{I TYPED MORE FOR CHB THAN MY ENGLISH ESSAY WHICH I'M SUPPOSED TO HAVE FINISHED. oh well.}
Half-Blood
Name: Andrew (Andy) November Hyrulean
Age/Birthday: 15, [Nov 17, 1996]
Gender: Male
God Parent: Hephaestus
Claimed:
Yes. In battle with the first monster Andrew ever encountered (a young feral Hellhound), Hephaestus granted him a pair of lethal shortswords, one made of Celestial Bronze, and one made of a matter similar to Imperial Gold. As a result, his weapons (see below) consist usually of this pair of shortswords. Both were stamped with a glowing wrench.
Mortal Family:
***Original Mother Dead: Named Christina Hyrulean {Killed by a manticore shortly after the birth of Andrew}
Adoptive Mother: Angela Riveria
Adoptive Father: James Riveria
Years in Camp:
0 [so far]. After being claimed at the age of 14, Andrew still lived with his adoptive parents in the lower Ontario, Canada, constantly being bullied for being intelligent and weaponry-obsessed [weird affiliation with Athena and Ares?]. Then he was evacuated to Camp Half-blood after his house was burned down by a stray injured dragon, which was later mistaken for a large predatorial bird and killed with a massive explosion by the RCMP.
Brief History:
Born in Sudbury, close to the Big Nickel, his mother was killed and he never knew his father. After being pulled from an orphanage at the age of 2, he was adopted by Angela and James, two stern but loving parents who tried to keep him in line {Living in Toronto}. However, at school, where he was a grade-skipper due to intelligence in mathematics and physical sciences, he was bullied and shoved around a lot. After a late growth spurt at 13 years old, he grew to 5’8” and began working for his parents in a metal-stamping business. Isolated mostly at school, he joined a Craft club and devoted most of his time to creating robots and miniature vehicles of war. On his birthday at 14 years old, during a fire drill, he was attacked by a Hellhound and ran all the way towards the closest town, where he was given his claiming and weapons. A team of demigods returning from a minor quest in the Arctic brought him to CHB.
Physical Appearance:
Pale, easily sunburned skin, with an unknown background that seemed to flip from European to East Asian to Russian from day to day. He is tall [almost six feet] and medium built, however not fat. He has black hair and chocolate brown eyes, which scare the living daylights out of people he treats to the ‘Ihateyousopleasegodie’ stare. Believe me, he’s had lots of practice. He’s not light and focuses on heavy combat. He can run for longer periods of time than most people, but his sprinting is terrible. He also has a scar running across his right arm which he actually has no idea where it came from.
Personality:
Some girls tend to be very drawn to him (:3), as he has a protective aura of people who actually get to know him very well. He is a bit socially awkward, unable to admit heartfelt feelings easily and also unable to pick up on some social cues. He however snaps quickly at people who he cannot tolerate, and will keep them in his bad book [which is probably sixty thousand pages long], where they will have to dig their way out, or go deeper. He can act extremely stupid at some times.
Fatal Flaw:
He feels he can solve all of his problems by himself, and group work isn’t for him. In fact, he may try to help others too by shouldering their burdens.
Pets:
None. Absolutely no pets, whatsoever. What are you looking at here? Go on!
Talents:
Not juggling, that’s for sure. He is excellent at building robots and creating new ideas for war equipment. Andrew also forges good weapons, except for daggers. Strange curse. He is also a decent match for hand-to-hand combat, but hates personal long range, i.e. archery and throwing stuff. He can play the piano and the guitar, that’s a talent, isn’t it?
Weapons:
Dual-wield shortswords, different blade but near-indestructable black wood hilt, guards, and pommel.
Modified close-quarters AR-15 that shoots replenishing celestial bronze bullets: each reload makes Andrew feel more exhausted.
Year-Round or Summer:
Year-Round
Other: Nothin’ to put here, really.