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 Sniggle's character Vomit

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Do I look like a panda?
Roar
9%
 9% [ 3 ]
Yes you do.
13%
 13% [ 4 ]
Sniggle, you creep me out.
16%
 16% [ 5 ]
Lalalalala
9%
 9% [ 3 ]
SNIGGLE I LOVE YOU YOU CRAZYASS PANDA!
53%
 53% [ 17 ]
Total Votes : 32
 

AuthorMessage
Sniggle
Mega Asshole Duo


Posts : 2025
Join date : 2011-11-12
Age : 22
Location : Dream Weavers

PostSubject: Sniggle's character Vomit   Sat Nov 12, 2011 7:21 pm

YOU JUST GOT

PUNK'D! <3





Spoiler:
 

Come on baby, quit your dreamin'
Get your things, the train is leavin'

Come on baby, time is wastin'
choose a wheel and get to racin'


Name: Charlie Henderson (Charlene Isaacs)

Age/Birthday: 15 years old. Born December 7th, 1996

Gender: Female

God Parent: Hermes, god of travel, commerce, and thievery.

Claimed: Yes.

Mortal Family: (mother)Julia and (Step father)Randall Isaacs, as well as ("father")Joshua Henderson.

Years in Camp: none. She just recently arrived.

Brief History: Charlene Henderson was born in Allegheny General Hospital in Pittsburgh, PA during the early morning hours. She grew up in a small townhouse with her mother, at the time known as Julia Henderson, and who she believed to be her father, Joshua Henderson. She was very fond of both her parents and even though they had little money, she was happy. What Charlene didn't know was that Julia had cheated on Joshua one night with Hermes, which had resulted in her birth.

Josh and Julia had argued a lot over it, but never in front of Charlene. Sometimes she would listen through the door as a child, and try to make sense of what they said. But she never quite understood what happened.

As Charlene grew older, she found that she was different than her friends and other kids. She struggled to read and write, and maintain her grades. She found pleasure in stirring up trouble, and would be regularly caught stealing candy from her teacher's desk or money from her mother's purse. As Charlene's behavior grew worse, Julia became stressed. Joshua and Julia argued more, over stupid things like who would pick up Charlene after a detention or who would get the groceries.

The house grew increasingly intense. Julia came home less frequently, and spent her nights off somewhere else. Charlene and Joshua became increasingly concerned, and one day Joshua decided to follow Julia out. He discovered that she was having yet another affair, this time with a tall, wealthy man by the name of Randall Isaacs. Enraged by the betrayal, he went home. He packed his things to leave, throwing clothes, money, all personal belongings in bags and suitcases. Charlene was too afraid to ask him what was going on, so she watched him walk out the door in silence.

When Julia returned, Charlene explained how daddy had up and left. Julia said good riddance, and didn't seem to really care. It angered Charlene. After that, Randall started coming to the house and Julia dated him openly. Charlene treated them with hostility. She hated being around the two of them. When Randall proposed at the dinner table one night, and Julia accepted, Charlene stormed to her room. She refused to talk to either of them after that.

A few days before the wedding, Charlene left the house. She took some money from Randall's jeans(which he would carelessly throw on the floor in the hall) and from Julia's purse(Charlene refused to call her mother after Joshua left) and used it to take a bus into the city. She wanted to find Josh, whom she still believed to be her dad.

She spent a few days on her own, wondering around in search of her father when she came across a wood nymph while sleeping on a park bench. They had a conversation, and the nymph explained that Charlie(the nymph mispronounced her name) must be a half-blood based on what Charlene said about herself(and also the sheer fact that they were having a conversation.) She described a home for half-bloods like Charlie as a camp in New York. Charlene was rather skeptical about the whole demi-god, greek mythology thing but was tired of sleeping in the cold. So she collected money(pick-pocketed a few people here, scammed a few people there) until she could take a train to New York. On her way she found herself noticing things she hadn't before: galloping centaurs, wood nymphs playing with satyrs in the trees, etc.) and found herself believing the nymph's story more and more.

Since the nymph had mistakenly called her Charlie, she kept that new name, considering it a new identity for a new beginning in her life as an apparent "demi-god," even though she still didn't think Joshua nor Julia were greek gods.

After a struggling and exhausting journey, Charlie made her way to Camp Half-blood and joined the Hermes cabin as an unclaimed child.

Physical Appearance: Charlie is not very tall or big at all. She stands at just slightly over 5 feet tall and has a slender, skinny body, weighing somewhere around 90 pounds. She's got mid-shoulder blade length, dark brown hair that she generally keeps in a loose/messy bun, with side-swept bangs. Her head is oval shaped with a somewhat pointed, feminine chin and high cheek bones. She has fair skin and large, gray-blue eyes with a brown mole just under the corner of the left one. Her eyebrows are thin and she's got an curved, rounded nose. Her lips are thin as well and rather pale. She could be a rather attractive girl if she tried to be, but she doesn't really care to please the public. Her figure is usually hidden in baggy sweatshirts that are two or three times oversized guy's cargo shorts or pants that she needs a belt to keep up, and her hair is in a messy bun because pony-tails and buns are all she knows how to do. Charlie constantly has a smile plastered to her face and she usually radiates with happiness. But those with sharpened senses can usually see the glimmer of mischief and amusement in her eyes.

Personality: Don't be fooled by Charlie's innocent and childish look; she's extremely cunning and mischievous. She's capable of fighting, but she's better at sitting back and planning things out, as a schemer. When need be, she can be very calm and level-headed...Grace under pressure, in a sense. But if the world isn't coming to an end then she's very bouncy, childish, and random. Incredibly affable. Like all others she is judgmental, but even if she thinks someone is weird she'll talk to them. She's very open and sociable, with a decent sense of humor. She can be sarcastic sometimes, but never in a hurtful way. She tends to have a free-spirit and think optimistically. The only thing that tends to get her down is when family is mentioned. But even then she tries to ignore it and be happy. She's not very easy to anger or upset, which makes her easy bubbly and easy to be around. This means she can make acquaintances rather easily, but she has yet to really find any best friends. People come and go, she's realized, and that's mostly fine. A fact of life that she thinks she can accept, but it also means that when someone tries to get close to her, she doesn't realize it or make any attempt to increase a relationship. This is a huge contributing factor to why she's single. When people are interested in her, she either doesn't notice or doesn't care. She can also be impatient. If the matter is incredibly important, she can wait. But if she's in a long line for a carnival ride, she's going to try practically everything to get in the front. In this way she's terrible to have on long car trips. If she's hungry, everyone stops right then to get food, or if she texts someone they had better text back within about 2 minutes or she'll get incredibly antsy and bored. Needless to say, she can't stand texting.


Fatal Flaw: Charlie is extremely stubborn and holds grudges for an incredibly long time. When she hates you, she really hates you. She also has a hard time being loyal. If a wrong side and a right side are presented, she'll join whichever side gives her the most perks. This being said, she tends to only look out for herself and the few people she holds close to her. When she finds out that Hermes is her true father and Joshua and her mother lied to her, she won't be holding anyone close to her for a long time. She also rarely admits that she's wrong...she might feel bad but you'll rarely hear her apologize.

Pets: None.

Talents: Charlie has a knack for lock-picking and sneaking into places unnoticed. She also has a thing for going on joy-rides in "borrowed" vehicles. She may not have her license, but she has gotten rather skilled at driving.

Weapons: Charlie usually keeps three weapons on her. One is a knife with a 3-inch titanium blade and leather sheath that she keeps concealed in her sweatshirt(there are two small leather bands attached to the sheath that she can wrap and buckle around her forearm) and the other two are a set of twin machetes with celestial bronze blades that she named Lycus(Wolf) and Leon(Lion).

Year-Round or Summer: Year round. She'd rather be eaten by Cerberus than have to go home to Randall and Julia. Well, maybe not, but she still very much dislikes them.

Other: Charlie has a major addiction to gambling and energy drinks, and would love to play an instrument. If she had a theme song it would be Been Caught Stealing by Jane's Addiction. She introduces herself as Charlie Henderson to everyone, never Charlene Isaacs. She occasionally wonders if her mom looked for her when she left.

Relationships according to Charlie:
Rory - Seems alright. Still wanna know about his leg, though.
Phil - Not sure what to think. He's kind of quiet. I don't think he likes me. But I know he likes plants!
Lexi - This girl is so annoying, I just really want to punch her in the throat.
Jason - Pffft, this guy is the epitome of grumpy. No, no, no, no! Bro, say yes and have some fun every now and again. Loosen up a bit.
Ceres - She understands me so well! I sense a new best friend.
Torin - Ah, the doctor is in! I don't know him, but he seems kind of wimpy. Doesn't matter, though. He makes a decent doc.

---



I don't have to leave anymore
What I have is all here

Spend my nights and days before
Searching the world for what's right here


Name: Torin C. Holt

Age/Birthday: 17 years old. Born July 12th, 1994

Gender: Male

God Parent: Asclepius, god of medicine and healing

Claimed: Yes.

Mortal Family: (mother)Robyn Holt.

Years in Camp: Just short of a year.

Brief History: Torin grew up without a father. His mother was married once, but she lost her husband, Simon Holt, to a car crash several years before. The loss instilled a deep fear in her, as well as a need to protect those she loves. As a result, Torin was relatively sheltered. Because he was a demigod Robyn restricted him from having the freedoms that many other kids his age had. He didn't go to parties, didn't get to drive with his friends, didn't go anywhere that any bad things could happen.

Torin's greatest companion was usually a book and a blanket. He loved his mother, but being a teenage boy meant he didn't really want to hang out with her all the time. That's not to say they didn't get along, but Torin preferred to do most things himself or with the few acquaintances he had.

This crave for independence led him to be, well, just that. He's capable of surviving on his own, and doesn't need his mother to do everything for him. He did, however, need her to drive him to Camp Half Blood when he was 16 and the monsters started making frequent trips to his home and school. When the monsters showed up, Torin was immediately pulled out and his life was changed. His biggest regret was that he had to drop out of his EMS volunteer work. Working with nurses, doctors, and paramedics always made him feel at ease, and helping people made him feel like he had control in his own life, even if his mother demanded most of it. It was his go-to place when he felt alone, unnecessary, or just upset in general.

Luckily when he said goodbye to his mom and hello to Camp Half Blood, he found that they were in need of those with a knowledge of first aid. Not to say he's happy that campers get hurt all the time. He's just happy that he can be of use, and still has a place to go when he's feeling crappy. Plus, chicks dig caring guys who save lives. That's always a plus.

Physical Appearance: Torin shows the stereotypical traits of a Scandinavian with his fair skin and wavy blonde hair, though instead of blue eyes they are a grayish-green. He is somewhat tall, standing around 5'10 with a lean figure. He has some muscle, but he doesn't generally show them off because he doesn't fight that often. But when he does get to fight and show of, he tends to be shirtless. Maybe ladies would be impressed by this if he actually talked to them outside of the infirmary. He's got the body. Not so much the smooth personality. He likes to wear simple things, like solid colored shirts and jeans. He also wears bermuda shorts and cargo pants, as well as the occasional v-neck. And he loves his zip-up hoodies.

Personality: Quiet. Torin is quiet. He's a sweet guy, warm and polite to everyone, including those he doesn't particularly enjoy the company of. Torin likes to keep to himself a lot, because in all honesty, people scare him. They can have a vicious way with words, and Torin doesn't like when he's who people are talking about. Due to some grade school gossip and bullying, Torin is paranoid of people talking about him. If he hears whispering or laughing from behind, he assumes it's about him and he panics. It's part of the reason he likes to help people. He does it because a.) he's a good guy and likes helping people, b.) it's a stress reliever for him and others, and c.) deep down he thinks it'll earn him a good name, and so he won't be harassed.

He's a follower, not a leader, and doesn't stick up for himself. He doesn't because he can't. If he does, he looks dumb. If he doesn't, he looks dumb. But less effort is exerted if he doesn't, so he just sits back and hopes it stops. Now that he's older and attractive people don't really bully him, but there is always that underlying thought that people hate him. It's a fear that won't likely go away. Torin also loathes sarcasm. He feels that it's an attack, even if people are just joking. He doesn't really get angry, but he does get upset. And when he does he doesn't tell people. He just assumes that he's hated.

The up side to being friends with Torin is that you don't have to worry about being hurt. When Torin takes someone under his wing, he'll protect them at all costs. He'll throw himself in front of a bus if it meant saving someone dear to him. He's incredibly loyal to those that show him kindness, and is incredibly sweet and empathetic towards them. His friends are his family, and family needs to stick together. If his family is hurting, he'll do everything in his power to fix it.

Fatal flaw: Torin has two fears. His first fear is of other people, i.e. low self-esteem. Every joke or comment is an attack on him, and he'll rip his mind apart trying to find out what he did wrong. His second fear is intertwined with the first, being that he'll disappoint the people who matter most to him. If he's helping someone and they get hurt further, he blames himself, hates himself for it, and becomes a mess of emotion. It's nearly impossible to get through to him when he's like this. He locks himself away from the rest of the world and tells himself how worthless he is. As strong as he is on the outside, he is weak on the inside. Manipulating his mind is not a difficult task.

Pets: He likes to keep caterpillars as pets and house them until they become butterflies. Then he lets them go. He gets caterpillars whenever he finds them, so he generally has 3 or 4 at any given time during the spring and summer. Winter and fall, not so much.

Talents: Being the son of the Asclepius, Torin is knowledgeable and skillful in the art of medicine. He's great at treating minor and even some major wounds, and has a decent knowledge of local remedies to treat different illnesses. Likewise, he can identify many useful herbs in the wilderness, and define which ones will make your headache go away and which ones will make your throat swell to the point of suffocation. Torin also has a special ability to suck pain away through touch. Very useful for those with major injuries and no vicodin or, if the occasion calls for it, morphine. It doesn't completely erase the pain, but his touch dulls it. Better than nothing, right? Torin isn't much of a weapons guy but his size gives him an advantage in hand to hand combat. [/color]

Weapons: Weapons aren't really necessary for Torin from day to day, but if war is inevitable, he'll make good use of a sturdy, titanium alloy baseball bat that is painted red and appropriately named "bat."

Year-round or summer: Year round, because he can make good use of himself helping the campers and going outside camp to be ripped apart by monsters is not in his agenda.

Other: Torin has a soft spot for video games, specifically the pokemon games for gameboy color and nintendo 64. He'd like to sneak an n64 into his cabin at some point. He also likes to take early morning jogs because they make him feel refreshed. And he can't say no to pastries. If he had to eat one thing for the rest of his life, it would be eclairs. When he consumes ambrosia, it tastes like eclairs to him.

Relationships:
Lexi - My ex. She thinks I'm "mentally unstable" because I broke up with her for Ben. I wanted us to be friends, but after that comment I have no desire to see her at all.
Essie - She seems like the introverted type. I don't know much about her except that she apparently doesn't cook that much and is Leroy's sister.
Leroy - I don't know why but he doesn't like me, and he makes it rather obvious. His attitude is kind of annoying.
Ben - Ah, my kind, protective brother. Had it not been for him, I'd be dead. This guy always has my back. And my front now. It might seem a little weird, but I love him. Like, I'm in love. A lot. I hope he never leaves.
Charlie - Jeez, that girl has an iron grip. She's very...energetic? I expect trouble when she's around.

---

Do the D.A.N.C.E.
1, 2, 3, 4, Fight

Stick to the B.E.A.T.
Get ready to ignite



Name: Logan R. Shields

Age/Birthday: 19 years old. Born October 24th, 1992

Gender: Male

God Parent: Dionysus

Claimed: Of course

Mortal Family: (mother) Leah Shields

Years in Camp: 4 years

Brief History: Logan's life had always revolved around parties. He was a shuffler, a drinker, a joker and an all out party go-er. Until he nearly got tramped to death at a concert, that is. At 15 when he was at one particularly wild concert that his mother had never approved of him attending, he got shoved down in a mosh pit. No one noticed him, so they kept pushing people around getting shoved themselves. He was trapped on the ground, suffocated as people stomped on his chest, limbs, and even his head a few times. How many people could say they got curb-stomped and lived? After a minute or two people finally realized what the unconscious lump on the floor was, and crowded around him to protect him from being crushed further, because that's proper party etiquette. He was dragged away from the crowd, and an ambulance was called.

A few days later, after the x-ray and ct-scans, the casts and braces, came Logan's re-entry into the world of consciousness, as well as him mother's frenzy. The hospital stay had cost a small fortune, and Mrs. Shields couldn't attend work and keep Logan out of trouble at the same time(Logan had a knack for sneaking out...He couldn't say no to a party), so Logan was told the truth about his identity, and told that he would be staying at camp Half-Blood. Soon after his arrival, he met with and was claimed by his father. He's still at camp to this day, and spends his time sneaking out to party, hosting parties within camp boundaries, or decorating his bunk with colorful lights. Despite his horrendous accident, Logan is still a party addict and little has changed about him.

Physical Appearance: Logan has a small bone structure and is a generally light weight. He stands at 5'7" and weights just short of 145lbs, with a lean, wiry frame. He's a bit odd in fashion and has a thing for bright, outstanding colors. He was born with golden blonde hair but dyed it bleach blonde and with purple highlighted stripes running through it randomly. His hair is spiky, pointing in every which direction and matches his blonde eyebrows. He's got dark blue eyes that people occasionally mistake as blue-violet due to the influence of all the purple he wears and pale, irish skin. His nose is somewhat feminine and curved and he has thin pale-pink lips. his neck is smooth and slender and the rest of him is bony and wiry.

Personality: His personality is as bold as his looks and Logan is not afraid to stand out. He is wildly rambunctious and free-spirited, incredibly stubborn and has a knack for not listening to the rules. He prefers to control himself, rather than let others control him, so don't even think about setting boundaries for him. He's a cheery guy overall, but gets annoyed at small things. He's not afraid to speak his mind and has a habit of being incredibly blunt with people.

He is generally nice but won't tolerate people getting in his way, and if he has to break someone's neck to get something he wants, he isn't afraid to do it. Like he gets overly annoyed at small things, he also gets incredibly excited about other little things, and tends to obsess over new things on a regular basis. Logan is incredibly flirty and an excellent liar when he wants to be.

Fatal Flaw: Logan is incredibly lazy and it tends to irritate people. He is reliable as a friend but not for getting things done, and he can't be trusted by himself. At the same time that Logan refuses to do anything he doesn't want to do, he's also impulsive and rash about things he's curious about, and is a little too quick to act. He doesn't often think about consequences until it's too late. His bluntness also tends to get him in trouble; he should probably learn not to tell the Ares kids that they're boring to their faces.

Pets: He keeps a green and white panther chameleon in his room named Mojo. Beware of Mojo hiding in blankets and clothing.

Talents: Logan is a smooth liar and can consume plenty of alcohol before losing his bearings thanks to his dad. He's also very quick and graceful on his feet, and very good at dodging attacks.

Weapons: He has a silver ring on his right middle finger engraved with a grapevine design. When removed the ring becomes a celestial bronze scimitar with a grapevine spiraled around the hilt and crafted with silver. The weapon's name is Zyr.

Year-round or summer: Year round, minus his adventures outside of camp to party.

Other: Logan named his sword after his favorite vodka. He's a heavy drinker and has an addiction to E as well as a few other substances that are terrible for him. He's in denial about it. He loves trance, dubstep, and colorful lights as well as dancing.

Relationships: -UNDER CONSTRUCTION-

---





the cold air fights its way into
our open hearts and every room

the sun is leaving darker skies
they cover earth but we don't mind


Name: Landon Greene

Age/Birthday: 16 years old. Born December 2nd, 1995

Gender: Male

God Parent: Khione, goddess of snow

Claimed: Yes.

Mortal Family: Ryan Greene(deceased father)

Years in Camp: Two.

Brief History: Landon was always a latchkey kid. As soon as he began to attend school, he had a key strung around his neck to let himself in the house. Being a single father supporting a child was no easy task, and it took up most of Ryan Green's time. So after Ryan taught Landon how to care for himself, Landon did. Ryan woke him up in the morning on his way out the door to work, and then Landon took care of the rest: getting showered and dressed, getting on the bus, going to school, going home on the bus, making himself something to eat, and amusing himself through the lonely evenings. Then Ryan returned home sometime around 8pm with take-out for Landon. Ryan would go to bed, exhausted while Landon ate the take out and watch television or, on occasion, try to finish homework. The Taco Bell or pizza that his father brought home was the closest Landon had to a home-cooked meal.

Of course he would've liked to see his dad more as a child, but he was a very smart boy. He knew it was no time with dad or no food and no home. So he rarely mentioned the thought of spending more time together. Landon struggled through school on account of his dyslexia, adhd, and his lack of parental or teacher help with work. He couldn't stay after school for tutoring ever, due to his lack of transportation aside from the bus, and Khione and Ryan weren't exactly around to help with those troubling math problems. So he grew to hate it. He hated teachers always questioning why he was having so much trouble, hated when people asked him what he got on a test when he knew he failed, hated when the teacher said most of the class did good instead of all of the class did good on a test because he so often was the only one who did poorly. He eventually stopped doing homework and started skipping more often. When teachers called the house, nobody answered. When he was issued detentions, he never showed up. He didn't bother to tell people about his situation anymore, tired of repeating the same explanation to people who would just ask again the next time it happened. There was no way to fix it, he was convinced, and it wasn't worth the effort to try.

And then his father died, struck by a car across the street to his workplace during the morning, and Landon just about lost it hearing the news. Landon was only 11. After he was placed into the system, he disconnected himself from the world, stopped doing homework, going to school, talking to people. Refused to take directions from his many sets of foster parents and teachers. For a short while, he stopped eating and drinking. He became reckless and did things that could've killed him. He was sent to a treatment facility where he was forced to eat and talk to a therapist. His behavior was watched at all times and he was allowed to do very little, like go past the fence outside that locked he and all of the other patients in. It wasn't long before he figured out how to get out.

Landon faked happiness and recovery until they released him a year later, convinced he was no longer troubled. He had met some decent people during his stay at the facility, but none that had actually made him feel like things were going to be okay. It was only a few days after he got out that he tried to kill himself. Landon had picked a cold, rainy day(for some reason he found that he enjoyed cold weather. Well, not so much enjoyed but it was the most bearable of all weather) to take a walk. He chose one direction and went that way, for hours, until he was out of town walking alone along a turnpike. Cars flew by, many honking horns as if to make him get out of the road, but it only reminded him of his father's death. Eventually, when his body and mind were exhausted, he decided enough was enough, and turned to step into the traffic. He was making his way across the shoulder and was about to move in front of an oncoming delivery truck when he heard someone frantically calling his voice from behind.

As it turns out, this frantic voice came from a patient of the hospital he had stayed at. It was one of his acquaintances who had apparently been there for an eating disorder. The patient had a strange addiction to eating cans and other thin metal scraps. The other boy's name was Danny.

Down from the hill Danny rushed, and Landon couldn't help but notice that the boy seemed to be running on hooves. Landon had stopped on the white line separating the shoulder from the turnpike lane to wonder if he was hallucinating from his lack of a nourished, fortifying diet(after he was released he quit eating) when Danny finally caught up and yanked him by the arm, dragging him to the far edge of the shoulder where they were the least likely to get hit. After Danny scolded him--which Landon didn't even pay attention to, his first question was completely irrelevant to the speech and was asking why Danny had goat legs--Danny explained that he was a satyr and meant to bring Landon to camp half blood. He specified that he was meant to bring Landon back alive and then grabbed his arm and dragged him back to town. They both narrowly avoided getting hit by traffic on the way.

When they returned to town, Danny brought Landon straight to the bus stop. They gave the driver enough money to buy them two bus tickets. Then they went from Landon's home town of Augusta, Maine, all the way to Camp Half-Blood in New York, where Landon has been ever since. A few weeks after Landon was settled into camp, he was claimed by his mother Khione, goddess of snow, and Danny left to go escort more Half-Bloods to camp. As far as Landon knows, Danny hasn't returned, even though it has been years.

Physical Appearance: Landon is about 5'6", average height, and on the thin side. He started eating again, knowing his mother is alive somewhere, but doesn't like to eat that much, and has a naturally wiry body structure. If he removed his shirt one would see ribs, and he's a little sensitive to it(but not enough to help himself). To combat the problem of people seeing how thin he is, he constantly wears sweatshirts and long pants.

Landon has sandy blonde hair with bangs that sweep towards the right. His hair is a short to medium length that begins that stops around his ears in the front and at the level of his chin or so in the back, where the hair is thinner and curls in slightly to his neck. He has dark-blue green eyes and fair skin, with doughy cheeks that are a light shade of pink, and grow redder in the cold.

Due to Raynaud's Syndrome Landon's arms and legs are rather pale, and during an attack will become blotched with patches of white, red, and even purple skin. Because of Raynaud's he is surprisingly sensitive to the cold. But he still likes to spend time in the cold because it clears his head and gives him a normal reason to wear heavy clothes, which hides most of his blotchy skin and under-weight physique anyway.

Personality: Due to the past trauma of his life, Landon is not quick to get to know people. He is polite and kind enough, but knows first-hand that people don't last forever, so he makes himself believe that they won't stay, and treats them like so. He treats people like one might in an elevator. Say a few quick words and move on.

He won't outwardly speak about anything personal, but if you can manage to get him to spill his tale, you are probably someone he holds very dear to his heart, even if he hates it. Landon is very loyal to the select few that do manage to get close to him, and would do anything, anything for them.

Adventurous isn't quite the word to describe Landon; he's more reckless than adventurous. He'll do crazy things not necessarily because they bring a spark of fun and adrenaline to him, but rather he doesn't care about consequences. If he dies, he dies. Needless to say, Landon has bouts of depression where he honestly doesn't care if dies, and occasionally hopes it happens. This is his ugly side, where he cuts off everyone from the world and does his own thing. It takes a lot of nagging and love to get him out of it, as he's rather stubborn when he gets this way. At any other time, Landon is relatively reasonable and easy to get along with. But when he's genuinely depressed, he won't really listen to anyone.

Landon is a warm person. He doesn't like seeing people in pain and will try to help them, so long as he can do so without involving himself too much. He acts like he doesn't enjoy being the center of attention, but inside he does enjoy people poking and prodding him and getting inside his head and heart, because it makes him feel like he's important and belongs. In this way, he's a bit of a romantic. He doesn't fall in love with just anybody, but if one person devotes enough attention to him, he'll begin to have feelings back. Looks don't much matter to Landon. It's all about personality. If he is spending time with someone who is arrogant and doesn't care about others, he'll walk away without a word. He doesn't argue, doesn't fight. He'll just leave.

The only way to see him fight is to hurt something important to him. Punching him will do nothing. Punching his friend will invoke his wrath. It's best to stay out of his way, because he can be as fierce as his mother when the situation calls for it, and all of his bottled up rage and pain is unleashed in a furry of attacks, much like a snow storm.

Fatal Flaw: He is border-line on the will to live and the want to die. Say the wrong words and he'll stop eating, sleeping, talking, and let himself die. His opinions on life are dark, and he just doesn't care. He'll step across train-tracks even if a train is coming if someone catches his eye on the other side. Danger doesn't bother him, and he's completely irrational in his actions most of the time.

Pets: Landon used to keep pets like mice and hamsters but was tired of them dying on him, so now he doesn't like to keep pets.

Talents: Landon was gifted with the power of Thermokinesis. Well, half of the power, anyway. In a nutshell, it means he can drop temperatures in things if he focuses enough on them. He slows the kinetic energy of atoms that make up objects, which decreases the heat. He finds it's easier on smaller objects, because there are less atoms to contend with, and better with living organisms. Keep young children away from Landon! The power is mostly voluntary, he uses will-power to control it, but if he physically touches something the power also activates, regardless of whether he wants it to or not. So don't hug him for too long or you might find yourself shivering.

The power takes some time to kick in, especially with bigger objects. The atoms are slowed, not completely halted at first, so the temperatures decreases, but not from 92 degrees fahrenheit to a sudden 30 degrees fahrenheit. The process is a gradual one. Bugs seem to be the only thing he can kill quickly, because they're so small the freeze to the point of death in a few seconds. Humans would take between half an hour to an hour, and so on and so fourth. Just don't fall asleep in his arms and you should be fine. The downside is, once he speed drops the temperature, he can't raise it back up. It must increase naturally, so it'll be slower going up than it was going down.

Landon is an excellent shot with a bow at medium to long range. He can accurately pinpoint moving targets and determine how much strength to put into the arrow for a straight, swift shot, so avoid him in archery competitions and long-range fights. If you want to take Landon down, go for close range or even hand-to-hand combat. He's frail and can be easily snapped into pieces, especially by the Ares cabin kids.

He is also quick on his feet. He'll shoot an arrow and dash to another position elsewhere to shoot again. It comes in handy to avoid close ranging fighting, which is practically instant death for him. If he can't kill while evading, he's done for.


Weapons: A white birch longbow with blue sapphire tips on each end where the string is attached through small grooves. Landon has three types of arrows, each color coded. The celestial bronze arrows are, like their name suggests, completely bronze, the aluminum arrows are silver in color with blue feathers and tips, and the carbon arrows are black with red feathers and white tips. His bow can change into a silver ring that he keeps on the middle finger of his left hand. The black bag of arrows that he slings over his back can be subdued into a black ring with red stripes that he keeps on the middle finger of his right hand.

Year-round or Summer: Year-round.

Other: He keeps fifteen of each arrow type stocked in his bag generally...More if the camp is going to war or something along those lines. When he runs out, it's time to run away. Landon hates the infirmary because it brings back memories of the facility he was forced to stay in for a year. He also hates Christmas. But he has an intense love for pizzas, strombolis, and calzones. If he's being stubborn and refusing to eat, these are the foods to bring him. They're the only ones he might give in to temptation and actually consume.


Last edited by Aziel on Wed Oct 10, 2012 12:00 pm; edited 26 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Sat Nov 12, 2011 9:23 pm

Oh man, that's detail. xD

Awesome character! Charlie Henderson is ACCEPTED!
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Sun Nov 13, 2011 10:00 pm

Thank you! :'D
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Sun Nov 20, 2011 7:12 pm

Accepted! But can you give some limitations to his no-pain power?
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Sun Nov 20, 2011 7:16 pm

Yeah, there are limits. It only dulls the pain, so if the pain is minor than it goes away, like a paper cut or something will feel like nothing, but if you get stabbed, it's obviously gonna hurt, lol.
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Thu Nov 24, 2011 1:21 am

As long as you keep his substance abuse rated PG12 (xD) it's okay. Accepted!
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Sun Dec 04, 2011 6:09 am

New character up. It'd be super lovely if someone could approve him for me. <3
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Sun Dec 04, 2011 10:20 am

He's hot and accepted. :D
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Tue Dec 06, 2011 2:04 pm

The topic title made me laugh. I don't even know why xD
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Wed Dec 07, 2011 4:42 pm

I vomit characters and poop creativity. THIS IS THE LIFE OF A WANDERING SNIGGLE.
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Mon Dec 19, 2011 2:16 am

Sniggle, just to make sure you don't lose your characters, I would separate their sheets. If the post itself has too many words in it, it won't save, and erase everything. (experience)
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Mon Dec 19, 2011 4:33 pm

OH GOD. D: If that happened I would probably rage quit and then go cry. ;___;
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Mon Dec 19, 2011 4:46 pm

At least save it as a word document before saving it on here. ^^
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Mon Dec 19, 2011 5:49 pm





Well, spin your head around
Be happy but profound; run for your life

Am I stupid or just brave?
Well, they're basically the same






Name: Avery "Dream Weaver" Cooper

Age/Birthday: 17 years old. Born June 16th, 1994

Gender: Male

God Parent: Morpheus, God of dreams

Claimed: Yes.

Mortal Family: (mother)Eileen Cooper

Years in Camp: A few months

Brief History: Avery is a strange boy, and has been for as long as anyone can remember. As a baby he laughed more than he cried, as a toddler he tried building houses out of crayons rather than eating them, as a boy he liked to tell stories to anyone who would listen...even if that meant the city pigeons by the park bench while he tossed them french fries. As a teenager he wrote and drew out his stories, and posted them online. Most people he knew in the real world thought he was anti-social and weird. He had a small group of friends, but he didn't go to those crazy parties every weekend. He was perfectly fine playing video games at his house or a friend's, or staying home and writing some more. Very little could get him down, and he didn't ask for much. A parent's dream child.

Well, almost, anyway. On his 13th birthday his mother Eileen decided to let him in on the big secret about his dad. About how his father was actually a Greek God. Avery was ecstatic to hear about it; the news fueled his imagination for all kinds of stories and adventures.

But then school beat the creativity out of him. As he aged, he was allowed to write his stories less and less. His teachers didn't condone the senseless rambles and doodles all over his notes and papers. They took extreme measures and began taking away his notebooks if he was caught doing something off task. They ripped up his papers if he was caught doodling. He was sent home day after day with hours of homework, and that work, on top of his chores and grocery store job, left very little time for him to let the creativity to stem from his fingers. Eventually he became conditioned not to draw, not to write, not to tell stories. Papers no longer had to do with wizards and dragons and magical worlds, they were analytical essays. Pleasing to his teachers.

The grades began to go up again, but Eileen noticed a gradual change in his personality. He was less open, less happy-go-lucky and open. Less friendly in general. Sarcasm replaced imagination, and the real world took hold. He experimented with some things he should've have, and at 15 when his mother uncovered the 8 ball of crystal meth he had tucked away in a plastic bag under his bed, she confronted him. They argued, plenty, and she cried. He refused to give it up, and was sent to rehabilitation. 14 months later he was off the drug, but addicted to cigarettes. Sure, he's not legally old enough to smoke them, but they're a much healthier alternative, so people tend to let him slide.

A few months ago Eileen brought up an alternative to returning to school, which was going to Camp Half Blood. Unable to fathom the idea of being brain-washed by the machine and having teachers kick the creativity out of him, he eagerly agreed. He packed up and left his Florida home a few days after their conversation, and drove himself to camp Half Blood, where he currently resides.

Physical Appearance: Avery is slender and of average weight. He is 5'9 with short, dark brown hair and blue eyes. He often smirks and it's hard to tell his sarcastic smile from his real one. He has a few brown freckles/moles scattered across his face and deep dimples whenever he smiles. His lips are deep and red, rather feminine for a guy. He is relatively clean shaven, and doesn't have much hair on his arms, legs, or anywhere else. He can only grow a 5 o'clock shadow/stubble on his face, it seems. He is rather bony and without much curve to his body. His position is generally a slouched, uncaring one. His style isn't set in stone, he wears whatever he wants. One day he can be in a t-shirt and sweat pants and the next day he can be in a tuxedo. It all depends on his mood and how much effort he feels like exerting each particular morning.

Personality: The 14 months away from school allowed him to loosen up a bit. He got into writing again, making up fictional stories, monologues, and even recording diary entries of his time at The Watershed(his rehab center's name.) He softened himself, became more affable. He still uses sarcasm, but he can also be kind and even charming on occasion.

He does, however, still have an incredibly strong opposition again societal norms. Not in the hipster oh-that's-too-mainstream-for-me-to-like kind of way, but in the you're-beating-the-creativity-out-of-everyone-and-turning-us-into-brainwashed-clones. He has this theory that elementary and middle school are meant to take all self-expression and independent thought out of incoming generations. They are told they can't think for themselves, that when they think for themselves they're wrong. That they should look up to the leaders and authority figures, because they are all-knowing. He believes it's a load of crap and will get very intense arguing his point, due to his past experiences. Needless to say, he can be incredibly stubborn and hot-tempered when the wrong string is pulled. Most of the time, though, he's a rather laid-back guy. Mention school, though, and he'll probably hurt you.

Most people don't mean much to Avery, and it takes a lot to get on his good side. Most people are on his neutral side, but to get on his good side, where he would actually prefer to hang out with them than draw in his room alone, is a difficult side to get onto. It takes plenty of patience and perseverance. First, you're whatever. Bug him to be his friend, and he'll dislike you. Keep bugging, and eventually he'll grow fond of you, taking it that you actually give a crap about him. And once you've made it to the good side, you'd practically have to stab him to make him dislike you again.

Fatal flaw: He holds intense grudges. If you screw him over badly enough, he will stop at nothing to end you, even if he's destroyed in the process. He can also be quite bitter and his mood can turn on a dime. Needless to say, friends are not easily made.

Pets: None, although he quite likes birds. Specifically pigeons, and if he could get one he would.

Talents: Avery was born with the gift of dream infiltration. As a baby he'd use it by accident, invading his mother's dreams and replacing her more rational ideas with flying toasters and singing dinosaurs, the things he would think about. Over the years he as sharpened the gift and can magnify and project his own thoughts and dreams into others, but only when they aren't in a conscious state. Likewise, he can control his own dreams. Lucky, right? Trying to run from a murderer but your legs are stuck and can't move? Well, he can make himself fly away if he wants. There is no real use for this gift other than to keep himself from having nightmares. [/color]

Weapons: A Greek Xiphos sword that turns into a small silver key he can put in his pocket. Its name is Kaz and it has a globe carved into the hilt.

Year-round or summer: Year-round. School is too brutal for his liking.

Other: He has an addiction to cigarettes and will never be caught without a pack. He often keeps a spare one tucked behind his right ear.

Relationships:

---






Reserved for son of Hermes


reserved for son of Helios.


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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Mon Dec 19, 2011 9:11 pm

ACCEPTED. He's also hot. :D
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Sat Mar 31, 2012 10:56 pm



Harper Evans
___

Turn the crowd up now, we'll never back down
Shoot down the skyline, watch it in primetime
Turn up the love now, listen up now, turn up the love




Name:
Harper Evans

Age/Birthday:
17 years old. Born on June 12th

Gender:
Female

God Parent:
Iris

Claimed:
Yes

Mortal Family:
Doesn't consider anyone to be her blood family. She never knew her father and just jumped through foster homes.

Friends She Considers Family:
Grayson Lark and Hemlock as brothers, Morgan Rivera as a mother, and John Howard, aka Jax as a father

Years in Camp:
4

Brief History:

Harper never really knew the meaning of "family" until she met her friends in a foster home in the heart of Cincinnati. She was jumping from the foster home to family homes and then back again for as long as she could remember. It's not that she meant any harm to the families who took her in, but she had become close to the people in the home, and didn't want to leave them, so she'd break house rules, sneaking out, stealing, and petty things like that to be sent back. She did this until she was 10, collaborating an escape with her friends so that finally they'd be able to stay together.

She, 10 year old Grayson Lark, 12 year old Hemlock(it was a nickname they made for it, he was voluntarily mute and never gave them anything to refer to him as), 15 year old John Howard, and 14 year old Morgan Rivera escaped into the night and took shelter in an abandoned factory. When a day or two had past and they ran short on the food they brought, the begged for money on the streets(on the other side of town from the foster home, since they would've been sent back if recognized), with little luck.

In and out of the home, they had always practiced dances of all sorts--krumping, jerking, cwalking, freestyle, and even a little b-boy and ballet. Each of them found dance to be their passion, and dedicated themselves to it day and night, so when they ran away, with little else to do in their immense amount of spare time, they danced.

It was by chance that they had been dancing at the mouth of an alleyway when somebody handed them two dollars. It was a kind gesture, an approval for what they did, and they realized that they could dance for the money. So they began taking turns dancing, choreographing group routines, and just did what they loved on the street corner. A steady crowd began to show up, and heads turned as people walked by. They scraped up enough money to feed themselves each night, and found this new free-lance path to be enjoyable. Until they were recognized.

Posters had been apparently put up, because one day while they danced a patrol officer approached them. When he held up the posters to compare each of the children, they realized what was happening, and made a run for it. They ran down to the metro station and dove into the swarm of people, who provided just enough cover for them to cash all their money for train tickets to New York. Then they hopped the train and made their way to the grand city.

In New York, they basically repeated the same routine. They found a street corner and danced on it, and this time, they were sought out by a peculiar boy with curly blonde locks and a stubbled chin. He came back day after day and watched carefully. Specifically, he watched Harper. One day, as she and Grayson left the home they'd made in a rundown home, they were ambushed. Grayson had been struck in the back by a stick, a crutch, specifically, and Harper was grabbed by the arm and shoved into a car. The doors were locked and the curly haired man got in the drivers seat.

When the man said he was a greek satyr and that mythological creatures weren't myths at all, she didn't believe a word of it. She was only focused on escaping the car. He kept talking about how her mother was a god or goddess as he drove farther and farther away from the city.

Eventually, they made it to camp half blood, where he turned her loose. She made a mad dash into the woods and unknowingly ended up in the camp. When she knocked on about half a dozen doors screaming for help, they all just laughed, and gave her the same explanation.

For the first week she was in camp, she'd make sudden mad dashes into the woods looking for an escape, but could never find it. After she'd been out there for a few hours, some campers would go out and bring her back with a snicker. And slowly, as she watched pegasi flying overhead and buffet tables magically covering themselves with plates upon plates of food, she came to realize that everyone was right, and this was real. Shortly after her acceptance, and her attempts to escape stopped, she was claimed by her mother, Iris, when her dinner plate glimmered vibrantly with every color imaginable--before stuffing it with food, of course. She's been at camp half blood ever since, but does make occasional trips back to New York in search for her friends.

Physical Appearance:
Harper is something close to beautiful, though she won't admit it. She's got straight brown hair with a dyed, platinum blonde under-layer. She's got the olive skin-tone classic to latina girls and deep-set, hazel eyes, with a lean, wiry build. The majority of her muscle is in her legs, and her arms are skinnier and weaker. The thicker legs are due to the muscle from dancing and springing about constantly. She's not particularly tall nor short, standing at around 5'6 and weighing in at around 130lb. The weight comes from muscle, not fat. She's got a small brown mole on her throat, about an inch above her collar bone that her friends like to poke and tease her about.

As far as style is concerned, she's got a surprisingly bright wardrobe. Despite her introverted personality, most of Harper's clothes are matches of neon to white and black, and pop in a crowd. She adores purple, sky blue, and lime green, and enjoys matching complimentary colors together to make her outfit stand out that much more. It's an urban style, generally with cargo shorts or bright sweatpants, and tank tops under hooded sweatshirts. She shows more skin than personality, generally, but less clothing makes maneuvering for some dances easier. On the other hand, baggy pants can make leg movements look smoother, so it mostly depends on what she wants to do on any given day. She's also a huge fan of hats, fat billed, hunting, or santa hats, it doesn't much matter. It's like her version of a blanket, and makes her feel more secure. When with close friends or at something formal she may not wear one, but usually she's caught in baseball hats.

Personality:
Like her mother, Harper is very timid. She walks with her head down and avoids eye contact, having little self-confidence--with the exception of her dancing. Dancing is her best way of expressing herself, and when she's got support, she's not afraid of starting a dance in the middle of a crowd. Ask her a question when she's by herself, though, and she'll be dumbfounded with what to reply with--heck, she'll probably be wondering why someone is talking to her in the first place.

She's humble and generally kind, keeping to herself until fully comfortable with a person. She has slight trust issues, but they can be overcome. She's not good with second chances, though, and has a fragile heart.

Harper tends to be a follower, and due to her openness and need to fit in, she can be easily manipulated. Insults are taken very deeply, and sarcasm upsets her too. She does enjoy many things, but to get Harper to talk about herself or the things she enjoys is like pulling teeth. Only the persistent will manage to get through her outer-shell. The easiest way to get a smile on her face is through corny jokes or dancing. She's a sucker for a boy with a body that moves like liquid, and admires dancers by default, whether they're good or bad. She admires most people, for that matter, who try hard in what they love, regardless of if people tell them they're bad or good. She borderlines pessimist(when dealing with the things she does especially) but tends to get along the most with optimists and those stubborn enough to make her spill the beans and try new things. She's very nervous when it comes to things she doesn't know, and tries to stay in her comfort zone of music as much as she can. That being said, she's afraid of art. sports and socialization.

Fatal Flaw:
Her lack of self esteem makes her easy to mentally scar. Nasty words will render her broken and useless, and the right taunts and persuasion can make her do questionable things. Her mind is very easily changed by what people say.

Pets:
How she came across this particular animal is a mystery, and Harper isn't keen on telling the story, but for a few years she has been accompanied by an Ostrich. This Ostrich is around 8ft tall, from head to feet, which is average for an ostrich, but has a weight problem of sorts. While the typical, healthy ostrich weighs from 290-300lbs, her ostrich weighs in at a whopping 450lbs. The extra weight, unfortunately, isn't muscle, and resides mainly in the bird's gut. Bloop, as Harper named him, is a rather fat bird. He has short, dark brown feathers covering most of his body, being absent only on the bird's neck, face, legs and feet, with ruffled white feathers on his tail and head. He has a long, flat beak and muddy brown eyes, with a natural scowl of an expression on. It fits his personality, as this bird has a sour attitude and a temper worse than his diet. The only one he's not extremely rude towards is Harper, for some reason. But she is constantly apologizing for his actions.

Talents:
Dancing is easily one of her strongest and favorite talents. She sticks mostly to hip-hop based dances(though she'll use these moves to a number of different genres), and her favorites are popping, locking, cwalking, and shuffling. She also likes parkour, though this is a guilty pleasure of hers, and is moderately good at it, thanks to learning how to flip and balance through dancing.

Her demi-god power is a gift from Iris, in that she can deliver Iris messages from anyone she has met in person, to anyone she has met in person. It costs a drachma from the user wishing to deliver a message, including if Harper wants to deliver one, and the words, "Oh Harper, do me a solid. Show me (insert name of who the message will be delivered to)." Harper can do it as many times as she can stand--which isn't much, considering how dizzy she gets after wards. Transferring video message makes her feel tired and nauseous, and if done too much at once makes her throw up and/or collapse, so Harper isn't to be abused. She can refuse messages, but due to her want to help people rarely does, even at the cost of her well-being. She is essentially the rainbow line that connects people, so an actual rainbow isn't necessary when Harper is around. Just give the drachma to Harper and make the call. Plus, in this way, Harper gets to see and hear everything being said too--which keeps her up to date on gossip and troubles.

Another power that she never even told Grayson, was what she refers to as the Curse of Iris. She's still unsure if Iris is trolling her or if there is a way to make it stop that all the other campers know and she doesn't, but when she passes gas, a small trace of color is expelled from her butt. It lingers in the air for a moment before fading. That's right, Harper farts rainbows. Faint, but they're there. And she's incredibly sensitive about them. It started when she turned 13, and she has no idea why or how to get it to stop, but whenever she feels a need to pass gas coming on, she high tails it to the bathroom. So Harper uses the bathroom at usually once every two hours, solely to fart. When people asks, she just says she has bladder problems because she's too embarrassed to say anything about it. And if she ever meets her mom, she plans to ask why that happens. Personally, she thinks Iris is just trolling her.

Weapons:
Harper isn't a fighter unless severely provoked, and this means threatening the life of a friend, in which case she'll trash an enemy. When it comes to her own well-being, she's not quick to fight. But when she has to, for the benefit of the camp, she wield a steel baseball bat and just smashes wildly with it. There's no rhythm or style to it, she just swings. The baseball bat is purple and reads "Lark" in white paint, the name she gave it as a tribute to Grayson. Rivera, Howard, and Hemlock have also been written in small print variously around the bat with black sharpie.

Other:
As previously mentioned, Harper uses the toilet a lot. Irrelevantly, she gets emotional whenever the names of her friends are brought up, whether intentional or a coincidence.




Last edited by Chrome Lion on Sat Apr 07, 2012 10:25 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Sat Mar 31, 2012 11:36 pm

Accepted, now go fart rainbows.
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cher
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Sun Apr 01, 2012 12:45 am

Sniggle, isthatHTML?
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Wed Apr 11, 2012 2:13 am





WIP CHARACTER

"Jazz"

Devon Hayes

_____

Turn the crowd up now, we'll never back down
Shoot down the skyline, watch it in primetime
Turn up the love now, listen up now, turn up the love




Name:
Devon G. Hayes

Age/Birthday:
17 years old. Born on January 1st

Gender:
Male

God Parent:
Brizo

Claimed:
Yes

Mortal Family:
Lacey Morgann

Years in Camp:
2

Brief History:
It wasn't just by chance that Devon Hayes, the "Miracle baby" survived an unusually wicked tsunami that washed through Daytona Beach, Florida. Devon was found by the U.S. Coast Guard who'd been taking rowboats through the flooded streets in search of survivors. He'd been in perfect condition, a healthy, glowing baby, with a tuft of brown hair, pale blue eyes and a snubby, rounded nose. He'd been wrapped neatly in an emerald green, satin blanket, and was found casually laying on a piece of driftwood with one pudgy arm poking out of the blanket to point at the sky with a giggle. He'd been immediately taken aboard the boat and transported to high grounds, where an emergency evacuation shelter was taking care of those injured or just displaced by the ravaging current.

Gossip spread like wildfire through the facility as heads turned to see the baby that had survived the disaster with a toothless smile. The tsunami had killed dozens, and yet a helpless child, not more than a few months old, managed to survive.

After the chaos died down, the state went to work finding contacting his parents. Of course, it's impossible to find parents when the baby happens to be without a name or identification of any sort. As far as the records showed, he didn't exist. So, they gave him an identification, naming him Devon Hayes(Devon because the social workers mutually agreed that they liked the name, and Hayes because that was the street [at the time underwater] that Devon had been found floating on.) and registered him into foster care. He humbly moved from home to home until he found what he thought to be a permanent home with a curly blonde haired, middle aged widow by the name of Lacey Morgann at the age of 8.

That was, of course, until she revealed her true identity. She was the grandchild of two demigods; a son of Ares and a daughter of Apollo. Lacey had gone to Camp Half Blood for four years herself, learning to fight and defend herself so that she could return to Florida to attend high school, and when the traits of a demigod manifested in Devon, she knew exactly what she had to do. It was only a 2 hour flight and 50 minute drive to bring young Devon to Camp Half Blood, where he's been ever since.

Physical Appearance:


Personality:


Fatal Flaw:


Pets:


Talents:



Weapons:


Other:
While he refuses to tell what his middle name is, the G. stands for Gooby. So his whole name is Devon Gooby Hayes. The social workers thought it would be funny, although Devon is extremely embarrassed by it.




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Sniggle
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Fri May 25, 2012 10:27 pm

CANONS

Character: Aeolus

Appearance and personality: Aeolus is somewhat of a dapper man. Or, at least, he thinks himself to be that way, at any rate. He's mostly seen in formal attire--a suit that changes in accordance to the sky(that's right, clouds float across it in any formation he chooses) that varies in color from the gentle pink of a setting sun to the brilliant gold of one rising to the mellow blue of a clear day. He's got wispy, unkempt hair that, while usually white, can turn a variety of grays depending on his mood and whether he's manipulating storm clouds, and some short facial hair consisting of chinstrap beard and mustache that he keeps neatly trimmed. They always keep the same color that his hair does, so if his hair is white, so are the beard and mustache.

As for personality, Aeolus is rather high-strung. A few screws are loose in the head, so to speak, from his constant rushing to change temperatures and skies. He's gotta be perfectly timed, otherwise he might accidentally destroy some crops and start famines worldwide. It's a job that requires precision, and he's constantly working at it, so he's not a particularly stable guy. You can always count on him to be full of himself, though. If anyone even so much as mentions the sky, they're talking about him. You know..even if they're not. He's also a critic of the weather channel and likes to play with the rain just to throw the meteorologists off for acting so sure of themselves. It's quite the hobby of his--not that he has much time to do it between forecasting himself and keeping up with world affairs. Many people rely on his control for their perfect days at the park or beach or what have you, and when he messes up, things can get out of hand. So he's constantly on it.

He can have a soft spot, mostly reserved for birds and pilots, as well as a thunderous temper that can have you shaking in your boots. He can usually keep his rage under control though, luckily for him, otherwise Zeus would've electrocuted him a long time ago. He can be a mischievous guy, though


Sample Roleplay: Aeolus stared with only moderate concentration at his hands, a look of boredom behind cloudy blue eyes. He chewed on his bottom lip absently, twisting a silver ring on one finger to kill time. It was easy to multi-task sending out and pulling in clouds while watching television or playing sudoku when you had thousands of years to practice--not that he had time to play sudoku between his constant forecasts, getting his suit cleaned at the laundromat and, more recently, protecting Olympus from possible titan destruction.

He sighed a gust of wind through his nose, trimmed gray eyebrows twitching ever so slightly as he allowed massive, billowing nimbostratus clouds to open up, depositing a heavy shower of water onto the vast Brazilian Tropicana below until the sky was gray and everything glimmered.

Brazil, and every country near the equator, for that matter, were not on his favorite places list. They required an extreme amount of attention and care, unfortunately, due to the extreme vegetation there. The people of these countries strived on the products provided by the local forestry, and, to keep life continuing in that area of the world, Aeolus had to comply. Zeus wouldn't be particularly keen on Aeolus wiping out a fifth of the human race,and then he'd never get promoted.

Aeolus adjusted his tie as a nymph emerged on set and warned him that they would broadcast in thirty seconds. It had only been a three minute break--which wasn't much of a break seeing as he still had to control skies globally--but it was all he could afford. After smoothing out his pale blue suit jacket, he arched his back straight, cleared his throat, and smiled into the camera, a second nymph gesturing for him to begin with a roll of her wrist.

"Greetings, gods and creatures, and welcome back to the Aeolus Forecast!"


Image:



When his hair is gray~ Assuming a storm is coming. owo/


---


Character: Daedalus

Appearance and Personality: When people say Daedalus is the oldest demigod alive, they aren't kidding. The man has seen better days, his hair grayed and sapped of color, cropped close to his head. He also sports a short beard that begins just under his pale lips and climbs down around his lower jaw. He tries to keep it well groomed, but between fighting off a titan and its army, tinkering in his workshop, training demigods to fight and amusing his tank of a pet hellhound, Mrs. O'Leary, the task is sometimes difficult. Shaving is not always the first priority, but if he can help it he tries to keep the gray hair short and refined.

As a son of Athena, Daedalus has gray eyes, clouded with doubt, regrets, concerns, theories, thoughts, and various other things a genius of his caliber might conjure up in his mind. They are wise and all-knowing, and looking into them it is clear that he as seen plenty. Good, bad, Daedalus has experienced it all. His face has weathered many storms, and there are slight creases and wrinkles due to age, though his mouth lines are very faint from his lack of smiling. He still looks decent, though, considering he's thousands of years old. His face suggests an age in the mid-fifties, and that tends to be what he goes by. Telling a stranger you're old enough to remember ancient Greece is not an ideal conversation starter, after all. People tend to think you're nuts, and he doesn't suggest you try it.

Daedalus has a hidden identity; most of the demigods, at least when he first shows up, know him only by his camp alias of Quintus, a master swordsplayer from an unknown origin. A mysterious figure, but an excellent teacher nonetheless with a strange fascination and understanding of all things technical. He seems to have a gift with everything. Quintus/Daedalus can see the unseen, the hidden facts and reason behind behaviors and actions, as well as fancy trinkets and gizmos. From a small scale to a large one, he has at least a general understanding of it. He has been given a tragically cursed hand, having a level of skill at most everything he tries, though he derives pleasure from very little of it. In fact, what seems to make him the most happy, is playing with Mrs. O'Leary in the camp half blood arena. They have created a game of "Get-the-greek" where he tosses an armored dummy through the air and Mrs. O'Leary goes bounding after it, mutilating it completely. It is most often where he is seen smiling.

Most often Daedalus is clad in classical greek armor consisting of a beaten bronze chest plate and shoulder pads, over-top of a basic cotton tunic or even one of the vibrant, orange Camp Half Blood t-shirts. Somehow he is completely un-phased while wearing the armor, despite his pet's tendency to rip it off of the stuffed mannequins. He also wears a leather belt with his sword strapped to his side, for convenience. To teach demigods to sword fight, it would probably be best for him to have such a weapon on hand. Finally the outfit is topped out with a spiffy pair of black mountain climbing pants.

Quintus is a much brighter person than Daedalus. He is open to aiding his fellow demigods and teaching them self-defense, as well as how to properly care for their dogs(the ones bigger than cars, mind you. They require special care, as you can imagine). He makes his way about camp with a nonchalant attitude. Verbally he is polite enough, but he is reluctant to give out any personal information. He has constantly running mind, and as such is very precise with his words. He can avoid truly answering questions while still satisfying those who inquire.

Most of them, anyway. Percy Jackson is another story entirely, but he happened to see a small glimpse of the branding on Quintus that would reveal his true identity. It was a slip-up, allowing the purple-ish blotch on his neck to be seen, an underestimation on his part. But it gave the boy a suspicion about Quintus that was difficult to throw off. Otherwise most at camp half-blood were satisfied with Quintus, seeing him as just another instructor, which is exactly what he makes himself out to be.

The true colors of Daedalus are not quite so chivalrous or charming. Not even welcoming. Daedalus bears the burdening weight of knowing he murdered his nephew Perdix, sending the boy toppling off a rooftop to his death. Well, technically to his death. The boy was spared by the Goddess Athena, who turned him into a partridge, and sought revenge on Daedalus by stamping his neck with a partridge branding. It serves as a reminder for what Daedalus had done out of envy and wrath to his nephew, who, like Daedalus, was also incredibly brilliant-minded.

Daedalus is stoic, to put it simply. Cold and uninviting, a social recluse of sorts who spends most of his time creating new bodies for himself to avoid death(ironically this idea came from Perdix), being a hermit in his underground, ever-changing labyrinth creation, or pretending to be Quintus up in the camp. In his labyrinth he is always designing, always connecting and creating. Based solely on his mechanical genius one could easily mistake him for a son of Hephaestus. He fiddles with creations in his hands, fingers always moving, as quick as his mind. But in his head he grieves for the loss of his son, Icarus, and resents himself and his actions in the killing of his nephews. They are predominant thoughts in his mind while he is alone in the labyrinth, his prison.

Daedalus is very much aware of the flaws of mankind, and as such is very skeptical and weary when it comes to self-sacrifice. It will take quite a large amount of evidence and swaying to get him to partake in the helping of a specific side, especially when it comes to war. It is difficult, but not impossible. To make up for past mistakes, he will lay his life down for a cause he strongly believes in, and he will do so in a noble, heroic manner. If it means the end of him, then so be it.

Sample Roleplay: Gray eyes gazed out across the ocean of demigods all shuffling through the mess hall. It was dinner time at Camp Half Blood, a time where most of the campers--the ones who didn't hate their parents, that is--took seats at their assigned cabin tables and feasted away. Nymphs and satyrs brought tray after tray of food, unimaginably delectable meals that could've been shipped in from 5 star restaurants across the world, and placed them on the the surfaces of several long wooden tables. Lines were formed and Quintus watched as the children conversed with one another, before moving to their allotted spaces and, to no surprise, continued cheerily with their conversations. Probably conversations about the latest video game or fashion trend or who climbed the camp's death-trap of a rock wall the quickest without getting scorched.

His arms were folded over his chest, over the beaten breast plate that had lost its shine many years back and had been worn down from the onslaught of battles it had seen. That was when the armor was at it's prime. Now it merely served as a precaution, in case some demigod child managed to actually breech his guard and strike him with the blade of their sword. Not that it had every happened here, mind you. Quintus had thousands of years of practice behind his expert swordplay technique. He could hold is own against the masters themselves. A young boy with spiked blonde hair glanced up at him as he passed, a tray of food in one hand. Quintus gave a dry smile and raise his hand to give a gesture of greeting: a small, polite wave. The boy gave a gap toothed grin and waved back enthusiastically, before shuffling to his seat at the Apollo table to reunite with his friends.

When the boy's back was turned, Quintus' lips turned down into a slight frown, and his nostrils enlarged as a sigh of breath escaped his nostrils. The boy was happy, innocent, eager. Much like Icarus had been. A bright, optimistic young man. It was difficult to imagine that the bubbly boy was the son of such an old, hardened man like Quintus. Or, as he is more commonly known as, Daedalus. Much to his dismay, the boy's eagerness had been his downfall. Literally, his downfall, as his wax wings melted under the heat of the blistering sun and he went plummeting into the ocean, where he drowned. Presumably his lungs filled with water and exploded. Quintus couldn't imagine it was pleasant.

His face softened at the thought, and, if only for a quick second, his expression resembled that of a sorrowful one. How he missed Icarus.

He glanced back at the boy, who probably didn't even realize the analysis that Quintus was making with the gears that churned inside his head, his ever running mind. The boy wouldn't remember waving to Quintus. Wouldn't remember smiling so fervently. Wouldn't remember his animated wave. It was saddening, how blissfully unaware of the trouble that not only he, but his friends, and the entire camp were in. How an army was under their feet, growing more powerful by day. Rage against the gods bubbling, fomenting until it would eventually explode. Surely, there would be casualties. He wondered if the boy would be one of them. It was likely. The boy was young, inexperienced. Should the camp go to war with the Titan's demigod army at that exact moment, should the floor erupt and legions of skeletal soldiers and hellhounds come bounding up from the depths of hell(or the labyrinth, though they were rather smiliar, in Quintus' eyes) the boy would have a sword cutting through his mid-section before he could even comprehend what was going on. He was so innocent, it was tragic.

He smiled sympathetically, with a slight shake of his head, before pushing himself off the wall he had his back too, allowing his arms to drop to his sides. Biding his time with slow, casual steps, Quintus made his way across the room to an empty seat besides the portly, bitter god who served as the camp's director. To the children, he was known as Mr. D.

Fingers wove together and his hands clasped together on the table as he sat. He scanned the caustic god for any sign of acknowledgement, before finally resting his eyes on a shining silver coke can sitting on front of a Mr. D's plump fingers as his hand was sprawled out on the table. The man seemed rather at ease considering the impending doom of the camp, he mused. So when will you prepare for war?

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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Tue Jun 05, 2012 9:05 pm



Reserved for Cosmo.
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Tue Jul 24, 2012 9:51 pm

I don`t see it in your eyes
Just a cold blank stare
And no one's asking why
Why you don`t seem to care
We`ve lost our way, lost our way



Maybe we`ve run out of time
driving ourselves out of our minds
Maybe we`re missing the signs
All of our dreams making us blind
Baby we're leaving behind
Nothing to see, nothing inside
We're out of our minds with nothing inside
Grayson D. Bates;;
Gray, G., D.B., Bateman
Male
18 years in counting
March 12th
Son of Hephaestus[God] & Randi Bates[Mortal]


Wiry- A slim figure with slight muscle definition apparent in the lower torso area as well as the forearms and calves.
Russet- Wide-set eyes that are somewhat smaller than the "average." The iris' are a russet brown with miniscule flecks of rust that twinkle only occasionally, while under the substantial amounts of light. Gray's also got rather pronounced, sagging lower eyelids that cast shadows around the rims of his eyes.
Tousled-soft, black hair with a natural forward flow. Thanks to being only one to two inches long, the hair is not easy to knot. It maintains an appealing shine about two days after conditioning.
Clear-Blemish free, olive skin that provides a minor resistance to burns. When Grayson does burn--which will happen given several hours of sun exposure--his olive complexions darkens to a tan brown, with a minor mixture of pink. While it may not necessarily resemble sunburn, it still hurts to the touch, as any burn would. And it will still peel.
Pointy-Unlike his rugged father, Gray's got rather pointed, almost feminine features. He's been blessed with a semi-high cheek bones and an extremely pronounced jawline that curves into a soft, rounded chin. He's got a long, pointed, almost-pixie like nose and soft red lips. Seeing Grayson give more than half a bemused smirk is rare for anyone that he isn't particularly close to.
Inked- A green tattoo of two identical koi fish circling one another is stitched permanently into his left deltoid. They are woven into a modern, graffitied Pisces symbol, drawn into a radiating sun-shield. The tattoo spands approximately an inch from the center each way.


Imaginative- Among his most treeasured, valuable traits, in his opinion, is his imagination. G. believes that, without imagination, one cannot possibly wish to explore and discover. And without exploration and discovery, there is no accumulation of knowledge. Therefore, no human growth. He constantly dreams of other worlds, different, unique worlds with unique inhabitants and inventions. Unearthly, incredible things that, with current technologies couldn't be possible. This trait goes hand in hand with his analytical side.
Analytical- to scrutinize and decipher, in short. As is common of Hephaestus kids, G. has keen eye for technology and the way things work. He can see things piece by piece, sifting through and collecting information, connecting the pieces until he's aware of what he's handling. Challenges are to be broken down, using his rational, factual side.
Witty- Sharp tongued and quick to strike. Like a cobra Gray is ready to react with stingy comments. They're not always nice, but give intellectual credit where it's due.
Relaxed- Level-headed and almost charming in times of panic, Gray knows how to keep a lid on it when he needs to think, assuming he's given his space.
Impatient- He wants it, and he wants it now. They sad part about being a genius inventor is that you know how to build it, but you want it to be done without putting in the tedious work effort. Not only is he weak when it comes to waiting for his own work, but he's quite a pain when waiting on others, too. He wants things done in an instant--needs things done quickly or he becomes irritated.

Shaky- There isn't always a clear cut answer, and to ignore the possibilities of a negative outcome is stupid, to be frank. Even if he has the equation perfect, there is always some sort of doubt in his mind that it isn't. He has little faith in himself as a person and demigod to accomplish important tasks. His self-worth is almost non-existant and he is absolutely disgusted with his own personality and powers.
Skeptical- G.'s self-doubt is equivalent to his doubt in others. He is not easily swayed into believing other people, whether it be about the result of an experiment or how they feel about him or whether they are who they pretend to be.
Gentle- The deep rooted fear that he will fail and potentially destroy everything in his wake has conditioned Gray to treat people and things alike very delicately, despite his rough exterior. He is extremely gentle and soft-hearted deep down, feeling quite the sympathy for those facing problems and pains. It's safe to say that G. even has something of a nurturing side to him.
Adventurous- Curiosity and excitement will gleam in his when Gray discovers something new. He has a hard time saying no to questing and journeys, even if they've advertised as being deadly or extremely hard. Challenges are welcomed.
Reliable- Leaving someone behind is not an option. He will do anything in his power to ensure the safety and happiness of his companions. He has an especially hard time fighting old friends turned traitors as it just feels wrong and guilt eats him up inside. Whether he could actually kill a traitor has yet to be discovered--but it is clear that he has inner-conflict with doing so.
Rough- Heart and kindness isn't something immediately noticeable. Gray tries to keep up a rugged exterior so as to keep people from getting close. It spawns from his hatred in himself and, sometimes the world, and leave him giving off vibes of anger or, in the least, irritation, rather often.

Churning Gears- The ability to short circuit minor technology, such as microwaves and computers through a combination of thought and touch. He has to consciously think about the inner demolition of the wires, gears, and various pieces inside the technology, as well as touch it with some part of his body--usually his fingers but desperate times call for desperate measures. If he isn't sure of how it works, he can't break it. If it's extremely intricate, he can't break it. If he doesn't know the pieces inside of it, he can't break it.

When he can break it, he gets a second degree burn on whatever part of his body is touching the machine(this is a variable due to pressure sensitivity). It does become exhausting, and after busting three or four PCs, he's left feeling somewhat lightheaded. He is capable of abolishing the occasional car, but becomes nauseous, dizzy, and otherwise incoherent upon doing so, and he thinks he might have what it takes to take down a helicopter, but he's never tried under the impression that if he failed, he might explode or something else strange like that. His power boosts with adrenaline, so when extreme emotions are triggered, they amplify somewhat. And for what it's worth, Best Buy probably can't re-assemble your computer if he breaks it.


Buzz from the underground- Hadix is a high-functioning automatonic dragonfly with a slight glitch. Quite the large specimen he is, body spanding approximately 8 inches from head to tail-tip. The metalic body is painted a sleek black, with the exception of the wings. The wings were left unpainted and so they are gleam pieces of a thin, but powerful metallic mixture of silver and alluminum. They are extremely flat edged, thin pieces that, when beating, move so quickly that it's hard to actually see them at all. Touching the wings while they beat at full speed is something akin to putting your finger through a large spinning fan. Grayson has been known to throw fruit at Hadix to be made into smoothies.


Hadix was designed with eye sensory that can do a 280 degree scan about 15 feet in front of him. If something moves, Hadix can sense it and focus in. While Gray didn't think to give Hadix xray vision, the bug does have heat sensory and can pick up on increases in heat signatures. He also has two antenae on his head made semi-thin wires that can pick up on the vital signs of living organisms, given 5 full seconds of contact with skin.

Built with a F.E.E.L. program, Hadix can use his vision to pick up on body language, primarily of humans, and can read emotion on a basic level. He can also copy this emotion, using signals of his own that don't always align with the proper feeling--one of the glitches Hadix has. The second glitch lies in the self-destruct option. Hadix can serve as a small missle, using heat sensory to lock onto specific targets that Grayson either verbally or manually enters the codes of into Hadix's abdomin(Hadix is a mini-computer. Yes, he is a wifi hotspot, and yes, he can google your homework answers), but sometimes Hadix faces predetonation without specific target. Grayson isn't sure why, but when Hadix uses the F.E.E.L. program and grows excited--and he means really excited, Hadix begins to shake and vibrate, as if his server is overloaded. He buzzes--one of the sounds Grayson programmed into him--and shakes before finally explodes into many, many pieces. Grayson has tried assembling Hadix again and again, but somehow he faces the same glitch each time.

As a pet(when he isn't exploding) Hadix rests on Grayson's shoulder, wings folded in(they're of a slightly different design than an actual dragonfly, allowing them to find in and compact) making him almost travel convenient. He occasionally flies around Grayson's head, or if Grayson has no use for him he flies around CHB, chasing and analyzing creatures in the woods.Hadix is something of a derp, and has exploded on Grayson on more than one occasion, but still Grayson shares an awkward bond with the robo-bug, having had some copy of it since he first built its prodotype when he was 14.

Tools of the Trade- Grayson isn't a particularly complex fighter; A simple, bash-friendly object will do. And for that, he uses a particularly long wrench. It doesn't slice and dice like a sword, but it's still probably best to avoid contact with--especially when he's swinging it around. The boy has a particular giant wrench that he fancies made out of celestial bronze that he affectionately named Georgia. When Georgia isn't three feet long, she's a cute golden pocket wrench that, as suggested, Grayson keep's in his butt pocket. Under no circumstances is anybody ever allowed to touch Georgia unless they'll being brutally smashed by her.

Trial and Error- Nobody can be good at everything, but with plenty of effort and the sacrifice of some sort of time, you're bound to get good at something. Grayson chose to sacrifice social life--actually, socialization chose to sacrifice Grayson--and he picked up a few skills hermitting in his basement for years. First off, he's hella good at first person shooter games on the x-box. But probably more important, Grayson has a knack for inventing. It runs in his blood.


The boy's not very flexible or fast, but he's having so many machines literally explode in his face has given him a relatively high pain threshold. And the sleepless weekends of hovering over a new, shiny project has given him quite the level of stamina and endurance. He's average at throwing punches, but he can take a lot. Keeping him down is something of a difficult task, as monsters and inventions have discovered in the past. For Grayson, it's a game of outlasthing the enemy. Exhaustion can be the difference between life and death in a battle, and that's where Grayson triumphs.

Wrestling combat is something Grayson is average at. Likewise with close combat such as sword fighting or thumb wrestling. For him, lethality comes in the form of a small metal sling and a bag of heavy ammo. He's got percision down like it's nobody's business, having to cross and insert wires and tubing regularly, so the son of Hephaestus is gifted in methods of combat that require good aim but allow for silence and thought. He's good with a bow, and amazing with a slingshot. And when he's shooting rocks or shrapnel or acorns at you, it's sure to leave a bruise. If he gets you in the eye, expect to wear that eyepatch for a very, very long time. And he can get you in the eye, if he wants to. Never underestimate a genius whackjob with a rubber band.

Baby Steps- The funny thing about being a demigod is that quite often, your family avoids telling you until something goes terribly awry. Like, when you're in 5th grade computer class, and all the other students are writing "The Cat Stands Around In The Quiet Meadow Of Flowers." When they make a typo, simple, they delete it and carry on. When a demigod makes a typo, sometimes the computer explodes.

So maybe it wasn't just one typo. Maybe it had been about a dozen in a row and Grayson felt like he wanted the computer to be chucked out the third story window. Yeah, in theory he wanted the computer to explode. He wanted it to until it actually did in a fiery erruption of nuts and bolts and somebody's copy of Portal. Flames licked at the ceiling and Grayson stumbled out of his chair with an incoherent hiss onto the floor. His index finger seared with pain and, upon examination, it was bright red and raw to the touch. He let himself fall backward, his head touching the cold tile floor and he looked up at the ceiling and tried counting the ugly tile pattern. One, two, three, nonono, he had counted that one. Start over. One, two, no, no he skipped like four of them. How was this difficult? They were different colors.

But the colors swirled together and faded in light, and Grayson couldn't get the shrill ringing out of his ears. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he let out a final groan before passing out.

Later that day, Grayson woke up in a hospital bed, faintly hearing a woman's voice through the other side of the door. Being the curious mind that he was, he sat up to listen. As the grogginess and diziness went away, the voice grew more clear. It was certainly familiar, and struck a bell has his mother's voice. The crazy old bat was at the hospital with him, and she was clearly angry with something.

"You, YOU let this happen to my son!" She boomed, and Grayson could imagine her jabbing someone in the chest with her stubby little finger. "Your technology shouldn't explode in the students faces. That could've killed him! Bam! Boom! Dead, dead, dead!"

"Ma'am I assure you I-"

"Oh no, don't you dare oh no me. There are so many lawsuits against them and I guarantee you will be hearing about every single one of them! I pay good money to get my Graybear into private school, and for what? This is ridiculous!"

Gray grimaced at his mother's use of his petnamed. No PDA, Mom, no PDA. He imagined that whoever his mother was talking to probably held a high position on the district's school board.

He heard an audible sigh from the other party, and then something about free Tuiton for the next two years--it sounded like a mumble. Obviously, they weren't happy about giving out money.

His mother cackled. "Tuitition? That would imply I'm leaving my child in that wretched, flammable school! Oh no, I expect a wheel barrow of gold bricks at my door in a week. Or a fully payed trip to Disneyworld! Or a cab to Long Island!"

"Long Island?"

"Yes, Long Island. I intend to move Graybear to a private school there. Maybe by the Sound it'll be more peaceful, and he'll have a body of water to roll into, Gods forbid the teachers light him on fire!"

"Nobody lit your son on fire."

"Your computer lit my son on fire! Technology is evil! BWAGH."

Suddenly Grayon's door opened and his mom stomped in, smashing it closed before the other character, an older man with thinning brown hair in a gray suit, was able to say any more. She smiled sweetly at Grayson, and winked. "Guess who's going to Long Island?" He thought she'd been kidding about Long Island thing...But his mother was a strange woman--she'd nearly been institutionalized when he was 8.

Apparently going to Long Island wasn't debateable. When he'd returned home from the hospital later in the day, two bags were packed and waiting at the door. His mother cackled, and hurried forward, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the car. "Come! Come! We've much to discuss!" She practically sang, grabbing one of the bags and Grayson took the other and followed obediently.

"Mom...?"

"You're the son of Hephaestus."

"Mom..."

"And you're a demigod."

"Mom...."

"Graybear?"

"I gotta pee."

They took a stop at the gas station and Grayson tried to wrap his head around what his mother was saying. He came to the conclusion that she was a total nutcase.

They passed the building in Long Island, and then the towns, and then some woods. Grayson had no idea what he was supposed to do, especially when his mother stopped the car in front of a dusty old sign and told Grayson to get out. His bags were thrown from the car, and he turned around to look in the window. His mother grinned sweetly.

"Have fun, honey! Don't forget to wash behind your ears and pray to your crazy father at least once a night. Also, watch the satyrs! They'll eat your invention materials." With that, she made a U-turn on the road. "Love you, Graybear~" And she drove away.

Gray just stood and watched, not entirely sure how to continue with himself. Finally, he let out a sigh, and turned to face the trees again. His mom would probably be back for him later once she realized he was punted from the car. Until then, he thought he'd explore. Lugging his bags behind him, he moved into the shroud of trees and brush. He pushed foreward, maybe for half an hour, until he found himself in front of a large house. On the deck was an old man in a wheel chair, who gave Gray a smile. His eyes showed wisdom, and understanding. Gray could see he had been expected.


"Your mother told me you would be arriving soon. Come, let me show you around." Grayson gave a slight nod, and brought his stuff onto the deck. He finally arrived at Camp Half-Blood, and the rest is history.



Last edited by Crank on Thu Dec 06, 2012 9:16 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Sniggle
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Fri Aug 17, 2012 12:01 am

Spoiler:
 

Photo by ~Sun-Kissed-Soul on dA!

Azurite
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Sniggle
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Age : 22
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Mon Aug 27, 2012 8:24 am

vat

was skye on my account or something?
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holycrapitsdean
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Mon Aug 27, 2012 8:31 am

Lol, no it was me and Zelly/Charlie/Banana XD
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PostSubject: Re: Sniggle's character Vomit   Today at 4:46 pm

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