Scion: The Cycle of Six Rivers

[Dave ST]

Oh! A relic jar Death peanut butter... He can scoop it out and hurl it at people in globs. Extra crunchy death is very messy...

[Jake Petruzzi]

Question... double checking.. do Epic Atts add their successes to applicable Boon rolls? I think so, since the Mystery Purview explicitly says that you don't add Epic Intelligence, while the others don't... but I'd like to clarify for this game.

[Sonja Bahaar]

Follow it up with little chunks of Earth Chocolate and Corbin has the dreaded Reese Attack!

[GDP_ST]

Grim's a staff or spear guy.

,,

Not that he's Bruce Lee or anything. But he has had some combat training at least.

[Dave ST]

I think, unless specifically stated otherwise, epic arts do add to your boon rolls.

[Jake Petruzzi]

I think, unless specifically stated otherwise, epic arts do add to your boon rolls.

,,

Most excellent.

[Jake Petruzzi]

Birth Name: Jake Petruzzi

Calling: Writer and Protector
Known Relatives: The Atzlanti
Nature: Gallant
Pantheon: Atzlanti

God: Xipe Toltec

Age: 16
Gender: Male
Ethnic Background: Italian
Nationality: American
Height: 5'8
Weight: 158 lbs
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Brown
Handedness: Right
Distinguishing Marks: None


Appearance: Jake looks far more Mediterranean, like a stereotypical Dodekathon Scion than his actual Atzlanti heritage, with olive skin, green eyes and a reasonable fit but middling build.

Personality: What if you discovered your family was a bunch of nasty serial killers? It's much what Jake is dealing with right now, aside from the basics of being the son of a God, and understanding how the World and mythology really works. The fact that his own father regularly kills people for their skins horrifies him, as much as the regular massive uses of blood for Atzlanti power.

,,

He understands all too well the need to stop the Titans, hell, he feels like the hero of some of his fantasy writings and wants to protect the World... but Jake can't believe that maintaining the cosmos his pantheon's way involves effectively abusing and destroying those you nominally are supposed to defend.

,,

What makes matters worse? Jake has been told, often and by exasperated Gods and immortals, that blood is ultimately a necessity - and his fear that he might be doomed to require blood in time has created such a mental backlash that he has not developed any ability in Itzli at all... in fact he cannot do so, until Fate deems him to have sufficiently overcome his fear.

,,

Jake is otherwise, brave, committed, creative and friendly, except with the more fanatic of his kin. That inspires heated comments and shouting matches.

Interests: Jake is someone who likes to read, having a well-rounded interest in history, fiction, and stuff like Masterpiece Mystery Theater, cop and law shows, etc.

History: The beginning follows a classic pattern. Woman attends a lavish party thrown Gatsby-style by some bigwig in March. Woman meets male guest, falls in love with him. Man ends up marrying her, and vanishes mysteriously several weeks after the birth of their child.

,,

That served as a crushing blow to Angelina Petruzzi, whose sense of lost love and Catholic beliefs on marriage made her regard the whole affair as a painful and shaming time... but she still took care of her Jake. She remarried when Jake was four, to ad agency writer Ned Scavini.

,,

Jake took after his stepfather, inspired to write and be a creative individual. But dedicated titanspawn and Fate intended otherwise. Not too long ago, NYPD officers responded to reports of a brutal home invasion, to find the horribly mangled bodies of Ned and Angelina. Jake Petruzzi was missing, and the the linked investigation remain open cases.

,,

What had really happened, as Jake saw it, two sooty, scorched giants of men smash in, brutally pulverize his parents and advance on him, horrified, retreating, when a familiar-seeming man appeared out of nowhere, and departed with Jake, pulling him out of the deathtrap just in time.

,,

Outside, Jake realized why that man was familiar - he'd seen the photo of his birth, one last memory Angelina possessed of his biological father. Xipe Toltec summarized things as best he could, and then brought his now Visited son to Acopa for a brief stay of a week before they transferred him to Six Rivers.

,,

Ironically, by that time plenty were happy for him to leave. Jake had gotten plenty enough sense of what kind of individuals the new family of his was - with all the spilling of blood, capriciousness - especially his father, who had casually slain the man Xipe Toltec had worn the guise of for his skin.

,,

Jake has despite his clear tragedies, managed to keep a smile and a determination to defend the defenseless... like he and his lost parents once were when the fire giants came.

,,

[sharing this for comments, thoughts and constructive criticism. And fun... can't forget fun.]

[Grim]

Birth Name: Grimsley Algar
True Name: Grimsley Algar
Aliases: Grim
Calling: Cunning Magus
Known Relatives: The Aesir
Nature: Loner

Age: 16
Gender: Male
Ethnic Background: North European
Nationality: British
Height: 5’10
Weight: 140 lbs dripping wet
Eye Color: One glacial blue, the other deep green
Hair Color: Dark brown
Handedness: Left
Distinguishing Marks: Grim has a number of fine scars on his hands and forearms.


Appearance: Having recently grown taller but no broader, Grim is a lanky, raw-boned boy still very much waiting to fill out into young manhood. His face is lean and angular, the planes of his features hardened further by the seldom-wavering look of wry detachment he wears around others. He rarely smiles (and when he does it is rarely a pleasant smile) and his mismatched eyes and steady gaze are unnerving at best.

Personality: Grimsley’s persona matches his appearance. He is quiet, soft-spoken, and keeps his own counsel, preferring to be left alone whenever possible. He reinforces this solitude with acerbic wit and a softly unpleasant manner toward those he sees as ‘intruding’ upon him.

In truth, he is lonely, wishing he could reach out to someone but hamstrung by his insecure fear and utter distrust of the motives of others. His Visitation has not changed that overmuch: his father, the one who should care most about the youth, taught him only lessons of pain. So he drives people away, refusing to let them close enough to his person, or heart, to do him harm.

Interests: Studying the arcane and occult. Grim has known from an early age that he was born of a god, and lacking the size and strength to be a warrior he devoted himself to the battles of the mind. That said, he has been at the camp for long enough that his combat skills should not be underestimated. Not that he lets on that he’s become somewhat proficient, of course.

History:
Grimsley Algar has a perfect memory. He remembers every experience of his life. Most of all, he remembers his mother’s face. He remembers her green eyes and the tired smile she gave him before she closed those eyes forever.

,,

He was ten minutes old, and in her arms.

,,

His father whisked him away from the hospital and brought him to 6 Rivers camp, named him, then left. Grim spent the next 13 years being raised as a nascent Scion, never told who his father was beyond ‘one of the gods’, like most children of the camp. He was small, and skinny, and frail seeming despite the good diet, hard exercise and gruelling weapon practice mandated by the camp elders. He could barely lift a practice sword and shield, though seemed to cope better with staff or spear. His childhood was one of uphill struggle against stronger, more vigorous peers. The studying, on the other hand, though dry and boring to most was meat and drink to the starving mind of the young Scion-to-be. He would borrow tomes of lore and study into the night, his skinny frame showing surprising tirelessness in his pursuit of knowledge. His books and scrolls were his happiness, the satisfaction of outstripping his peers in this area his fortification against his loneliness. He became a solitary, withdrawn figure, occasionally either tormented by the cruel or approached by the kind. He kept his distance from both, and never let them see him cry, for cry he did when alone. Then came his 14^th birthday.

,,

Odin, it seems, did not have high hopes for his son. The boy was insightful and smart, truly, but he was also craven in the eyes of his divine father, lacking the spirit a warrior chief should possess. There was little point waiting for him to grow further: by Odin’s reckoning Grim was as ready as he could ever be. So a test was devised, a test that would make the young man, or else allow his father to wash his hands of him. Permanently.

,,

The order came down through the camp elders: Grim was to undertake a quest to obtain the heart’s wood of the oldest, mightiest oak in the Black Forest, and dedicate it to the gods. If he refused, he would be cast from the camp and never be recognised by his mysterious divine parent. To the boy, this was just further proof that the cosmos was malignantly misaligned. He was no outdoorsman, no hunter. But Odin had perhaps misjudged his get, for Grim would not go quietly and abandon his birthright. With stubborn resolve and no little fear, he agreed.

He was gone for a year and a half before he returned, and most assumed him dead.

,,

The details of the journey have not been told by Grim to anyone. All that is known around the camp is that he returned, not through normal means, but by simply walking from the woods one misty morning as all were breaking their fast. His clothing was tattered and worn, his hands and arms covered in hundreds of cuts. He was limping on a broken and hastily bandaged ankle, supporting himself with a rune-carved staff of wood so dark it appeared black and swathed in a too-big cloak. And he had changed. He stood taller, he was not as timid as before, though just as solitary. His gaze, always sharp and piercing, was now eerily knowing. And hadn't both of his eyes been green when he left? When asked to tell of his adventures, he demurred. “I found the oldest oak, I obtained the heartwood.” is all he says when questioned to this day, in his quiet voice. And then he meets his questioner’s eyes until they shift their gaze.

[Makaela "Mako" Kelly]

Birth Name: Makaela Cherie Kelly
Nick Names: Mako, Kaela
Aliases: None
Calling: Competitive Surfer
Known Relatives: Samantha and Dean Kelly (Mortal)
Nature: Bravo


Age: 16
Gender: Female
Ethnic Background: Caucasian
Nationality: Australian
Height: 5’ 8”
Weight: 144lbs
Eye Color: Blue-Green
Hair Color: Blonde(ish)
Handedness: Right
Distinguishing Marks: Large blue octopus tattoo on left hip and side

Appearance: Makaela isn't the most physically imposing young Scion; with sun-lightened hair, a wiry build, and sparkling turquoise eyes, she hardly looks the part of “divine warrior in the making.” She is, however, tall and visibly athletic, with the lean muscle mass of a competitor geared for stamina and agility, and an almost tangible force of personality that commands attention. Her attire is invariably casual, cut to allow maximum freedom of movement, and typically fashioned of durable, fast-drying materials. While most of her peers squeal over Jimmy Choos and Manolo Blahniks, her "collection" of footwear is paltry by comparison; whenever possible, she prefers to forgo shoes completely.

Personality: At heart, Makaela is a born thrillseeker, never satisfied with following a trail someone else has forged. She is intense, impetuous, and up for nearly anything that typically screams "impending disaster" to anyone with greater common sense or a lesser drive to push the boundaries of their own capabilities. She is cheerily brash, implausibly confident, and as explosively aggressive as the shark for which she was nicknamed when competing- or when pushed. Competitive as she is, Mako finds it difficult to back down from a challenge, or from a chance to test her abilities, and her directness can be off-putting to more sensitive souls. Still, her enthusiasm can be undeniably infectious, and her bravado is frequently backed by more than bluster.

Interests: Surfing, swimming, running, hiking, biking, fishing, climbing, playing guitar, and wrestling bears (there aren't any sharks in South Dakota).

History:

Makaela was a complete surprise. Samantha White had been quite a stunner as a teen, and did reasonably well running the pierside restaurant she'd inherited from her parents on Port Phillip Bay, so she'd never lacked for male companionship. She'd even dated the occasional older man now and again, for a change of pace and experience, but the brief fling she'd had with "Cy," a wiry, white-haired former shipwright who was probably one of those troublesome seniors people talked about escaping from retirement homes now and again, was nothing she'd ever have expected. She was still in her twenties, and he must have been over twice that, but (as she still remembers dreamily) he had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

When he disappeared, she thought little of it; Sam was a busy young woman with her whole life ahead of her. Two weeks later, she met Dean Kelly, a promising young architect from Melbourne, and fell promptly in love. Three weeks after that, she realized something wasn't quite right, and all of Sam's nebulous ideas about her future changed with one visit to her doctor. To his credit, Dean stuck by her side, though she never admitted to him that the child wasn't his. In later years, she'd wonder if he knew, but her gratitude and love for the man who married her proved stronger than any doubts or arguments about what truly made someone a parent. She believed with all her heart that it had to be more than simple biology, and Dean had proven in countless small ways that he really was Makaela's father.

As their young daughter grew, so too did her activity level. Instead of the manic energy of her toddler years waning, it waxed to implausible heights until her exhausted parents were hard-pressed just keeping up with her. She frustrated her teachers, ran roughshod over her schoolmates, and left Sam wondering if there was something seriously wrong with her child. They tried counseling, medication, behavioral therapy- nothing worked. One weekend, pushed beyond the brink of sanity by her daughter's uncontrollable temperament, she ordered Dean and Makaela into the car and drove down to the beach. It was an impulse, a spur-of-the-moment decision; she was so fed-up with her tempestuous offspring that she swore to herself if the 8 year-old wandered off while she nursed a drink in the sand she'd wait at least 24 hours before going to look for her.

While her parents tried to unwind, Makaela played. And played. And played. She splashed in the warm water. She chased the white foam as it ran up and down the sand. She ran, screaming with laughter, from the gulls that patrolled the shore. She skulked around the tidepools, studying the tiny creatures scuttling about inside. The day passed in a golden haze of crashing waves and rowdy families as Sam and Dean dozed in the sun, grateful to whatever gods were listening for a single afternoon of relative peace. Hours later, grimacing at the sensitivity of their sun-baked skin, the two roused themselves reluctantly to see where their daughter had gotten off to. Immediately, Sam's earlier thoughts came back to haunt her: Makaela was nowhere to be seen.

Ignoring all else, she ran down the beach, screaming her daughter's name- only to find her perfectly safe amid a crowd of teens who'd perched her on a surfboard one was holding in the shallows. They were joking about making her their mascot. Stunned, she watched how still, how quiet the child was, marked the expression of intense focus and concentration as her baby girl worked to keep her balance on the colored length of fiberglass bobbing in the water. She couldn't believe it. She'd never seen her daughter so calm before, and, in desperation, she decided to go with it.

First came the swimming lessons. After a terrifying start when Makaela ran past the instructor and the other kids to jump in the pool, things went faster than Sam could've ever imagined; teaching the girl to swim turned out to be much like teaching a canary to sing. Her parents couldn't keep her out of the water, even at home, when she thereafter wanted to take baths twice a day. From swimming she progressed to surfing, and then from surfing to competing, and before anyone realized it, she was winning junior surf events all over southern Australia. Her aggressive, energetic style earned her a nickname from one of the announcers- laughing as the fourteen year-old charged a wave, he called her "Mako," and it quickly caught on.

In the years since that first impromptu trip to the beach, her parents marveled at the fact that her energy hadn't faded at all, but had instead become focused like a laser beam on being the best surfer in the country. She went from being a healthy, pleasantly chubby youngster to a lean, toned adolescent that bore little resemblance to the whirlwind that had ruled their lives. Surfing wasn't the only thing that interested her, though: she attacked every challenge with the same headstrong assurance that she showed the crashing waves, taking up half a dozen other activities just for the thrill she got in trying them.

Just after her sixteenth birthday, Makaela came home from school to hear shouting from inside. A strange man was in her house, and her mother was furious about something- what, the girl had no idea. What she did know was that when he turned around, this white-haired man with eyes as deep and turbulent as the sea- when he looked at her, something clicked. She knew, somehow, that this strange old man- not Dean- was her father, and as old as he looked, he was much, much older.

They talked, quietly, as Sam cried, sobbing out the grief of sixteen years of love and lies, and then he took her away. She could never remember how they traveled, and afterward only had a dim recollection of where they went: it was, she thinks now, like being inside a house whose walls were made of enormous aquariums. It was, and to date remains, the most beautiful place she'd ever seen. True to her nature, she never once showed fear in the face of all the strangeness and wonder. They talked again, for a long while, and her father asked her a seemingly endless litany of questions about her life so far: What were her parents like? What did she do? Did she enjoy school? Had it been difficult for her? On and on it went, until it seemed to her there was nothing left for him to know. Eventually, she had questions of her own: Why? Why had he left them? Why had he never come back? Why now?

In answer, he told her what she was, and why she was needed. He told her of the war that was even then raging, a war that would claim her as an unwitting casualty if they didn't move quickly. It wasn't enough, not by half, but he promised her more answers, later.

If she survived.

He sent her home, then, and when she arrived, her parents were making preparations for dinner. They greeted her, bewilderingly, as if she'd just come home from school. A courier had brought a thin cardboard envelope while she was gone, and inside was a pamphlet for a place in the States called Six Rivers with an accompanying invitation for her to attend and "realize her unique potential." Both of them seemed baffled by its meaning, and Makaela realized that her mother either didn't remember what had happened, or refused to acknowledge it. Either way, her days of competing with her friends, of cruising up and down the beaches of southern Australia in search of the perfect wave, were soon to be over.

[z-Tintaya Allauca]

Birth Name: Tintaya Allauca, Scion of Erzulie
Nick Names: The Alpaca Chick, Despiadado (name given by miners in Peru)
Aliases: None
Calling: Driven Assassin
Known Relatives: Father: Huitzilopochtli, aka Alejo de la Cruz; no paternal grandparents
Mother: Chaska Allauca; Maiqui Allauca, stepfather; half-siblings: Taki, Inti, Fauacuaipa, Usuy, Wayna, Uchu (all deceased)
Pantheon: Loa
Nature: Fanatic

Age: 16 (DoB: December 2)
Gender: Female
Ethnic Background: Quechua
Nationality: Peruvian
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 101
Eye Color: Black
Hair Color: Black
Handedness: Right
Distinguishing Marks:

Language: Quechua [native], Spanish, English

Appearance: Tintaya is small and petite due to a subsistence diet living high in the Andes. She's not frail but is not as tall as she could be, either. She's put on another inch or two since coming to the camp, but she still looks like she needs a sandwich. Her hair and eyes are both dark, with the latter being large and expressive (she's trying to learn to captivate people with them).

Personality: The native Peruvian is hard to get a handle on, for many people. She's always polite, but she never reaches out to the other students--unless they take an interest in her alcapa herd or her weaving. It is only when caring for her herd or doing the native handicraft of her people that Tintaya comes to life, losing the distant expression to her eyes. She never speaks of her family, or where they are now. She also doesn't speak about the skull she carries in her bag.
Interests: Tintaya has few interests outside of honing her skills and her alpaca herd. She usually has needles, hooks or a small loom with her, to work on her weaving when she has a moment.

History: Tintaya is largely unknown to most members of the camp. She’s been there for roughly nine months, and in that time, she’s displayed a good deal of skill at fighting with knives and minor skill at other forms of combat. She’s pretty enough to garner attention, yet she’s made no effort to get to know any boys or girls. She refuses to talk about her history or where she comes from. A conversation with her leaves you feeling like you spoke to her, but that most of the conversation was about you, not her.

Her house has an altar and those who are familiar with ancestor worship notice that she has a lot of idols on her altar. Aside from when Erzulie left her at the camp, she’s had no visitors come to see her. It’s rumored that she killed her entire family, and that the skull she carries in her bag is her father’s head. Another rumor places her as adopted by Erzulie but doesn’t name her actual divine parent.

[Corbin Black]

Birth Name: Corbin Dionekou
Nick Names: Corbin Black
Aliases: None
Calling: Warrior Prince
Known Relatives: Mother (Adriana Dionekou)
Nature: Competitor

Age: 17
Gender: Male
Ethnic Background: Mediterranean
Nationality: American
Height: 6’
Weight: 190 lbs.
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Black
Handedness: Left
Distinguishing Marks: None. Corbin’s body doesn’t possess any real scars or blemishes. He has a tendency to convert particularly heinous wounds into less damaging bruises and sprains.

Appearance: At six foot and a muscular one hundred and ninety pounds, Corbin is handsome, but not supernaturally so. He inherited his father's raven black hair and earth-toned brown eyes, but unlike Hades he keeps his hair usually pulled back and into a tightly bound ponytail and eschews facial hair, keeping himself neatly groomed.

He dresses as one would expect of a rich kid: in expensive name brands and designer labels. He prefers casual jeans and button down shirts with some colored t-shirt underneath it (usually black) although khakis and assorted tank tops are not uncommon for him.

Personality: Corbin was raised for a singular purpose: to fight a war. It shows in everything about the boy, from his physique to his education and training. He takes his ‘duties’ as a Scion very seriously and pays all the gods of every pantheon the proper respect they are due. He tends to take great offense when people make jokes about or insult the gods- especially their own Scions.

Corbin, like all those of the Dodekatheon, is extremely competitive. It isn't because he wants to be better than everyone else, but because is constantly seeking to improve who he is and expand on his capabilities. He will spar, practice and train one technique for days or weeks until he feels he’s mastered it. When people beat him, he doesn’t get angry with them and accepts loss graciously. What happens next, though, is that he consistently asks the person for a rematch or to spend the day training with him; they usually end up more exhausted by his perseverance than the actual exercise until, of course, he feels he’s overcome the flaw that allowed him to be defeated. He’s very fond of Bruce Lee’s axiom “then die” when people claim they are too tired to go on or can’t do something due the feeling it’s beyond their ability.

He’s a know-it-all (seriously, he has the knack), after spending years absorbing all the cultural and mythological knowledge the world has available to battle the titanspawn. As a result, many of his peers consider him to be a bit sheltered and prideful, and he tends to take on the role of self-appointed educator to the point where people are just tired of hearing him talk. His lectures on the Trojan War are legendary in Camp 6 Rivers; one tale has him preaching for eleven hours to a crowd who’d fallen asleep ten hours before.

Corbin is, if you can see past his pride and Greek arrogance, actually quite an affable guy. With a charming smile and witty demeanor, he has the makings of a guy who could easily be the life of a party were he not so sheltered and single-minded in his devotion to the cause of the Gods. Unfortunately, this means that he tends to have no social capability when it comes to women that he A) has a crush on, or engage in even idle flirtation with him. The result is a confused young man who doesn’t know what to say. While stammering and stuttering in response to such a situation, he will almost invariably blurt out some random factoid or tidbit of trivia without thinking- which usually has the effect of confusing the girl, or at least distracting her long enough for him to either escape or turn the conversation in a safer direction.

,,

He is the personification of duty and the model (he feels) for how a Scion should present himself. Corbin’s biggest weakness is that he is nothing more than a walking, talking automaton for the gods. He has never had a life of his own or been allowed to live a life free of everyone else's expectations. His ability to think outside the box (or for himself) seems limited.

Interests: All Corbin does is train. His entire life is practice for the inevitable war he will be called to (he hopes) some day. When not sparring or training, he tries to find a few quiet moments where he can practice sculpture. He dabbles in everything from clay, to stone, to some metalworking; his affinity for the earth and its gifts grants him a measure of calm when he takes up such a project.

History: Adriana Dionekou had one advantage over most mortal parents of Scions: she knew exactly what her child was going to be the moment he was conceived.

From the moment he was old enough, Corbin was trained to become the legend he was destined to be. Pampered and coddled like a prince, he was rewarded with excess when he performed well and reduced to Spartan accommodations when he performed poorly. Education was vitally important as was martial training, and like a monk he spent every moment of every day perfecting his required arts and coming to understand who he was and why he was important for the world's future.

Hades informed Adriana one day (via e-mail, of course) that she was to send Corbin away to a Camp named Six Rivers where he could complete his training, but he must travel alone. When you're ten years old a nine hundred and fifty six mile journey is not something you'd look forward to, but after Corbin heard what he must do from his mother (via email, of course) he strapped on a pack, picked up a map and was on his way. Forty six days later he arrived at the camp looking like he's walked through Hell and back again. Like Grim, he's never really spoken of it and didn't return any sort of souvenirs or trophy's from the trek. It's always seemed like it was a vision quest, just something he had to do and the lessons learned on that trek were his and his alone to know.

,,

Corbin is a 'lifer', which means lives at the camp full time but on occasion will leave for a few weeks or so to visit his mother in Seattle.

[Corbin Black]

Later I'll be working on a Six Rivers post that'll describe the camp and the environs. For now, a few things to consider is that this is just like a summer camp. There are cabins where the characters bunk and they do it co-ed (with separate baths). In each section of the camp (dedicated to their respective pantheons) each god is granted a cabin that serves two purposes. First it functions as a small shrine or temple (remember, Gods need legend just like you) where those therein are expected to pay some measure of homage to their patron. Second, it serves as a place for all the Scions of that particular deity to call home.

,,

Keep in mind populations levels are far from over crowded, some of you might have whole cabin to yourself (your parent has either not sired recently, or their Scions have perished) and some of you might be sharing a cabin that has several Scions in it simply because your patron is very active. The camp has about 150 Scions or so, plus the PCs. (Divide that among 6 Pantheons, then the numbe rof Gods in each Pantheon, and there's not a problem getting a prime bunk).

,,

Each of the cabins is themed for that Pantheon and the God to which it is dedicated to. The Pesedjet cabins have an Egyptian look and are decorated like one might expect a temple dedicated to that particular gad might look, the Aesir cabins look like medieval Scandinavian long houses, I shouldn't have to tell you what the Greek cabins look like ( a lot of pillars and marble) etc... Remember that this is your heritage and it's in these places that you feel the most 'at home'. Even if you don't particularly like your parent, the culture to which you belong (adopted or no) resonates with you.

[z-Tintaya Allauca]

This information is good to know. I changed the details in Any Excuse; the party is being held outside/in/around the Dionysus cabin.

,,

How much say do we get in the makeup of the cabin and our same-patron Scion NPCs?

[Hyoseph]

Thinking I would like to get in on this once I get reliable computer access.

Considering one of the Loa possibly Samedi or Kalfu

[SalmonMax]

Name: Ariel Cole
Calling: Student
Nature: Rebel
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Ethnic Background: Greek
Nationality: English
Height: 5' 5"
Weight: 127lbs
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Hair Color: Brown
Handedness: Right
Distinguishing Marks: Tattoo in the shape of a crescent moon between shoulderblades, looks like a birthmark. Three parallel scarlines running down her right hip down the outside of her thigh for several inches.

Appearance:
Ariel is a very pretty girl and could be prettier if she tried to be. She has little patience for affectation though, and doesn't wear anything beyond lip balm on her face, which leaves her at the mercy of a fading case of acne and slightly blotchy skin tone. Her eyes are big and expressive though, and the shape of her face quite endearing with its strong jawline coupled with soft curves of cheeks, lips and nose. She still has some of her adolescent scrawniness hovering around her, but she's started to fill out a bit despite her athleticism.

Her wardrobe is as functional as her makeup selection, focusing on T-shirts, tanktops and either shorts or jeans, depending on weather. She has a nice dress she bought with her mom's advice as well, but it's kind of formal. Most of what she owns is rugged and made to last, like safari clothes. She favors earth tones; browns and greens and cream-flavored whites.

Personality:
Ariel has a lot of focus, and her intensity can be offputting sometimes. She needs friends to pull her down and remind her to relax and have fun. She is generous and friendly to those who have earned her friendship but is distant, even cold, to others. Her tenacity is nigh-legendary both for its good aspects and bad. Ariel does not give up, ever...but she is bullheaded and resistant to advice and authority as well. She has several interests, shaped a great deal by her parents. She loves the outdoors and going camping with her dad, but she's interested in history and mythology too from her long talks with her mom. She has no idea what she wants to do yet though and is getting sensitive about it.

She is still angry and resentful over the circumstances of her awakening, feeling that her friends and family were put in danger as part of some kind of stupid 'test,' and that she's been drafted into a war against her will. That said, she understands the stakes and is willing to fight...but prefers to fight on her own terms, in her own way.

History:
Ariel is actually born of the god Apollo and one of the mortal handmaidens of Artemis in an arranged 'marriage' that was specifically intended to create a scion who would be dedicated from birth to be Adopted by the goddess. While still an infant she received the mark of Artemis on her back between her shoulderblades; a tattoo like a birthmark of a crescent moon.

Following her birth she was fostered by a pair of parents carefully selected by Artemis' cult in advance, though they were not aware of the nature of the baby they took custody of. Handmaids watched the family constantly, as nannies and babysitters, teachers and friends. Making sure Artemis' daughter was safe, and watching for signs that might indicate she was ready for Visitation.

Ariel's foster mother is a professor of ancient history at a university, and had once been an archeologist. Her father was a botanist, but called himself a 'naturalist,' and had a love of the outdoors that manifested with frequent trips hiking and camping. He had no hate of technology, but loved the feeling of accomplishment that came from living 'off the grid' when on such trips. He liked going without a tent or matches and giving himself challenges. Ariel thought he was nuts, but she went along with him more than once and learned a lot...including how much she liked tents and matches.

It was on one such trip that things went disastrously awry, and the next chapter of Ariel's life began.

What started off an innocent white-water rafting trip with her dad and some friends turned into a horror show in which unseen terrors stalked them, gradually revealing themselves as monsters that had no place in a world ruled by reason. With her father injured early on, Ariel suffered a nightmarish several days lost in the deep woods; trying to get everyone to safety.

At one point a maddened bear attacked her while she was foraging, and Ariel managed to drive it away with a lucky rock that injured one of its eyes. In the process though it had clawed her badly along the right hip. She was delirious with pain and blood loss before she could make it back to camp. In her dazed state she saw a strange shrine on the mountainside that hadn't been there before. Pulling herself inside to get shelter from a gathering storm, she saw suspended in a blue flame a silver bow with a single silver arrow attached to the staff.

Feeling it was somehow meant for her, she took the bow, then saw to her wounded side as best she could. When Ariel finally returned, she realized the bear-thing was attacking the camp now, even wounded. The others were doing their best, but it was obviously going to go badly. So she put the arrow to the bow and called out to the bear. It wheeled around and saw her, and charged.

Her arrow took its other eye and plunged into its brain.

The Visitation took place afterwards, when Ariel spied the same shrine the bow had been in again, this time on the way home from school one day. No one else seemed to take notice of it. Within, Ariel found Artemis waiting for her. She did not like a great deal of what the goddess had to say, but in the wake of the ill-fated trip she'd gotten through, it was hard to refute. She wasn't alone in dealing with her parents either. The priestesses of Artemis, the handmaids, showed themselves at last and were already talking to her foster parents when she got home.

In the end, the conclusion everyone reached was for Ariel to attend the Six Rivers...for the safety not only of herself, but her family as well.

[z-Tintaya Allauca]

I need three volunteers for a shearing fiction. Essentially, Tin's alpaca need to be sheared and she will need three other people to help her wrangle them. If I don't get three, I'll fill out a spot or all of them with an NPC (and if it's all NPC, I'll probably just skip it and mention that it was done in another post).

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My volunteers need to have expressed an IC interest in the alpaca before (either by loitering around the pen excessively or being very curious about them or both) and being wiling to accept alpaca fiber or a meal in exchange for work. OOC, I'm asking that the players be wiling to post at least twice a week to keep things moving.

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If you're interested, I swear I'll keep the shearing stuff mostly to my own posts, and this will largely be a social fic plus whatever hijinks we might decide to engage in. To put your name in the hat, just reply to this message and indicate you're interested. To be upfront: I've already pegged Mala to join this fic, assuming that she's got her PC together. But the other three are open to those who are interested. If I get more than three, I'll pick and choose based on maximum hijinks.

[Jake Petruzzi]

I'm for it. Jake may have gone and wanted to see them out of curiosity, and Tintaya uses it as an reason to convince him to help... a meal is something he'd accept.

[Atticus Kontos]

Okay Atticus is finished and sent off to Dave for approval! Hopefully I'll hear back from him soon so I can start posting, I'm missing a party dammit!

[Atticus Kontos]

Birth Name: Atticus Kontos
Nick Names: None
Aliases: None
Calling: Modern Day Warrior-Hero
Known Relatives: Astarte Kontos (Mother)
Nature: Perfectionist

Age: 18
Gender: Male
Ethnic Background: Greek
Nationality: Greek
Height: 6
Weight: 172 lb.
Eye Color: Hazel
Hair Color: Black
Distinguishing Marks: None
Appearance: While Atticus doesnt have the classic golden locks or blue eyes that most of Apollos children inherit from their father, he is still a handsome boy. With his raven black hair and his bright green eyes, he is quite the looker. Atticus body is strong and athletic; he is not bulky with muscle like the Scions of Ares but lithe with a defined musculature.

Personality: At his core, Atticus is a decent person. He has a strong sense of justice, both personal and societal, but that is tempered with an equally strong belief in Karma, or Divine Retribution; that all men must pay the price of their actions. This manifests in Atticus as an urge to help those who cannot help themselves, protect the weak from bullies, and to see wrongdoers get their just rewards. Like all of Apollos children, Atticus is adept at social interaction and most knew him to be a friendly and outgoing charmer. He has what it takes to be a leader but has so far shied away from taking on such a roll with his peers. Since his encounter with the Nemean Serpent, he has become withdrawn and entirely focused his training. He has given up all activities that he considers frivolous and often urges others to take the dangers they will all soon be facing more seriously.

Interests: Atticus is clearly a jock. He played soccer growing up in Greece, but enjoyed swimming, rock climbing, gymnastics, wrestling and any other physical activity that kept him outdoors. He was also a normal kind in that he enjoyed music, cars and video games. All the things kids his age were in to. Atticus has taken to the arts of war like a fish to water. He is a superb swordsman and excels at both hand to hand and ranged combat. Since the encounter with the Nemean Serpent, Atticus spends all his time training.

History: Atticus was 10 when he found out that he was not a normal child. Up to that point hed grown up happy and healthy to a loving single mother. He loved being outdoors in the sun. He played soccer, swam in the Mediterranean, climbed rocks, anything that involved physical activity. When she felt the time was right, his mother explained that she followed the old faith of the Greek Gods; Apollo specifically, and that Apollo had blessed her by fathering a child by her. She explained that one day he would do great things and be a hero to the world.

10 year old Atticus took this declaration surprisingly well. He asked a few questions, like where was his dad and why hadnt he met him. He asked if he would get super powers, and other questions that seemed of great importance to a 10 year old. His mother did her best to answer openly and honestly and finally, when his curiosity was satisfied, he asked if he could go back outside and play.

Several days later a handsome blond haired American named Jonathan showed up and informed the boy and his mother he was the boys new tutor. He confided in the boy that he too was a child of Apollo and that he was supposed to prepare Atticus, although he wouldnt or couldnt say what he was preparing him for. The next 2 years saw Atticus learn rudimentary skills in the sciences and other academic skills, Medicine, the Arts (particularly singing) and Marksmanship.

Atticus wondered just what he was being trained for, and two years later, he got a brief glimpse of it. Mortal cultists serving the Titans discovered Atticus and attempted to kill him before he could come into his divine heritage, but they were thwarted by Jonathan. Astarte and John decided that even though Apollo had yet to manifest for the boy, it was in his best interests to move him to a safe location. Atticus packed his few belongings, bid him mother goodbye, and made the long trip to Six Rivers.

Atticus fit in well at the camp, despite not having his full scion powers, and easily fell into the training routine. 3 years passed and on his 15th birthday it finally happened; Apollo revealed himself to his son. It was an awkward meeting between mortal boy and immortal father. Atticus had many questions, none of which his father seemed inclined to answer. For his part Apollo made it quite clear that Atticus purpose and destiny was to be an agent of the Greek gods on earth. If he accepted this role Apollo would gift him with his divine birthright, otherwise he would have to leave the camp and live the mundane life of a mortal. Of course Atticus agreed although not without some hurt feelings.

Life continued on much as before although now Atticus training began in earnest. He developed his divinely wrought abilities alongside his normal skills and has become a truly fearsome warrior. 6 months ago, word spread of a great and terrible serpent, a Nemean Beast, was making its way towards the camp, leaving destruction in its wake. Four of the camp councilors volunteered to stop the beast and three students were allowed to fight also. Atticus was one of them. The battle was terrible and lasted a day and a night. In the end the serpent was felled, the killing stroke delivered by Atticus himself, but the fight was not without cost. One of the Councilors and both of the other students perished in the fight.

Atticus and the other survivors were heralded as heroes upon their return and a sword was even fashioned for Atticus by Todd the Cyclops utilizing parts of the beast itself. The event was the catalyst for a drastic change Atticus however. Gone was the outgoing boy who could befriend anyone and in his place was a young man driven by his experience to become better and greater. He has become sullen and withdrawn with only harsh words for those who try to draw him out or distract him from his training , which he takes to obsessive levels now.

[Dave ST]

Wanna help?

Do what Carver is doing and help me populate the camp. One of my largest snags right now is trying to populate a camp with interesting people while pulling 12 hour shifts. Make some people up, post a name and a brief description and I'll do the rest.

Gods: Think of someone, a model, a celebrity, just a guy you know, a musician. List their name and I'll look em up.

While not all ideas may get used, there are rewards for putting forth the effort (a little extra if it gets used). HAVE FUN and go nuts.

Post the names here or message me.

[Nadya Lunălescu]

Bastet: Claudia Lynx.

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[Jake Petruzzi]

As referenced here...

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Maria Azulejo, Scion of Quetzalcoatl

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[Dave ST]

I fucking hate Disney. I can't think of anyone for Hades except James Woods.

[Atticus Kontos]

Oddly enough, I see Neil Gaiman

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May I present Hades?

[Nadya Lunălescu]

Might I also suggest Alan Fucking Rickman for Hades?

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Or...

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[Grim]

"That's the second time you've spoken out of turn, Mister Algar. Five more points from the Aesir for your being an insufferable know-it-all."

[Vivi OOC]

Poseidon:

[Atticus Kontos]

lol, I just watched that!

[Dave ST]

You just watched Allan Rickman? He know you're stalking him?

[Jordan]

It's a thing between us...

[Vivi OOC]

[Nadya Lunălescu]

For Thrud, may I suggest Katheryn Winnick?

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[Grim]

Odin:

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[Kolani]

Dionysus?

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[Vivi OOC]

Have you decided to join 6R?

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Also, yes, Jeff Bridges is actually most of the gods.

[Atticus Kontos]

Okay I can't help this... Odin when he's gender bending?

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[Grim]

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Also, yes, Jeff Bridges is actually most of the gods.

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I call dibs by virtue of First!

[Dave ST]

It's official, when it comes to divinity, it's six degrees of Jeff Bridges.

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Jeff Bridges was 'dibbed' for Posiedon's 'Dude' form. When he's in the World on a non-official capacity.

[Grim]

Some things stay in chat, that happen in chat.

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Other things have to be shared:

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Revenant: "...Taya is just a sexual avalanche and he's sking like mad to get away from it. She's like a box of sexual FUCKBLAMO waiting to go off in his pants."

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Gold.

[Vivi OOC]

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Grim's destiny revealed!

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"Would you care to take a look at this season's catalog?"