Just like furries to be weird like that, eh? Anyway, what's GTA? Isn't that a game about going around some city and being a piece of sh*t to everyone around you?"
He was still thinking, though. What would he need to make a demigod-proof gaming laptop? Well, first off, he'd definitely need a normal mortal laptop to reverse engineer. Then, maybe, cover it in Celestial Bronze plating? "Ay, what you all think of a Demigod-Proof Gaming Laptop, or PC or whatever? How d'you think it'd work? Would Celestial Bronze work as a shield against our auras?"
He considered the invitation. On one hand, he didn't know what the heck Mythomagic was, but had been trying to get into it. On the other hand, he didn't know anything about games. He shrugged and wheeled himself closer to the table.
"I was mad, thats all. Plus I was agonising over one stupid knife," he grumbled. "Anyway, what even is Mythomagic? And what games are the people talking about and playing? I know about that one dating simulator game thats super creepy and involves something about the game files, and that block game all the teens are raving about these days," he said, rolling his eyes. "And I think I remember that one that the Ares kids hate. Pardon my ignorance, I never had much opportunity to play games."
Really, he hoped he remembered all the details right. But one advantage of being around smelly, 'gamer' teenagers was that he knew what types of laptops one would need to make a gaming laptop. He wondered if he could build a gaming laptop or PC from scratch, and if he could demigod-proof it. Maybe he could even earn some money for it.
He grunted, then laid back down. He tried to fall asleep, but his own anger seemed to be working against him, keeping him awake and aware of all that was going on around him - the talking, the sniffling, whatever else. He also felt the girl turning around and looking at him.
Finally, after a few minutes, his anger ebbed down, and he sat up, once again. Opening up his wheelchair, he lifted himself into it, but decided not to go anywhere else. He'd check his forge later for fingerprints and have another try. He looked towards the girl, still scowling slightly. " Why were you looking at me?" he grumbled slightly. Then, making another split second decision, he asked, "What are y'all talkin' about, anyway?"
Why did he decide to have a conversation? Unclear, but he figured that he might as well try to calm down and not be pissed over a single broken knife. He might as well actually talk to others in the cabin.
Michel didnt answer at first, turned around and sulky as he was. Then he grumbled and sat up.
Looking over to the girl, he scowled. " F**ked up one of my projects," he grumbled. "A kopis, like one of the ones uncovered from those Egyptian Ruins. Just my f**king luck. "
Having said his part, he lay back down, still scowling. He was really not in the mood to talk to anyone. And if she didn't stop talking to him, this red haired girl would get a face full of angry paraplegic asshole.
He decided he'd apologise to Lauryn later, but he needed to sulk for a bit.
Michel bared his teeth, slapping her hand off. " Don't f**king touch me," he snapped, wheeling himself away. " I don't need your f**king pity or sympathy. I'm going to my cabin."
He looked towards the boy. " I'll come back later and check my forge. If I see your fingerprints on it, I'll f**king ruin your life, " he warned, before wheeling himself out of the door. He quickly wheeled himself into his cabin, ignoring everyone else, and came to his bed.
Muttering angrily, he lifted himself out of his wheelchair and onto his bed, and folded it up, resting it against his bunk. He'd deal with his failures later. For now, he needed to sulk.
Michel frowned, looking to the kid. "...Maybe you're right. I just have to try again, then," he grumbled, then got back to hammering on the sheet of metal. But alas! He bent the sheet too much, and it was unusable for the kopis.
Cursing, he banged his hammer on the table. "God DA-!" At the last moment, he seemed to gain his composure, then huffed, folding his arms. "Just my luck," he grumbled, tugging his legs straight. "I try to make something after a Moment, and I can't do it. "
He turned to his half sister, then wordlessly handed her the Celestial Bronze she wanted. Then he rolled his wheelchair to the nearest wall of the Forge to sulk.
Grimacing as he set his hammer aside, Michel stretched. "Nothing much, I just wanted to make something, but I can't quite get it right. Thinking of abandoning the project and starting another." He wheeled himself so that he was facing Lauryn. "What about you?"
Michel looked like he always did: jacket, white undershirt, blanket over his legs, a distinctly assholish demeanor that seemed to be temped down due to the exhaustion he must be feeling. He'd been trying to make a small sword, one he'd seen his dad make before: a kopis, one of those weird Greek-Egyptian hybrid weapons. But he gave up on it. Too much effort for sonething that probably wouldn't be that good.
Michel leaned back a bit, grunting and sighing. His limp legs were getting to stretched, he better adjust them. But he couldn't be bothered.
Name: Michel Jacques Braun III Aliases: Sausage Boy, Wheels Age: 15 Birthday: June 6 Ethnicity: Latino Birth Place: Phoenix, Arizona Godly Parent: Hephaestus Cabin Number: 9, summer camper How Many Years At Camp: 1 Gender: Transmasc Occupation At Camp: Forger Languages: Ancient Greek, English, Spanish
Appearance
Height: 4'7" in wheelchair, 5'11" when propped up against wall Weight: 130 lbs Body Type: Slim, slightly buff Eye Color: Brown Hair Color: Red with purple dyed streaks Skin Tone: Pasty white Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: N/A Personal Style: Michel sticks with useful and practical, wearing a camo jacket with tons of pockets and wearing an undershit under it, leaving the jacket's zip open. He also wears a pair of light up Skechers, because, in his words, "I need to light up the way somehow". Additionally, he just drapes a blanket over his legs in the wheelchair, occasionally affixing a plate to it to use it as a table. Most of the time, he doesn't bother doing his hair, which he rarely cuts, but occasionally does a small poneytail or trims it a bit
Sexuality: Demiromantic Pansexual Relationship Status: Single Personality: Michel can be best described as a minor megalomaniac, what with him always being cocky with whatever he makes, with utmost confidence in his creations, even if they fail, but also having wild dreams, such as the common "take over the world" thing, as well as minor things, like making a flying pig that shoots lazers. You know, just because. He is incredibly charismatic, able to will weak-minded people over to his side by just twisting his words a little, but still haughty enough that somebody could be able to discern his true nature. Mock his creations? He isn't below mocking you on a personal level just to feel like he got that last word in. Mock how his wheelchair has five rockets and not six, he'll gladly dress you down for having your hair messy. But he is compassionate to some level, especially those who are disabled in any way. Fatal Flaw: Pride Habits: Drinking milk almost every waking hour, excercising only his arms every day Hobbies: Driving is wheelchair over the toes of others, making traps meant for mice Fears:
Loss of mobility in his upper body
Rejection of his identity as a male
Being forced to leave his wheelchair
Likes:
Milk
Dogs
Small animals
Any food with an "-o" at the end of it
Basketball
Sports
Dislikes:
Alcohol
Monotone noises that get louder the longer they go on
Objects that shouldn't move but move
Roombas
Frisbees
Bulldogs
Skills
Demigod Abilities: (It must fit with what your god or goddess parent is.)
Trap Detection
Machine Aptitude
General Skills:
Forging
Arts and Craft
Writing skills
Combat Skills:
Archery
Magic Item:
None
What Do They Carry On Them:
Clothing - Spare shirt, rags, spare pairs of shoes
Purse/Wallet - Several handkerchiefs, some American Dollars, ten or so pens, spare string, old newspaper cuttings
An old Gameboy that doesn't work anymore
Some pencils
Paper
Possessions In Cabin:
A folded up, spare wheelchair
Spare coal that just lies around
Clothes strewn on his bed
History
Biography Born to a disabled father and a autistic mother, Michel grew up in a very disabled friendly enviornment, complete with any and all facilities to aid his father in his day-to-day activities. Both his father and his mother worked in their forge making decorational swords, making him naturally predisposed to being interested in forge work, though he focused more on the decorational part. When his mother finally confessed to his father about Michel's true parentage, that he wasn't his son, he just smiled and said that it didn't matter, that he was still his son, though Michel resented his mother for cheating on him in the first place. Nevertheless, he loved his parents as a child should.
Being homeschooled till Junior High, Michel needed a lot of work to be more social, which he took to with enthusiasm. Soon he would be known around the school as the kid in the wheelchair who would kick your ass or be an asshole to you for no reason. This got him the nickname "Wheels" due to him cackling as he rolled around in his wheelchair. Even so, he was never bullied, because the kids were actually decent human beings. He rose to the top of his Engineering and Design class for his innovative, if mildly dangerous, designs. His friend circle extended beyond the loners and the nerds, to even the jocks. Needless to say, he was the popular kid who was kind of an asshole, but was nice enough if you weren't one to him. Hypocritical, yes, but that was just how he worked
When he turned 13, his father was in an accident while working in the forge, when one of the forges he was working on flared in temperature suddenly. When this happened, a grieving Michel took a long, long break from school, which they were sympathetic enough to provide. When he came back after a month of no showing, he seemed the same, but took offense if any of his friends mocked those with disabilities. Earlier he would've just snapped at them to shut their trap, but now he would resort to fistfights and violence. Within two weeks his friend circle diminished to a handful of people, as his classmates learned not to mention anything negative about disabled people. One thankful thing that was a result of this was that he and his mother grew even closer, even after she married another man, a recurring client who was a divorced English teacher in another school. While he took a while to warm up to his new stepfather, he eventually did, seeing how he made his mother happy.
How Long Have They Been At Camp Half-Blood: When he turned 14, a Satyr came to his home, telling him about how he was a demigod and that he needed to get to Camp to be safe. After the four of them sat down and discussed the situation, his parents agreed that it might be best for him, despite him not being in any danger up till now. He went to camp with the satyr, stayed for some time, and then decided to be a summer Camper.
Extra Information: Favorite god is Hades because he sleeps around the least, and at least tries to be faithful
Michel yawned, blinking as he opened his eyes to his dark room, as the alarm clock buzzed on the table beside him, Grunting, he sat up in bed, grumbling about how it was too early. But he couldn't do anything about it. Mom set the alarm every night and he hadn't been able to unlock the lock she put on its back yet. He looked at the time - 6 A.M. - then dragged himself to the edge of the bed. Letting his limp legs dangle from the edge, he reached for his wheelchair, tucked away in the corner. Good thing he could reach it.
After getting dressed with minimal effort and throwing a blanket over his legs, he wheeled out of the dark room into an even darker hallway, to the lit kitchen, where Mom and Dad cooked breakfast together. He smirked and as he wheeled through the doorway, he said "The great Michel has arrived," in the most ridiculous voice ever. Dad turned his head and laughed, but didn't comment on it, merely wheeling over to his son and giving him a hug. "How's my favorite son doing?"
Michel shrugged. "A lot sleepy. And I still don't understand why I have to be awake at 6 A.M., mom. Its nothing - oh. I start school today, right?"
Amber Braun smiled from the counter. "Finally, he remembers," she mumbled. "I'll be driving you to Felton High. Remember to pick up your new bag from the living room!" she said, before putting the food on a plate, kissing her husband on his forehead, and ambling away to the living room, no doubt to get her keys and get the car ready. Michel sighed, but he supposed he couldn't avoid people outside of his family forever. If not now, then defintiely later on in life when he worked at Dad's forge. Besides, how could anyone resists his charms and fashion sense? The blanket even had puppies on it today! Today would be just fine
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.
Name: Michel Jacques Braun III Aliases: Sausage Boy, Wheels Age: 15 Birthday: June 6 Ethnicity: Latino Birth Place: Phoenix, Arizona Godly Parent: Hephaestus Cabin Number: 9, summer camper How Many Years At Camp: 1 Gender: Transmasc Occupation At Camp: Forger Languages: Ancient Greek, English, Spanish
Appearance
Height: 4'7" in wheelchair, 5'11" when propped up against wall Weight: 130 lbs Body Type: Slim, slightly buff Eye Color: Brown Hair Color: Red with purple dyed streaks Skin Tone: Pasty white Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: N/A Personal Style: Michel sticks with useful and practical, wearing a camo jacket with tons of pockets and wearing an undershit under it, leaving the jacket's zip open. He also wears a pair of light up Skechers, because, in his words, "I need to light up the way somehow". Additionally, he just drapes a blanket over his legs in the wheelchair, occasionally affixing a plate to it to use it as a table. Most of the time, he doesn't bother doing his hair, which he rarely cuts, but occasionally does a small poneytail or trims it a bit
Sexuality: Demiromantic Pansexual Relationship Status: Single Personality: Michel can be best described as a minor megalomaniac, what with him always being cocky with whatever he makes, with utmost confidence in his creations, even if they fail, but also having wild dreams, such as the common "take over the world" thing, as well as minor things, like making a flying pig that shoots lazers. You know, just because. He is incredibly charismatic, able to will weak-minded people over to his side by just twisting his words a little, but still haughty enough that somebody could be able to discern his true nature. Mock his creations? He isn't below mocking you on a personal level just to feel like he got that last word in. Mock how his wheelchair has five rockets and not six, he'll gladly dress you down for having your hair messy. But he is compassionate to some level, especially those who are disabled in any way. Fatal Flaw: Pride Habits: Drinking milk almost every waking hour, excercising only his arms every day Hobbies: Driving is wheelchair over the toes of others, making traps meant for mice Fears:
Loss of mobility in his upper body
Rejection of his identity as a male
Being forced to leave his wheelchair
Likes:
Milk
Dogs
Small animals
Any food with an "-o" at the end of it
Basketball
Sports
Dislikes:
Alcohol
Monotone noises that get louder the longer they go on
Objects that shouldn't move but move
Roombas
Frisbees
Bulldogs
Skills
Demigod Abilities: (It must fit with what your god or goddess parent is.)
Trap Detection
Machine Aptitude
General Skills:
Forging
Arts and Craft
Writing skills
Combat Skills:
Archery
Magic Item:
None
What Do They Carry On Them:
Clothing - Spare shirt, rags, spare pairs of shoes
Purse/Wallet - Several handkerchiefs, some American Dollars, ten or so pens, spare string, old newspaper cuttings
An old Gameboy that doesn't work anymore
Some pencils
Paper
Possessions In Cabin:
A folded up, spare wheelchair
Spare coal that just lies around
Clothes strewn on his bed
History
Biography Born to a disabled father and a autistic mother, Michel grew up in a very disabled friendly enviornment, complete with any and all facilities to aid his father in his day-to-day activities. Both his father and his mother worked in their forge making decorational swords, making him naturally predisposed to being interested in forge work, though he focused more on the decorational part. When his mother finally confessed to his father about Michel's true parentage, that he wasn't his son, he just smiled and said that it didn't matter, that he was still his son, though Michel resented his mother for cheating on him in the first place. Nevertheless, he loved his parents as a child should.
Being homeschooled till Junior High, Michel needed a lot of work to be more social, which he took to with enthusiasm. Soon he would be known around the school as the kid in the wheelchair who would kick your ass or be an asshole to you for no reason. This got him the nickname "Wheels" due to him cackling as he rolled around in his wheelchair. Even so, he was never bullied, because the kids were actually decent human beings. He rose to the top of his Engineering and Design class for his innovative, if mildly dangerous, designs. His friend circle extended beyond the loners and the nerds, to even the jocks. Needless to say, he was the popular kid who was kind of an asshole, but was nice enough if you weren't one to him. Hypocritical, yes, but that was just how he worked
When he turned 13, his father was in an accident while working in the forge, when one of the forges he was working on flared in temperature suddenly. When this happened, a grieving Michel took a long, long break from school, which they were sympathetic enough to provide. When he came back after a month of no showing, he seemed the same, but took offense if any of his friends mocked those with disabilities. Earlier he would've just snapped at them to shut their trap, but now he would resort to fistfights and violence. Within two weeks his friend circle diminished to a handful of people, as his classmates learned not to mention anything negative about disabled people. One thankful thing that was a result of this was that he and his mother grew even closer, even after she married another man, a recurring client who was a divorced English teacher in another school. While he took a while to warm up to his new stepfather, he eventually did, seeing how he made his mother happy.
How Long Have They Been At Camp Half-Blood: When he turned 14, a Satyr came to his home, telling him about how he was a demigod and that he needed to get to Camp to be safe. After the four of them sat down and discussed the situation, his parents agreed that it might be best for him, despite him not being in any danger up till now. He went to camp with the satyr, stayed for some time, and then decided to be a summer Camper.
Extra Information: Favorite god is Hades because he sleeps around the least, and at least tries to be faithful
Michel yawned, blinking as he opened his eyes to his dark room, as the alarm clock buzzed on the table beside him, Grunting, he sat up in bed, grumbling about how it was too early. But he couldn't do anything about it. Mom set the alarm every night and he hadn't been able to unlock the lock she put on its back yet. He looked at the time - 6 A.M. - then dragged himself to the edge of the bed. Letting his limp legs dangle from the edge, he reached for his wheelchair, tucked away in the corner. Good thing he could reach it.
After getting dressed with minimal effort and throwing a blanket over his legs, he wheeled out of the dark room into an even darker hallway, to the lit kitchen, where Mom and Dad cooked breakfast together. He smirked and as he wheeled through the doorway, he said "The great Michel has arrived," in the most ridiculous voice ever. Dad turned his head and laughed, but didn't comment on it, merely wheeling over to his son and giving him a hug. "How's my favorite son doing?"
Michel shrugged. "A lot sleepy. And I still don't understand why I have to be awake at 6 A.M., mom. Its nothing - oh. I start school today, right?"
Amber Braun smiled from the counter. "Finally, he remembers," she mumbled. "I'll be driving you to Felton High. Remember to pick up your new bag from the living room!" she said, before putting the food on a plate, kissing her husband on his forehead, and ambling away to the living room, no doubt to get her keys and get the car ready. Michel sighed, but he supposed he couldn't avoid people outside of his family forever. If not now, then defintiely later on in life when he worked at Dad's forge. Besides, how could anyone resists his charms and fashion sense? The blanket even had puppies on it today! Today would be just fine
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.