Metosi was glad that Shinon shared his own sentiments, with a similar gleam of ambition in his eye. The dark elf wanted the reputation taking down the renegade necromancer would bring, but even more so, any magical items the man might possess! Metosi's fingers twitched slightly at the thought, not caring one whit about the gold that might also be hidden in a mage's hoard. No, he wanted a tome, a staff, soul gems, enchanted jewelry, anything that might further his already prodigious arcane gifts and would help finish this job all the quicker. And with Ka-Vara so unwilling to continue, Metosi was confident he would have first claim of any loot they did chance upon, seeing as exploring the tower had been his own suggestion! Taking a moment before he responded to his companions, Metosi chanted a long series of incantations, faintly glowing from the extra power the rolling language afforded him.
"Even incompetent fools can kill by chance, Ka-Vara. What if a traveling Argonian chanced upon this tower and had the same idea as we did? Could you say that you wouldn't be revolted that some necromancer defiled their corpse? I wish to continue, as does our wily friend here. What say you?" Metosi had been walking as he said all this, reaching the foot of the stairs as he asked Ka-Vara what he wished to do. One hand on a post to push back in case of a sudden attack, Metosi warily looked up to the top of the stairs.
Maneuver and Action: Uses Incantations and moves to the foot of the stairs, peering upwards to check for immediate danger.
Garrooth simply gave Azrael an acknowledging nod, before watching him move through the doors of flame. "The Labyrinth of Hope is open to all students, so long as they are courageous enough to enter again, though some spirits loath your presence here . . ."
The voice of the spirit faded as Azrael passed through the doors, and with his entrance, it closed behind him, and at once the temperature dropped. Despite the intensity of the flames, they were cold and chilled to the bone. Azrael's breath came out in fogs of cold, and he was surrounded by nothing but darkness. A voice echoing around him called out:
"Please wait here, until your opponent finishes their initial exam, Mr. Arcana. Oh, and congratulations on a job well done. It's a pleasure to have you at our Academy."
The voice was warm, in sharp contrast to his freezing surroundings, with a tone that would be familiar to everyone - it was a voice that everyone kept within them, a voice that they would instinctively recognize even if they had never experienced it before. A voice that cared, and a voice that soothed you, and lulled you to sleep, that protected you from the nightmares of the dark, and assured you when you needed it the most. A voice that all living things craved for, no matter the passage of time.
The voice of a mother.
Azrael slowly relaxed as he realized that he'd have a short time to put the last encounter behind him. Despite the cold of this plane, AA sat on the cold floor, coming to rest in a crossed leg position. Connecting his hands, fingers meeting fingers to form an 'o', the young man began to breath deeply, countering the chill with his own meditations. Soon, there was a small ring of fire around the lad, creating strong currents as these flames met their otherworldly counterparts. The two battled constantly, yet Azrael paid no heed, so engrossed in his trance. His energy resonated within himself, warding the effects this plane could do to his muscles. Fatigue was one issue, but cramping from too cold limbs would be a larger one if he didn't continue his easy exercise.
His eyes were closed, not to be opened until he heard that warm voice once again. It was strange, how deeply that disembodied voice resonated within his soul, casting him farther back in his memories than he'd ever consciously been able to go. It brought to him a very powerful feeling of love as the tender touch of a feminine hand stroking his hair and the feeling of sleepy serenity as he napped on the lap of the owner of that very hand. This, more than his meditations, brought him a fierce strength and he felt the ring of fire grow higher and faster in its ever present circuit around him. He was ready for his next opponent, whoever they may be.
Having long since taken a shower, gotten changed, and generally made himself acceptable by society's standards, Jericho walked out of Artemis's cabin feeling like a new man! With the heavy beat of Arianna's first track of the day filling the camp with life, he was suddenly grateful for the party. It afforded his return no small amount of anonymity, except for that little mishap at the lake. He stretched luxuriously in the warm afternoon sun and noted the position of the sun. If he had any hope to get Erin to attend, he'd better start needling her now until she was too fed up to say no. As he patted around in his pockets, he realized he'd forgotten the gift he'd procured for her on his most recent monster hunt. Jericho had long since realized that his continued disappearing act infuriated Erin and these small gifts were his versions of an apology.
He bounded up the steps, waved his hand in front of the door (because who needed a key with a locksmith like Ky?), and scooped the brown paper wrapped rectangle from his nightstand, secured with twine. This was only one of two gifts for Erin, however. The second was tied to the brown paper of the rectangle, the blank backside of the paper facing up as to be a surprise. After a momentary consideration, he scooped up a third gift similarly wrapped, but very different in contour. It looked strange to say the least, thick at one end as if it would fit into one's grip comfortably, and extending a hand a quarter's length after what was obviously a hilt. This one was for Grif. It had been awhile since he'd talked to the guy and he felt that it was an appropriate gift. He tucked each of the gifts into his two inside jacket pockets, right and left respectively. Grif's present bounced conspicuously against his breast, but Jericho didn't really care.
When he made it to the Hades' cabin, he had an odd feeling as nostalgia took over him. He remembered watching from the shade of the trees as Erin was led to her new home, so much different than the girl he knew today. Shaking off his bemusement, Jericho put on his best charming smile and rapped three times, counted a half second then knocked twice. It was his usual signal to Erin that it was none other than yours truly at the door. Just in case she was particularly testy that day.
~Logan Murdock~
~Cabin Hephaestus~
His arms were held up to shoulder height and fully extended, much to the amazement of campers watching Logan's progress through the growing mob of campers. They parted way as he politely smiled, nodded, and excused himself and the kegs, one held in each hand as if he were carrying two kittens by the scruff of the neck. After making his way from the cellar to the ice tubs for the kegs, he finally deposited his load gently to its container. Logan ducked his head from under the amazed stares of the Greeks. He didn't like all the attention the simple favor of carrying the four kegs to the party's central location and he had a sneaking suspicion Arianna had coordinated that way for this very reason. The fifth and final keg he carried with both hands, for comfort, into Ky'vie's cabin and kitchen. He hadn't seen much of her, except from bustling in and out of the house to the grill and chatting with various campers that wanted to talk to her. Every time he managed to catch her eye, however, he immediately felt a red blush rise on his neck, threatening to smother his face until he shifted his thoughts.
There were so many people here, Logan couldn't have imagined so many campers. It seemed every demigod, satyr, naiad, and woodland spirit had come to enjoy the merrymaking! Roman never had such devil-may-care gatherings, so the son of Jupiter was very much out of his element. What he did know, was how to drink with the best of them. Quickly tapping the keg, grabbing a red Solo cup, and pumping out a healthy serving, he downed half the beer instantly, just to settle his nerves. The cup was soon empty, and again after that, and Logan found himself on his third cup before he made his way out of the cabin door. He looked around until a familiar leather jacket caught his eye at the far right end of the porch.
Walking up to the Englishman, he gripped the handrail with his left hand, even as he took another healthy gulp of the brew. "Hey Grif, you came to the party! What's up?..." Logan paused for a moment, reading the air as you walked beside the man. "You've got a look about you.. like my legionnaires did whenever we were about to do battle. Something on your mind?" Logan asked in concern and respect. The energetic aura Grif had displayed so much before had seemed sobered by something that Logan couldn't put a finger on, not knowing the guy well enough. But a man that looked like he was readying for war was familiar indeed. The red head wondered if there was something he could do to help the roguish son of Hermes. He looked down at Griffin's cup, seeing that it was still nearly full. Logan guessed that was a bad sign for a Grecian.
I just realized that the ball post had gone up and that Charles was going to reply... wouldn't it be a little confusing to have him reply now? I think he should just go straight to the ball.
@Wintergrey Everything looks pretty good, but Calista's poster just wishes you to change the relations status from Good Friend to at most an Almost Friend, but doesn't mind the love interest at all.
On the subject of the gang, did you want it to be a cartel, or just a street gang that peddles drugs? Gangs are a lot like a family in and of itself and there are some things that need to happen for you to be in a gang. He'd need an initiation into the gang, to prove his loyalty and he would have been told about the implications of being in the crew. If you want or need ideas, send me a PM and we can talk about it. This is more for accuracy than anything else, since the gangs wouldn't be so casual as to bring someone in just for the muscle, so to speak. They want strong people, yes, but they want loyalty until death first and foremost!
Otherwise, it looks great and will probably be accepted with just the edits to relations with Calista.
Metosi once again began his incantations, the words now coming easier and more fluid. It had been a long time since he'd use so much Destruction magic in succession, but he enjoyed watching his undead foes fall. He nodded in approval as a crack shot from Shinon dropped the smoking zombie and he figured Ka-Vara didn't need the assistance of a spell, now wielding both of his heavy maces and bearing down on the lone zombie that was the sole survivor from the first trio. The energy crackled in the air as he took at at the same zombie that Shinon now shot his arrow. His summoned Daedric wolf creature attacked the other zombie that Qa'Ra tangled with, lunging at the shuffling thing's leg with deadly fangs. While he'd love to take heart in such a quick defeat of the monsters, Metosi knew that this necromancer would be showing his face all too soon after his constructs were destroyed.
Maneuver and Action: Use Incantations, cast Shock Damage/ Magnitude 1 (Magicka 8/15)
"If you always look behind you, you’ll trip on what’s right under your feet. If you look at your feet, you’ll trip down the road. If you stare only at the horizon, you’ll never see the joy of the journey. Never forget to stop looking and start seeing." ~ Virgil Ponce DeLeon.
~General Information~
Name: Virgil Ponce DeLeon Nick-Names: Virge, Lion, Stretch Sex/ Gender: Male Age: Eighteen Place Of Origin: Oakland, California Camp Cabin: Cabin Thirteen- Hades
Appearance - Eighteen Years Old:
~Relationship Information~
Relationship Status: Single Sexuality: Straight Partner: None Godly Parent: Hades Human Parent: Lisette Ponce DeLeon(mother), Grandma Edna (grandmother- real parent) Siblings: None Legacy: Unknown, if any. Pet/s: None Other: (Sister)Erin Marie Chase, does not know anyone else at camp, being completely new.
~Personal Information~
Personality: Virgil grew up fending for himself, for not long after her dalliance with his father, Hades, Lisette was hardly fit to be a mother. He grew up with an abiding anger at drugs and the users that took them. His grandma raised him to be a boy of honor and integrity, to help when he could, but keep his nose down when he knew he shouldn’t. Many times he’d had to run away from what he thought was bullying, when it was in fact a mugging. His nearest brush with death had been the bullet that nearly tore through his shoulder, leaving a gouge along his shoulder muscle. His grandma had beat him nearly senseless when she found out he would be okay. Virgil knew she was just scared and had simply pulled her into a strong hug, taking comfort in her presence.
He’s a studious sort, always wanting all the details before making a decision or judgement of a person or subject. He is loath to let anyone get close, in case they turn on him like some of his old friends had in his neighborhood
Caution and anxiety now rule his thoughts, thinking that there might be a threat around every corner, in every person. After a few run-ins with a few unsavory characters, he’d sworn off anyone that didn’t first prove themselves through fire and trials. He’s not known to have a temper, but is quick to retaliate or retort to someone’s challenge or insult. Never one to take things lying down, he possesses a strong will that is slow to recover after his recent tragedies. Not known by many, Virgil is also an extremely sentimental person, often putting in great stock in small gestures and favors that come unasked. If someone were to sit down with him in a moment of vulnerability Virgil will accept support from anyone patient enough to deal with his near catatonic state of grief.
Skills: Virgil is a fair writer, a decent sketcher, and a paramount athlete. His particular talent is hoops, winning many a game on the blacktop in Oakland. It was the money won in these games that allowed him to fund his needs as he fled across the country.
He has all the powers afforded to a child of Hades, but doesn’t know how to use any but Shadow travel, of which he finds particularly easy and not very taxing at all. Yet his nonstop flight across the United States put him at the limits of his abilities, using it continuously for battles and escape, jumping large distances. Eventually he was limited to much shorter hops as his stamina was drawn to its outer limits.
Biography: Virgil was born to a single mother, a once glamorous actress that quickly slid down the dirty side of the business. With a raging coke addiction, she spent most of her earnings before he’d even grown out of diapers. She kicked the habit, finding work in small time commercials, finally breaking back into the scene and rarely having time for her son because of it. Eventually, business slowed as he drug abuse came back and the wear began to show on her beauty. Soon, they were back to the slums of Oakland, back to Lisette’s roots with Virgil in tow.
Lisette had always been attractive and she made use of her little remaining beauty, the only way she knew how… hooking. It wasn’t soon after that she was chasing the dragon’s tail and addicted to heroin. Virgil was five turning six when the worst of it was fully underway. Once, he’d escaped their garbage strewn apartment, finding his mother in the side alley between his tenement and the next, a needle still in her arm as the euphoria filled her body. It was obvious, even then to the young boy, his mother didn’t care about the world around her anymore. Wasn’t the mother he’d once known and loved. He began beating her shoulders and crying, urging her to come back home! He was hungry, tired, and needed his mother!
Child Services were called and Virgil was placed with his Grandmother forthwith. From that tender age onward, he lived with his sweet old Grandma Edna. She took him in with open arms and a warm heart, but with stern rules. His grades never slipped below a B+ again, most often finding Virgil on the honor roll. He now had all the food he could want, his grandmother an excellent cook. Even with all of her rich soul food cooking, Virgil was still fit and strong, not a trace of body fat. Edna always chalked up to her good genes, but Virgil had always suspected differently. His grandmother wanted to protect him for as long as she thought she could.
At the age of eighty-two, Edna was diagnosed with leukemia. Seven months went by after the initial diagnosis and her treatments seemed to be going extremely well. Her doctors were hopeful, optimistic even, yet Virgil couldn’t help but feel differently. Somehow, he knew, his grandmother would die, on his birthday no less. Soon, that fateful day came. He knelt beside her bedside, holding onto a hand that was far too thin. Edna had been a rotund woman and strong in body and soul. It was a wonder she’d survived as long as she did, something that the latent powers of Virgil had a hand in. His subconscious desire to keep his grandmother stayed her death for as long as was even unnaturally possible.
Hours they sat in silent vigil, waiting for the fated time. In the final minutes of her life, Edna finally revealed Virgil’s true heritage, the divine blood of Hades that coursed through his veins. Even as she told him, the dark purple glow of his father’s symbol appeared above his head, floating there without any source other than itself. He wondered at it… until the weak grip of his grandma’s became nonexistent. She had passed away seemingly between beats of his heart and in that moment, Virgil felt more alone than he ever thought he could. Yet even before the true breadth of grief could consume him, an odd sound of scraping and cracking resounded from the ceiling!
Between blinks, the roof was ripped from its holding and a blood-chilling screech filled the air. Virgil began to shake as wide eyes laid on the very first monster, but certainly not the last he’d know. A drakon had come for him and he could see many shadowy shapes all about the night sky. He felt the strength of the shadows then, his awareness of his demigod abilities manifesting in the first ability a child of Hades might utilize, Shadow travel. He managed to get on top of the drakon, flung around by wild bucking as if it were a bull. He flew through the night air, catching a hold on two spines on the drakon’s tail. He snapped one off and managed to climb its spine, eventually digging its own bone into its eye and crumbling the beast into dust!
Thus started Virgil’s desperate escape to Camp Half-blood, his new home, and the only place he had family left.
~Weaponry Information~
Weapon/s: A minotaur horn and a drakon bone Weapon/s Name: none Weapon/s Type: Improvised Attributes: None
