Lilith Jade Montgomery.

Twenty-four || May 10th || Taurus

Female

Demisexual.

Melungeon & Irish.

Fourteen total: Ten to complete her service in Camp Jupiter. The other four in New Rome.

The Underworld.

On the outside looking in, Lilith is one of the most happy, socially awkward people that you could ever meet. Always saying something goofy, and having a way with words, she's the kind of girl to have a handful of friends - though she prefers spending her time alone. Having social anxiety is perhaps the reason for her social awkwardness, which makes it hard for her to pick up on social ques, or integrate herself into group settings. She may come off as a bitch from time to time; Rather this is because of her sarcastic remarks or the way she rolled her eyes - well, that's up to you.

The fun, somewhat shy, bubbly side is the mask that Lilith wears on a day to day basis. However, that's the cover-up that she puts on. The truth is, Lilith suffers from depression. The girl tends to keep her emotions bottled inside and simply does her best to release them through writing, studying, and marijuana usage. A people pleaser at heart, Lilith will bite her tongue until she simply cannot any longer. This causes her to 'blow up' on people, leaving her to feel guilty about it later.

Lilith is a very loyal person, and will do practically anything for her friends. She doesn't trust or get attached to too many people. Second chances are rare, and do not come easily. A promise means everything, and she will never break one. Lilith is honest to her core, and her respect is earned. She has no time for cruel or false intentions, and expects people to treat her with that same respect.

She is typically found writing in her journals or listening to music. With a close emotional connection to the night sky, Lilith enjoys spending hours outside at night staring at the stars. An even stronger connection to the ocean, she has no hesitation with driving to the coast for the weekend. Stubborn as can be, she sometimes has trouble accepting things as how they are. Her witty remarks often get her called sharp tongued; her dark humor winds up in her getting called crazy here and there.

The young woman hates drama, gossip, and any other thing of the sort - though she has no problem listening to it. She just doesn't want to be an actual part of it. Of course, if you ask her how she is doing, you will receive a "great" and a goofy thumbs up. Not being able to express herself truthfully angers her to no end, though, just like her true feelings, she doesn't let it show. In short, the girl is a half read book. To know her, you must first know the whole story.

TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal ideation, self harm, and very brief mentions of drug use.

Born in the Underworld, Lilith was left by Trivia on her biological father's door step, with a letter attached to the woven basket she was left in. Confused, the young man gave the child to his sister, Claire, who was unable to have children and raised Lilith on her own. Claire had grown up hearing whispers from her grandparents that gods sought out members of their family to have children with, and more importantly - that she and her brother did not share the same mother, for his mother was the Norse Goddess, Frigga. Claire put the letter up for safe keeping, knowing that one day Lilith would be heading off to Camp Jupiter.

Claire was always open with the fact that Lilith was 'adopted'. but never really told her who her parents were. It didn't cause any resentment for Lil, but it did raise a lot of questions. The young woman has seen shadows out of the corner of her eye, and heard whispers in her ears for as long as she can remember. Claire sent her to a child psychologist who ultimately wound up at a loss on what to do. Lilith continued to see strange things. One of the most common was the shadowy figure of a woman outside her bedroom window each night. Sometimes, Lilith would swear that the shadow figure was watching her. Other nights, the shadow would be chasing the monsters and other bad guys away.

Two weeks before Lilith's tenth birthday, Claire planned an early birthday celebration in their back yard. A picnic - just the two of them. Lil didn't understand why they were celebrating her birthday so early, but that didn't matter. She was getting to spend a nice spring afternoon with her mother, munching on her favorite foods and snacks. After the birthday wishes' were wished and the cake was eaten, Claire made sure that Lilith was safely buckled in the car before beginning the drive to Oakland Hills. Over the course of the next few days, they drove from North Carolina, all the way to California. Claire did her best to describe to a very young Lilith that her grandmother was a goddess, and how her mother also was. How their family had always been chosen for strange things like these that they couldn't quite explain. When they arrived at the Wolf House, Claire gave Lil a backpack of supplies that included the letter that Trivia had left with her when she was born.

Lilith trained with Lupa for a total of three weeks, and then made her journey to Camp Jupiter. Upon her arrival, Lilith gave the letter that her godly mother had written all those years ago to the then Praetors of Camp Jupiter. They revealed her godly ancestry to her: Daughter of Trivia with Frigg as her legacy. Whispers washed over the crowd that had gathered for the Praetors decision. She was placed in the fifth cohort almost immediately.

After her arrival at Camp Jupiter, Lilith's powers began to manifest themselves quickly. While she didn't mind being in the lowest cohort, Lilith knew that she could do better - even at just ten years old. Still, she made the best of it. The young girl began to learn Tarot from an older son of Trivia that was placed in the Fifth cohort at the time. Visions of a distant future began appearing in her dreams the closer she got to her half-brother. A few weeks before Lilith's twelfth birthday, her half-sibling was sent out on a quest with a few other members of their cohort. Lil had a dream the same night that they were all in incredible danger. She woke in the early hours of the morning, rushing to tell her friends near by. She had guessed a few things right before with her visions and dreams, but never nothing this serious. Her friends convinced her to go to the Centurion anyway. The Centurion then took her to the Praetors, whom they all begged for an audience and to listen to Lilith's warning. It wasn't an easy feat to get them to listen, but ultimately in the end, the Praetors agreed to send out a rescue party. Due to Lilith's quick need to inform, the Legion was able to recover all of their members safely. This earned Lilith a promotion to the fourth Legion.

While both honored and welcome, Lil's promotion did not come without it's challenges. Her premonitions started to freak out other campers. Her Norse ancestry began to get her bullied in her new cohort. At just thirteen years old, Lilith found herself feeling what one could only describe as depressed. She threw herself in to more of her studies, studying more Tarot and beginning to learn bone throwing as a form of divination. Withdrawing from her peers and friends, she began to self harm. If you asked her why she started physically harming herself, she wouldn't be able to tell you why. She hadn't heard from Claire in what felt like forever, and was beginning to feel more and more alone. Lilith began to have even darker thoughts; her visions were getting more and more confusing. Sleep was hard. Not freaking out everyone she spoke to was harder. In an attempt to fit in, Lilith began to look more into more 'Roman' forms of Divination. She began with weather watching, and then bird watching. While her mentors agreed that her ability to divinate was impressive, it still did nothing to keep bullies away.

Lilith earned her promotion to the third cohort when she was chosen to go on a quest at the age of fifteen. The completion of this quest brought temporary honor to the fourth cohort. Her current Centurion personally recommended her for promotion to the third, seeing as how Lilith's visions helped them so much on their quest. This also got her promoted to Camp Augur at the same time. Lilith happily obliged, hoping that the way she would be treated in the third cohort was better than how she had been treated in the fourth.

She was half-way wrong. Some people were more harsh, others were more inclined to mind their own business. It was a double edged sword; on one hand, she was left alone - on the other, when people did bully her, it was worse.

Lilith met her godly mother, Trivia, for the first time shortly after her promotion to the third cohort. Trivia allowed her daughter to scream at her for abandoning her, to which Trivia retorted that Lilith had never been abandoned. Instead, Trivia had allowed Claire to raise Lilith in the mortal world, while she protected her in the world of shadows. In other words, Trivia was the shadow figure that Lilith had seen all of those years ago. After all of the technicalities were out of the way, Trivia gifted Lilith a book on potions & divination and sat with her a little while longer for some conversation.

Lilith eventually learned how to stand up for herself, and even made a few friends in the third cohort with time. The young woman got to see her godly mother on random occasional visits to New Rome. Somewhere along the line, her self harm became less physical and more emotional towards herself. Lil was appointed & elected as Camp Augur at the age seventeen. This seemed to boost her in some sort of strange popularity, but she never considered herself to have more than a hand full of friends.

She completed her years in the Legion at age twenty, and retired to New Rome with a newfound hope. Lil was able to find a nice house in New Rome for purchase, and shortly thereafter was able to open her Apothecary with her co-owner, Eden.

Lilith wouldn't say that she is cured from her depression, as sometimes she does still find it creeping in. However, she's relatively content these days with living in her own space, and smoking her own weed.

Trivia - Roman Goddess of magic, witchcraft, the Mist, crossroads, necromancy, the night and the moon.

While Trivia has always been open and even proud about Lilith being her daughter, Lilith see's her as more of a close mentor and protector than anything. This isn't to say that Lilith and Trivia aren't close. Lilith just see's her mortal step-mother Claire as more of the person who raised her and earned the 'mom' title.

Frigg: Norse goddess of prophecy, marriage, rain, motherhood, fertility, family, clairvoyance, wisdom, and fate.

Former member of the fifth, fourth and third cohorts.

Current camp Augur.

Hero Complex - the want an need to save everyone, regardless of how bad they are.

Sabina Delphi Kiskova

Twenty-five ☣ August 3rd ☣ Leo

Female.

Pansexual.

Italian Roma

Ten years at Camp Jupiter || Four in New Rome.

Rome, Italy.

Sabina presents herself as a loud, friendly, chaotic person. A relatively laid back individual, Sabina can slip back into a more serious attitude whenever she needs. She falls in line where she has to, but does her best to remain her individuality while doing it. Honor and tradition mean everything to her. With a quick wit and an even faster desire to strike, Sabina has landed herself in a fair share of fights. Quick to think, and even faster on her feet, Sabina has always made a formidable warrior in the ranks of the Legion.

She is determined, adaptable, and ambitious. She's loyal and sympathetic - two things that make her such a great friend to have. Underneath her wild shell, Sabina is often times doubting herself and looking for ways to 'prove' herself instead, tying her self worth to the way people treat her. Her brain is always moving a million miles and hour, and she's always throwing herself at the next task so she doesn't have to process her thoughts. Sabina is slow to trust, and even slower to truly get to know. She's the not-so-perfect balance of sweet and sour.

TRIGGER WARNING: Child abuse, Religious trauma, brief mentions of death & car crashes.

☣ Was born in Rome, Italy. This was where her mother met Pluto on summer vacation. Learning she was pregnant, Kezia decided to stay in Rome for the next year so that she could give birth to Sabina safetly. Money troubles cause Kezia to move back home to a small town in nowhere Alabama with her parents. Kezia was only eighteen at the time, causing her extremely religious parents to feel anything but what one would describe as happy.
☣ Kezia reluctantly returned to college, studying for her nursing degree while leaving Sabina in the care of her grandparents. While Sabina's grandfather was cruel, cold, and wanted nothing to do with the child - her grandmother, on the other hand, made sure that Sabina was clothed, fed and taken care of. When her grandfather wasn't looking, Sabina's grandmother would quote bible scriptures to her softly, and tell her stories of the gods that weren't in the book that grandfather taught from every Sunday. Sabina's grandfather, on the other hand, was a cold and cruel man. He would hide his abuse towards Sabina behind his faith; no meals until you could quote a verse perfectly. If he hit her, she had sinned. He did these things mostly in secret until Kezia was in a fatal car crash, leaving Sabina in the care of her grandparents at 9 years old.
☣ After Kezia's death, Sabina's grandfather got worse. Instead of having the option to go to church like she always had, she was forced in the doors every time they were opened. He chose to preach to his granddaughter just like he did his congregation - angrily, and by striking fear into their hearts.
☣ Sabina's grandmother chose to take her on a road trip for her eleventh birthday. Her grandfather had began to fall ill and had recently had a heart attack, leaving him in the hospital. With their freedom, Sabina and her grandmother spent a week driving from Alabama to California. They ate shitty diner food, stopped at all the tourist attractions and exchanged memories of Kezia. The night before they drove into California, Sabina's grandmother chose to tell her who her father was, as Kezia had told her this secret many years ago. She went on to explain further that she, herself, was a daughter of Bellona. Her grandmother gave her a brief run down of Camp Jupiter, Lupa, and a quick refresher on the gods. To say that Sabina was confused was an understatement. Right up until she wound up at the Wolf House.
☣ Sabina trained with Lupa for several weeks. When she arrived at Camp Jupiter, Sabina was quickly sorted in to the first cohort. It was here she served as Probatio, and then messenger for a year. She then served as medic for three years. While serving as Medic, Sabina got to be part of a quest that ended up in her being promoted to Centurion. She served for Centurion for a year before she was elected as Praetor. Sabina served as Praetor for a total of four years.
☣ After serving her years in the Legion, Sabina retired in New Rome. While at university, Sabina majored in philosophy. She was going for her Bachelors, but wound up dropping out on her third year, only earning herself an associates degree.
☣ After college, she got a job at the local bistro in New Rome. While making coffee the age of twenty-three, Sabina realized that she wanted to do just a little more with her life. She signed up to be a camp counselor. With her history in the Legion, Sabina was quickly chosen for her current position.
☣ She now lives alone in her home on a private drive in New Rome. Sabina doesn't get many visitors, but that's okay. Spending her days around the kids is more than enough.

Pluto, Lord of the Underworld: God of the Dead and Riches.

Bellona - Roman Goddess of war and conflict.

Former member of the first.

Current Veteran and Camp Counselor. Former Praetor.

Personal Loyalty: Sabina would do anything for those she cares about. It's landed her in sticky situations time and time again; The young woman never seems to learn her lesson, and continuously puts herself in horrible conditions for other people. She often sees the potential in people more than what they have shown her they are.

Luka Matthias Bolea

27 || August 4th || Leo

Male

Heterosexual

Hispanic

16 || 1 || Currently Serving at Camp Jupiter

Ensenada, Mexico

Luka works to embody the soldier, the warrior, the hero, a constant work. His is the instant, the first decision oft the best because the second-guess is the dregs of regret in the mind, though that's not to call Luka pig-headed or stubborn. Heeding the advice of other veterans and the more experienced of his comrades is the true of a capable soldier in Luka’s mind, though he does often need to be told such things than ask first.

To his subordinates, the Centurion tries to keep the voice level, the concerns heard, and the orders absolutely and utterly clear. If they are afraid of him and his opinions, they will never lay out their own, their own issues, their own problems, and such problems of the severity requiring the Luka’s intervention fester against the Cohort and against himself if left untreated. Plans must be laid out in as full a way as possible, with the reasoning present, for the soldier to understand the importance of the plan and their role in that plan. Luka tries to foster this understanding within his Cohort and veterans, and in exchange for that loyalty is more than willing to stand against any outside the Cohort - even those also of the Legion - who threaten one of his. Such isn’t to say that he wouldn’t punish one of his own, but Luka is loathe to allow another to plague one of his. To his equals and indeed superiors, Luka keeps his views to himself, his operations to himself, guarded in nearly all things. Professionalism above all, the Third’s Centurion rejects most venues for relaxation among the other Centurions.

On the battlefield, he is the bullhorn of the Third, the beacon. A man of momentum, Luka holds great preference to the attack, to the closing of that distance, often making a point to pressure his foe with infantry formations while moving skorpios to punch through their shield lines at close range, inviting the enemy charge or shift. Luka does enjoy the closer aspects of combat, though, and is no willow towards involving himself directly in the fight.

Off the battlefield, Luka is a notable taskmaster towards his Cohort. A believer that all legionarii should know the siegeworks, that such would make the work faster when it really counted, he involves every member in the trenchworks, as well as the construction of bridges, pitfalls, and siege engines. He keeps himself distant compared to most other Centurions, as well as taking several trips to the encamped fauns nearby simply to interact with those outside the Legion, to try to work with such for any future gains, to try and just be.

Born in Ensenada, Mexico, Luka Matthias Bolea would stay with his mother for his earliest years. He never met his father as a young boy, knowing him only from the stories told that made out such a man as a figure of wonder, of a different sort altogether, an agent not of the government, not from America, not of the cartels, but a hero whose journey took him near and far. He would complain, of course, that he never had met the man, that he could be here instead of there, that it would be better, and she would shush him on such ideas. They received letters, every now and again, written in a strange hand with a strange cant, but letters all the same from his father Alkaios. Luka read them again and again, imagined himself along his father, imagined himself as his father. These were daring dreams, a mixture of James Bond and Zorro, but dreams all the same.

As a kid, going through school and the rest, Luka stood out enough. He would do well in athletics classes, do well at soccer and seemed to excel at dodgeball. He was stronger than every other boy, sometimes faster, and seemed to get engaged with the idea of sport in a way that simply wasn’t possible with academics, with writing or math or science. Teachers would say he was destined to be a soccer player, sometimes, and the idea of a stadium watching was exciting to the boy.

At age ten, though, he received a different letter from his father, one that was true enough. There was no name, no real explanation, but it did say that as he grew older, there would be more danger, more eyes on him. Luka’s mother treated it seriously enough though, and that was good enough for him to treat it seriously. It said to travel north, north to Tijuana, to a certain address, to a certain man named Jose who would help him across that border. She gave him a knife, gave him fare for a bus, and off the kid went. It was strange in a way, strange to Luka, strange to his mother, strange that both seemed to step in the moment to accept it as simply the way things had to be, but that’s as what happened. Off the boy went to Tijuana, off on a bus where no one seemed to take great notice of him, and off through the streets of the city he went to find the address.

The city was strange, too, and he saw things in the distance which flew like bats and yet had the legs of people. He heard gunshots in that same distance, and the ambulance sirens, and the screams, but on Luka walked to the address. He knocked, was dragged inside by a man who was neither rich nor poor, not at all very remarkable, and told that the way forward would require a little job done. Jose asked the boy to go to another address, work for another for the day, and come back in the evening once it was all said and done. He found that odd, too, and was wary of not only one who he had never met, but yet another third party who he had never met, but Luka looked back on the letter, on what his father had said, and steeled himself to the idea. If his father trusted Jose, well, then he had no real other choice than to trust Jose, and besides that Luka had no bus fare for the way back to Ensenada.

He agreed, went to the address given, and found three giants of men at a scrap yard, working away to melt down the various bits and pieces for their own purposes. The three bid him work a bellows, and continued on for hours away to feed bits of scrap into the fire. After the second hour, Luka began to tire away, begin to slip and falter in the pace, and after another thirty minutes the three men began to complain. Through the heat and exhaustion, the boy started to see dog’s heads and clawed hands, and he paused again to ask them what they were. They laughed at the ignorance, told him to continue working and then they would answer. He had but an hour to go, after all, they chuckled out. And so, on Luka went, straining and heaving and working away because it seemed pretty well evident that there was little other choice. An hour passed like a day, and by the end the boy felt like jello.

They laughed again, called him a distant relation - after a fashion, of course, and handed him an arrow they had forged with the blackest fletching. The three found the whole to be a joke, a grand moment not to be ruined by the slaughter of a fool, the angering of two gods however minor, and sped Luka to the door. He trundled to Jose, slow as molasses, knocked on the door there. He found the whole of it to be funny as well, on seeing the arrow, and knew that a choice had indeed been made. The boy slept for the rest of the night, woke up to the man presenting a sheaf of documents from a birth certificate from Fresno to a US passport - complete with his leaving the country a month prior - this, that, and the other. They crossed the border quietly, easily, as though something even more had smoothed the way along.

And up they traveled, on a Greyhound bus that creaked fiercely, to San Francisco. When Luka finally arrived, a great building of wooden beams and a great black wolf stood before him. She named him as a son of Hercules, a descendent of Lugh, a story Luka had heard before and a name he had never encountered, and that he would be trained for the future, for the Legion, for something Luka had never heard of before as well. He would be trained by Lupa for five weeks, left away in the wilderness to find the lodge away, hunt away in the forest for rabbits, trained as his body began to embrace the gifts of his lineage with the knowledge of its existence. Luka grew stronger by it all, as well as receiving a letter from his father explaining the whole of it.

When Luka came to Camp Jupiter, he would be placed in the Fifth Cohort as a probatio, a sign of disfavor by his lineage to Lugh. In most ways, he had no idea who the god was save for what Lupa had said, nor did he have any real way to reach out to the far-off Celtic deity. No, instead Luka buckled down for the long haul, for the year of work. He would dig the trenches, clean the aqueducts, unclog the sewers, week after week after week, all along with the training of Latin, of learning Roman history, of things that Luka could grasp yet found painful in a way. A year came and went, a year of very little happening at Camp Jupiter, a year where very little happened for Luka save for the making of just a few friends here, there. He would attain that rank of legionarius, a full member of the Twelfth Legion, and stay with the Fifth.

Six years came and went, as Luka grew to the role of healer at age thirteen, a task he felt worked best as during many a war game the young camper was among those who dragged the injured away from the front lines. His gaining strength made this a far easier task than many of the others, and as time passed despite all the jokes and issues and faults one could make with the Fifth Cohort, Luka was proud enough to call himself a legionary of them. He would learn how to handle - how to truly handle - the unicorns with respect and care, how to shave their horns, how to make the various treatments. The quiet to it was good for him, in a way, and he made friends with the other healers. Luka, at the age of fifteen, would go with several others on a quest to Gila Claw, to hunt down an automaton which had continued its operation. The journey was not as hard as the fight in the end, the legionnaires using road flares and smoke to disorient the metal dragon, forcing it to land in a crash before sons of Vulcan used thermal lances to cut away at the head of the creature. It attempted to fly again, to breath fire, and succeeded in setting itself on fire. Aside from a great many burns, Luka didn’t have much to do with the event, and they went back to Camp Jupiter with its salvaged hulk to melt down and repurpose as needed.

At the age of seventeen, Luka would volunteer for the position of Centurion - the previous had found himself at the end of his service, felt that he could do more good in New Rome than anywhere else - and through the aid of the Praetor found himself in that role. As Centurion Luka took care to distance himself socially from the rest of the Cohort, finding it an abuse of power should he actually find any relation there which might cause some accusation of favoritism even if there should be none, and through this grew to be known as a hard-charging, but fair leader. Luka pushed his Cohort to do better, be better, pushed them so that every member dug the trenches, every member capable and ready. Though the Fifth would not flourish as much as the Centurion hoped, they did notably better than before.

After four years, though, Luka’s time in the Legion was up and he was given a choice to go to New Rome as a veteran, as a citizen. He took it, and spent a year trying to find something there that truly gave him as much joy and interaction, as much satisfaction, as his time in the Legion. Luka tried his hand at being an apprentice for a smith, learning how to work various metals, and found he had a good mind to it. Yet there was something always missing. After a year, Luka returned to the Legion, asked to serve again.

Since then, for the past five years he has served as Centurion of the Third Cohort, continuing that tradition of his in attempting to raise the entirety of the Cohort, in trying to inspire the rest of the Cohort. Luka has taken up a habit of visiting the faun encampments, halfway to enlist some of their help in the aspects of healing, halfway to verify his own belief that fauns are far more useful than those of the Legion think, halfway to find someone he could simply talk to.

Hercules - God of Strength and Bravery, Heroes and Protection, Sports and Labors, Fertility and Health, Agriculture and Harvest

Regularly distant, often on account of Hercules being somewhat busy as far as gods go, they maintain semi-regular contact every month or so with a good degree of awkwardness from both as one is still wary of his own skills on account of Jupiter and the other always preoccupied with his own strifes. Hercules has taken some degree of interest in helping Luka in his martial skills, though, with a few ‘lessons’, more akin to tests, scattered throughout the year.

Lugh - God of Justice, War, Kingship, Craftsmen, Skills, Trade. Harvests

Third

Centurion of the Third

Distant is the Leader

Derex Steiner
_{↳Common nickname: Rex
Common title/Callsign: The Bull}

28 | May 10th | Taurus

Male (born as one and identifies as one)

Straight

Caucasian (German, Austrian, Roman)

Total: 17 years
Arrived at Camp Jupiter when he was 11 after spending some time with Wolfmother
After his 10 years of required service and an additional 3 years he willingly signed up for, Rex proved himself and moved to New Rome when he turned 25.

Birthplace - Rothenburg ob der Tauber, Bavaria, Germany (lived there for 5 years)
Hometown: Chicago, Illinois, USA (lived there until he was 11)
Current home: Camp Jupiter (from ages 11-25), New Rome (Age 25-Present)

🐂 Height: 6'5"/193cm
🐂 Hair: shaved | Dark brown || Rex typically doesn't keep his hair. He shaves it regularly, preferring the feel of a shaved head (either buzzcut or getting as close to the scalp as he can). He does, however, keep a facial hair assortment (sideburns, beard, and mustache). He's been told it looks good on him and he has to agree.
🐂 Eyes: Brown
🐂Body Type: Built like a bull: powerful. Muscular. Robust. || 255lbs/116kg
🐂 Clothing Style: A Demigod of many skins, Rex always embodies "Beast Mode" regardless what he's wearing. It's a state of mind at this point. Always appear ready, be fit, be stylish but always be ready! In his younger days, Rex was the type to wear loose fitting shirts, basketball shorts (and shorts like it), Jordan Airforce 1s (he has a massive collection), and an assortment of single-colored chains (typically gold or silver) and watches that would make even Flavor Flav jealous.

In recent years since he moved from Camp Jupiter to New Rome and Rex matured, so did his style. Now he has replaced the shorts for jeans and suit pants. He's replaced the loose shirts for dress shirts that stick to him like the golden armor he wears into battle. He still wears his Jordan Airforce 1s, but as a senator, he also has extended his collection to include top of the line dress shoes made from the finest leather money can buy. His accessories haven't changed. He still has watches and chains, but now his closet includes one other addition: suits. Most of them single colored but Rex has enough suits that would let him wear a different one every day of the calendar week. You may see him in red or blue or a deep orange or dark green or black or white. Just think White Steve Harvey (but with thinner eyebrows and a not so-Mr-Potato-Head face.)
Casual
_I
II
III
Armor _{Armor was also worn during his Centurion days
Armor
Special Bull Helm}
Senate
_I
Formal
_{Toga
Suit I
Suit II}
🐂 Body Markings: Over the years, Rex has...acquired many scars and general markings on his body for one reason or another. Some through painful reminders that some campers wanted him to remember and some were simply decisions made by him.

Scars — Rex's brand is on his right forearm. He gave 13 years to service, so he has thirteen lines.
He has many scars across his body. Some have healed only partially. Mainly they're on his torso and back, but one that originated as a training lesson gone wrong is above his right eyebrow. A bad spathas blow nicked him so good that even after healing, it wouldn't fully restore. Rex prefers it that way. It's a scar that reminds him of where he came from and how hard he had to fight.
Piercings — Just his ears. One ear actually. The lobe.
Tattoos — Three - a bull's head across his back.
A green tree over his heart in honor of his Eden. It's a circular design with a tree held within it.
On his left forearm, a hammer with lightning around it in honor of his legacy.

Rex has always and continues to be an audacious and bold individual, often with a dose of recklessness and some bullheadedness. He values the friendship of those he cares deeply for (and even those who he might simply be acquaintances with). There is no single person in his life that he wouldn't give his life for. He would never sacrifice them to save his life. At times, especially during battle (and it's written in the records) that Rex willingly put himself on the line so that others were able to move on into safety. Those people were weaker than him but he never saw them as lesser than him.

That's the kind of man that Rex Steiner build his reputation in Camp Jupiter with. His very first act came even before he arrived to camp and so his courage and bravery started from the very beginning with an act that impressed so many. And sometimes, to his own fault and against the advice of others (those probably trying to keep him from dying) he kept at it. Every single time, Rex put his neck on the line for his fellow Demigod. Whether it was a team challenge or simply force partnerships, in his mind, it would not serve either of them well if he just looked out for himself. Rex has never done that. There's not a single selfish bone in his body, even if it would serve him better to show a little of that.

What Rex does have in his body, however, is a fuse so short and a temper so quick to trigger that you wonder just how this man made it all the way to Senator of New Rome. During his younger years, he was tormented. Whether that was because of a "hazing the new blood" approach some older campers had or maybe it was that they hated he dressed better than them, but he knew: Thor claimed him as his legacy from an early age and when word got around, people hated that. And maybe somewhere in his mind, that made him want to fight anyone who dared look at him.

Younger Rex might have been a courageous, bold, sometimes stubborn boy, but he was also going nowhere. He was The Bull and all he saw was crimson. Years of conditioning and self-therapy via training and finding a friend in Avery to ground him, Rex became the man that he is today: a still courageous, stubborn bull who now has a grip on who he is, what he wants, and where he's going. He lives to serve his people as one of their representatives on the Senate, which he will do everything he can to help them. As he always has.

🐂 Rex was born in a small town in Germany
🐂 Olyanna Huber would meet Mars when she was just 19 years old. She had just moved to Bravaria and on the off chance, she was in a market and in classic meet-cute style, she met Mars...though at the time, she only knew him as Marco. For five months, they were in a relationship. On the last night, when she was told who he was, he gave her a necklace and to give it to their Son. Mars would visit once more when Derex was born. Mars was the one who named him. That was the last time they saw each other.
🐂 He lived in said village for 5 years with his mother, father, and baby sister (she is 3 years younger than he is)
🐂 His father (or who he'd know was his father for a time) came from nothing and was part of a long line of lumber mill workers. His family owned it
🐂 When Rex was five, his father sold it and used that money to move his family to Chicago due to a job offer to manage a Boxing Gym
🐂 They moved into a small apartment and then eventually into a house. It was nothing major but it gave them a home. And Rex a foundation
🐂 While living in Chicago, Rex started to find friends and a passion for three things as a young boy: boxing, sports, and Power Rangers. God he loved that show and because it was the perfect example of normal people doing saving others whenever they got an alert. Rex identified with that. Sure, bright colors and high-octane action drew him in but Rex could see the themes, he understood the message, and that's what really drove him to become the man that he is today.
🐂 During his youth, Rex was always getting into trouble. He was always bigger than most kids his age and sometimes those who thought they were big would like to pick a fight with him and that's why Rex took up boxing. He wanted to fight back but soon learned he had a knack for it and hit too hard. Sometimes when he would hit, the kids were unconscious, so he knew he had to find ways to not hit them as hard and had to learn control. That's where Boxing and Meditation came into play. They helped him center himself.
🐂 Sometime during his last few years (he didn't know this at the time), Rex started to see weird symbols in class. It started only happening a couple of times a week. But over the course of a few months, he'd see them anytime he read, answered a text message, looked out the window, and even when he was just laying in his bed. It got to the point where he couldn't go an hour without seeing them: weird symbols, foreign to him
🐂 Throughout his childhood, Rex had always felt a presence near him. He couldn't explain it and sure as hell couldn't quite put it into words, but there was a force always with him. In his dreams and in the back of his mind. That voice would give him advice, make him think smarter and not harder. That same voice became increasingly louder and louder as the final months and weeks and then eventually days that Rex unknowingly would spend in Chicago.
🐂 Then that voice appeared to him in a dream. Rex was standing at the center of the Chicago Bulls arena, dead center where he had seen Jamal Johnson score a half-court 3-pointer to win against the 76ers to win the All-Star game. There was a wolf, black as the onyx dagger his father has in his office and with eyes almost as red as the Bulls image, spoke to him. "You little shit, this is where you choose as your home away from home? Fine. Listen here, boy." He spoke and Rex had to blink cause he swore it was just his imagination, but then the voice spoke again, "You're gonna be leaving this dump of a city. And yes, you probably will fight it but man the fuck up! You are my son - A son of War. The Son of Mars and all this shit you've been seeing for months put a target on your back. Go find your mother, tell her 'the sun sets west and the wolf howls a path' that woman will know what it means." Before the voice inside the wolf left, he turned and almost like a smile. "Rex, you're gonna have a tough life. You're gonna hate it at that Camp, especially when they find out about the other one looking out for you, but as my witness, I, Mars, the God of War, claim you as mine. And when the time comes, maybe we'll share a cup of wine and actually talk shit out. Or you can fight me. Once you've proven yourself."
🐂 And so it was. Rex went to his mother, told her what happened, and after some hard truths, Rex went with Olyanna, his mother, on a flight for Oakland. It was the most silent that either of them had gone but before she would have say goodbye to her 11 year old son, she gave him a necklace. It had a three-inch diamond (more shape than actual diamond) serving as the pendent part and she told him "Squeeze it when you feel in danger. Your father...Mars wanted me to give it to you when the time came." And Rex would soon find out, a lot sooner than Olyanna probably anticipated, that the pendent was a short sword (a spathas) and as he and a few other Demigod children were going down a tunnel, allegedly to meet Lupa, the Wolf-Mother who would take them in to raise them. Before that could happen, though, creatures that looked like imps were coming down the way they came and Rex didn't know if the others had means of defending themselves, but Rex didn't wait. he took his necklace, ripped it off his neck, squeezed the pendent part, and it grew into a short sword. Rex was large for an 11-year-old, which helped him. He swung for dear life, not having actual training and allowed the others to escape.
🐂 Rex's heroics didn't last long because the imp-like creatures were overpowering him, but Wolf-Mother saved the day and scared them off with one roar. He didn't know what to make of it. But he was told there would be a wolf named Lupa that would take him in, raise him until he was ready.
🐂 Three weeks later, Rex would officially make the venture to Camp Jupiter, where he was soon branded with a mark, given the purple t-shirt, and placed into the 4th Cohort.
🐂 Mars was right. Life for him, despite being a Son of Mars, wasn't easy. Only after a year of being at camp, people bullied him, berrated him, subjected him to physical labor and tasks that they thought he couldn't handle, and even when he impressed them, they still bullied him. This all happened and kept happening. Rex took it with a smile on his face. He didn't let them show weakness and maybe it had to do with the fact that on his first month of being at camp, he displayed an ability, even if it was just very minor, that wasn't tied to who his parent was. An electrical charge during training showed everyone that he not only was a son of Mars, but the Legacy of Thor. Thor himself would come to Rex in a dream, admiring his bravery, tenacity, and how he defended others.
🐂 But of course, this came at a price. For the entirety of his first five years, Rex endured painful experience after painful experience until he proved himself. Until he became the Centurion of the Fourth Cohort.
🐂 Although Rex still caught the glares, as he sometimes felt that the people of Camp Jupiter would never fully accept him, he did, at least, have their respect. To him, that was more important than them liking him. He proved himself, he gained a position worthy of that hard work and all those days of enduring their abuse. That alone made it worth it.
🐂 Eventually, Rex's years of service came to an end. He would no longer be in the legion by force, but he stayed on for two more years, allowing himself to leave it behind when he turned twenty-five. After that, he left Camp Jupiter for 6 months. Fully trained and armed with a spear, armor that can activate on a moment's notice, and a sword, he was well-equipped to protect himself or others. Rex had to take time off so that he could spend time with his family. Over the years on quests, he would visit them. Sometimes with a blessing of camp and sometimes he had to do it in secret (a punishment would be handed to him because of it) but every seven months, he'd at least spend a night with them. He'd ensure that he wasn't a ghost to Wolfgang or Olyanna or Helena. They would remember him as he had never forgotten about them.
🐂 After those six months, Rex would return to Camp Jupiter one final time as he would, in a sense, acscend to New Rome, where he lives currently. He still serves the Roman people and the demis that are still coming. He serves them and protects them, but no longer as the warrior he aspired to be and achieved. He does so as a Senator of New Rome, someone who has a voice in how things get done at Camp. He wants to make life easier for those who aren't accepted but it's a hard battle (all of which he loses). But he continues to fight for those who can't and he will continue to do so until he dies.

Mars, Roman God of war, guardian of agriculture and the Roman people

In the beginning, it was like being lost in a cave with no light or no radar: no way of knowing where you were going, but eventually Mars claimed him and a relationship started to build. First it was like a tempest, then like a weakling soldier fighting a Roman Legion commander but then at times, the advice of one would reach the other until now it's become a relationship of respect. Mutual respect. Rex admires his father but understands he is a god. And to Mars' credit, he is trying. Rex understands that and doesn't hold it against him. Rex may, at times, do things to get under Mars' skin just to fuck around with him.

That is the kind of relationship they have.

Polemokinesis/War Manipulation — Though he is a true Son of Mars, he is only demigod, so Rex may not have absolute influence and control of all things war, but he does have an extended control over outcomes of war, most things combat in war, and has proven to be a capable leader when war and/or general team events happen. By tipping the odds slightly in his favor, he can determine a plausible outcome.
Telumkinesis/Weapons Manipulation — As the son of Mars, Rex has a known mastery and knowledge over weapons he takes a liking to and the ability to use them effectively. He's been known to prefer the use of the Spathas (short sword) and Plium (Javelin/Spear), though he also makes use of a Warhammer in honor of his legacy. It's untraditional but such is the way of Rex.
Pyrokinesis (limited) — Rex has a limited control over fire. He cannot generate enough fire to cause a wildfire, but he might be able to generate a reasonable stream or a volley of fireballs - both of which may require an existing source or may need something to spark it like a burning object or a literal spark.
Necromancy (limited) — Rex is able to raise simple skeletons and nothing more. They are usually armed with a helm, sword, and shield, often that of fallen Roman soldiers.

Thor, Norse God of thunder, storms, strength, protection, fertility, farmers, and free people

Electrokinesis (limited) — Due to Thor being the God of Thunder and him claiming Rex as his legacy through bravery and valor, Rex has limited electrokinesis. While others who are more direct descendents of lightning and thunder and storm gods, Rex can discharge electricity from his fists or channel them into weapons for that extra edge. He normally does the latter and it's been given a few names over the years: Thunderclap, You Got Rex'd, but his favorite is Thunderstruck. Named for both his favorite song by his favorite band but also because they are struck by thunder, but they never see lightning coming.

Fourth Cohort. There were times where Rex could have risen to higher - maybe third, but he opted to stay in the Fourth, to grow and show himself as an example of what one could be through hardwork and determination.

Rex was the Centurion of the Fourth Cohort shortly before he retired to New Rome. He served in that role for 4 years, serving 3 additional years when he willingly took 3 additional years of service.

Recklessness — From as early as the moment he set foot in Caldecott Tunnel, displays of Rex's recklessness (coined Rexlessness by many) were shown. His heroics on that first day were a first of many that would earn him this reputation of putting others over himself, often taking in their punishment so they didn't have to get hurt. Or during physical events, he would always volunteer first. Or in some other cases, Rex simply did a lot more for the sake of impressing the Romans who saw him as less than they were, though it came at a physical cost. This would be his fatal flaw.

As the son of war, Rex does, theoretically, have the innate ability to use many kinds of weapons with an almost master proficiency of them, but the ones specifically listed below are to be assumed as his preferred/most commonly used weapons.
Griðungrhorn _{(norse for Bull Horn or Wrath of the Bull)} - An enchanted warhammer partially of norse design. The schematics were gifted to him by Thor and brought into fruition from his own hands and Noah. It's a basic, two-handed warhammer that is enchanted with runes of norse origin but also with roman runes to enhance its overall capabilities. In his every day life, it is carried around in the form of a ring that he wears on his right middle finger, but when force is applied on it, it expands into the warhammer.
Ungubius — The first weapon that Rex learned how to use, as well as the first one he came accustomed to liking. He tried his hand at the gladius, as well as the javelin/spear. While he can use them without fail, there's something about the Spathas. And specifically the one he had personally forged the minute he became centurion of the fourth cohort. He wanted something that reminded him of his trials. That one weapon that would forever be with him and thus his Spathas was made: The Ungubius, or the Bull's Talon. A mighty weapon that is sharp, lightweight, and in the hand of Rex, quite deadly. At its core, there is nothing outrageously extraordinary about it. It does not have runes inscribed on it nor does it have an elemental affinity, but Rex has mastered it, so it is special and deadly in his hands. It is the only weapon of his that does not have a dormant form. It is with him always on his right side.
Manica Martis _{Gauntlets of Mars}— Though nowhere near the same level of strength or quality as a god-made forge would be capable of, these Gauntlets of Mars are undoubtedly as powerful in the demigod equivalent. And they are a personal gift that Rex received from his father. The second personal gift. They are forged in the fires of Vulcan via Noah in the classic imperial gold and enhanced with runes on them designed for a Son of War. When dormant, they take the form of two bracelets on each hand that Rex also wears at all times. The one worn on his left wrist is engraved with the symbol of the bull, Rex's personal animal association and the one on the right is engraved with the symbol of the wolf, the animal closely associated with Mars himself.

🐂 Understands and speaks fluent latin and german (including some old norse)
🐂 routinely works out that includes many of the things he used to do on the regular when he was in service🐂 In the world of gods being real and being the son of one, Rex somehow continues to keep his faith. He's always been a spiritual person (religious not so much), but he has been — and remains to this day — a Norse Pagan. Perhaps this is why his connection to Thor was that much stronger because it's always been there since birth. His family has a long history of devoting to Thor.
🐂 Not to sound too corny, but Rex uniornically enjoys long walks along the coast. Whether it's cause of the location near Oakland or maybe it's enhanced by some magic unknown to him, it seems so majestic around the time between the Summer and Winter solstice. He likes that shit.
🐂 Rex maintains a steady diet of a lot of protein, which is accented by his general love for food. He cooks a mean grub. It has nothing to do with any of his godly abilities (he's not Grover). This comes from a lot of trial and error. A lot of overcooked steaks, a lot of undercooked chicken that he had to throw out, blandly seasoned (or lack therof) salads and general attempts making him sick. Rex has managed to have a masterchef-level degree of skill. Eden seems to like it.
🐂 As a senator, Rex takes the feedback from Camp Jupiter seriously and always tries to hear what they want or need and make sure, at the very least, the senate hears what he has to say. He can, sometimes and definitely with good intentions, be a bit brash and abrasive in how he approaches it. 🐂 Rex's favorite scents are sandlewood, freshly cut grass, and the smell of the smoke from a hot forge. He also likes the smell of lavender, for however faint it might be.
🐂 He's a big fan of professional wrestling. Always manages to catch the weekly programming whenever he can. No matter what.
🐂 Rex is left-handed
🐂 Politically, if Rex were to assign US politics to him, one might say he is a centerist with left-leaning beliefs. He is morally a progressive and those show in the policies he tries to make happen with the Senate (though not always
🐂 Rex's faceclaim from the ages 11-21 was Javon Walton
🐂 He has three dogs: Mjor(mi-johr), the German Shepard, Jordan (named for Michael Jordan), the pitbull, and Queen, the Norwegian Elkhound
🐂 Had a bad experience with past children of Juniper who were the sole reason for most of his torment during his early years at Camp Jupiter.
1.) War is a Siren
2.) The Devil is the cooliest
3.) Nyx is best. End of story.

Georgina Janel Russo
_{↳Common nickname: Gigi
Common title/Callsign: Knifeedge}

22 | November 21st | Scorpio-Saggitarius Cusp (more Sag than Scorpio)

Hot ass female (She/her)

Mentally, she's a pansexual
Physically, she's a raging bisexual
Spiritually, she's a demiromantic

"I don't know, I'm a complicated bitch."

Italian (Venetian, Roman)

11 years - ten in Camp Jupiter, 1 year in New Rome, living with her sister.

Venice Italy, lived in Tuscany Italy until she was 11.
Spent some months in the Underworld before venturing to Camp Jupiter

Height: 5'6/168cm
Hair: Light Brown || Smooth, wavy, layered || Drops down to her mid-back || Tends to leave it be, but sometimes loops it into a single ponytail, sometimes a high ponytail, and sometimes braided. Gigi will also experiment with space buns and the like || Uses accessories to enhance the look of her hair like broaches, clips, hair ties and even decorative accessories like flowers.
Eyes: Hazel green (or brown depending on the lighting) || Deep purple when Diana's Blessing is active
Body Type: Hourglass figure that leans on being toned || "This isn't just good genes. I worked hard to achieve my body. And damn it, if it makes me sound vain but I know I look good!"
Clothing Style: Gigi has always been something of a "more black the better" kind of girl. A lot of the kinds of clothes she wore growing up and also the kinds she wears now (though not as much now) has always been black, grey, some red, but definitely black. Her style has been called "Edgy biker chic". Which, to her, that wasn't completely far off. She has always dressed like someone who grew up in biker culture: leather jacket, dark colors, band t-shirts. Even as she grew up, most of that hasn't changed, but she's learned how to change her style up just enough to stay true to her roots but be hot about it. She goes with bold colors like a pink skirt with a black top. Or red skirt with black top (because red and black ALWAYS go together). She goes into different designs like pokadots and striped and even some floral-patterened sundresses feel nice.

But one important thing to note about Gigi is that she likes showing off her body. Tastefully, mind you, but she has no shame in showing a bit of skin. Yeah, definitely might be a little vain.
Casual
_{I
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Leather Jacket}

Party and Formal Wear
_{Clubbing fit
Formal Sexy
Formal Formal
Dress I
Dress II}
Body Markings: On her right inner-forearm, Gigi has her brand of her papa's sigil, SPQR, and an individual tally of the ten years of her service.

She doesn't have any other tattoos to note of.

She has five piercings in total: earlobe, helix, eyebrow, nose, and right eyebrow.

As far as any scars, Gigi has a few from service that have mostly healed on her back. She does retain a nasty scar she acquired during a training session in her fifth year of service that went from her right shoulder to her elbow (outer arm) that never properly healed, so it's a nasty scar.

At her core, Gigi is a truly and deeply empathetic person. She feels intensely with others' pain, she understands it, and she weaps for the loss of life more than anyone you could know. Because of that, she keeps most of her feelings sealed behind a semi-facade of confidence. It's not a complete ruse because she is confident. She acts the part, she is brash when pushed, and her whole demeanor is strike first and hard. It's not exactly off-putting. She's never mean intentionally, but she does carry a lot of sass in her. This is her way of coping with the eternal sadness in her heart for the constant loss of life she can sense. That same of loss of life flips her like a switch. Maybe an undiagnosed bipolar or just...really in touch with her feelings, but once the loss of life happens, Gigi's bravado and confidence is rendered down to someone overwhelmed with emotions, almost giving her a temporary state of depression.

To her friends and family she has at New Rome, they know what signs to look for. Gigi is a talkative person. Always smiling. Beaming with energy and life, but in that snap, she'll go quiet. She'll isolate herself to the point where you won't see her for a week. Her heart is full, but when it breaks for the passing of souls, that death sense of hers makes her as dead as them but more like the kind of wandering soul without a guide. It passes eventually, but it lingers until she comes out for air. Those close to her know to let her come to them rather than them trying to force it. In this state, there's something of a stubbornness from her own will that refuses to do anything but wallow in under the cloud of despair her empathy creates.

In direct contrast of her sister, Gigi's relationship with Pluto is supremely more positive and involved. She loves her father and he loves her. She knows he'll always be there for her when she needs him (as much as Pluto can, at least). That's all the comfort that she needs.

🔪 Necromancy — Gigi, being the daughter of Pluto, is able to command the dead. She can take recently passed souls (within 90 hours of passing) and raise them up into inanimate objects such as suits of armor, or simply as skeletons from graves, and she can command them to do what she wants them to. In her Camp Jupiter days, she would use them in battle, on quests, during training, or really in any combat situation; in recent times, however, they have become her slaves.

Cleaning slaves, that is. Her home with Sabina is big. It's a glorified mansion, so it takes a lot of cleaning. That's a lot of time to devote to such a thing and it's time that Gigi simply doesn't have. Thankfully, she and Sabina can summon their own souls and get the job done twice as quickly. #worksmarternotharder

Gigi can summon up to ten if she's focusing, otherwise she five would suffice. And they can be taken out with a focused strike or some middle-of-the-ground spell.
🔪 Umbrakinesis — Darkness has always been in Gigi's life. For as long as she could remember, it's been one of her main comforts. And now, she can command it. She can wield in ways that protect her like wrapping herself in it, concealing her presence from others (only those of the Underworld would be able to detect her or those with a heightened sense of things). She can also use it in offensive means like knives and bolts of darkness. Her preferred method, however, are tendrils of darkness. They spawn from the shadows when she points at a direction. They are thin but deadly and with pointy edges that can pierce flesh and crack marble. When focused, ten can come to her aid but five is at any given moment. In this case, it is concentration that is key. Distract her and they will lose half their effectiveness including sharpness.🔪 Geokinesis — Gigi has shown the ability to move the earth, create stone of black and hurl them at opponents. She can cause fissures in the ground (similiar to the same effect of a minor aftershock of a 4.0 earthquake or lower). Her control isn't absolute like her father's nor catastrophic like other demis of her ilk, but she is quite capable of handling herself with earth.
🔪 Chrimatakinesis (limited) — Because of her father being a god of wealth as well, Gigi is able to manipulate wealth to the extent of being able to tell real money from fake money, barter in shops as long as it relates to cash exchanges, and surprisingly, she's kind of a wiz at math. Go figure, huh? 🔪 Death Sense — Less of a power and more of a feeling, Gigi has always been able to tell when someone's soul is about pass through the river and into her father's domain. It's been with her for as long as she can remember. It started when she was really young and when her Mama was sick. She could tell her mama's time was coming soon. And because she can't turn it on or off, it's tied directly to her empathy and when it happens - when death comes and takes a life naturally - she feels it in her soul. Deep depression overtakes her and almost makes her catatonic. The side effect of it being the only ability she has that she has zero control over.

🔪 Enhanced Hunting — Gigi is an expert tracker and hunter, knowing where to strike an animal and how to find it should she need to. She even rivals the Huntresses of Diana (of which Diana has stated Gigi has an open invitation should she ever desire it).
🔪 Knifemanship - Gigi knows how to use a knife and knows how to use it well. Given that the knife/pugio is her preferred weapon, she can use it with an absolute mastery of skill. She knows how to use other types of knives, daggers, and even very short swords if given enough time.
🔪 Enhanced Vision - Gigi's ability to see far exceeds that of a normal demigod. It ties in with her ability to hunt and hunt well. She can see nearly two miles ahead of her when she focuses and about a mile ahead of her when she isn't.

Second Cohort.

Never went past seasoned grunt. Gigi wasn't built for that kind of responsiblity.

Crippling and Isolating Empathy — To sum it up, Gigi hold a deep empathy for life. She feels the weight that the loss of life brings into the world. If it's someone she knows, it's a danger to her own life, but the general loss of life: an animal, a fellow demigod, or even nature itself, she feels it so intensely that it sends her into an emotional catatonic state of depression. One that makes her isolate herself from her friends, from her family, from everyone that wants to help her. It's her version of the manic stage of Bipolar: where she has her highs, she has her lows and the lows happen every time death comes.

🔪 Corda Degli Inferi _{(Rope of the Underworld)} — A highly durable rope made from rendered down stygian iron into a mix of fabric and iron that can easily attach itself to the bottom of any small projectile. In its dormant form, it takes the form of a onyx-colored bracelet with green jewels around it.🔪 Stygian Iron Gladius — The perfect fusion of her Roman heritage and underworld ties, Gigi's preferred close-quarters weapon is a gladius. The double-edged nature works in her nature because she trained herself to utilize it with minimal recoil. Unlike the common gladius (and most roman weapons) being made from Imperial Gold, Gigi's Gladius was forged from Stygian Iron, making giving it a black hue with a silver sheen.

🔪 Not only can Gigi speak fluent Latin due to her Roman heritage, but she speaks fluent Italian (all dialects) thanks to her being born in Italy. As a result of this, as well, Gigi's voice has a deep quality to it, but with an italian accent
🔪 Gigi might have an undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder
🔪 Her favorite colors are crimson red, periwinkle purple, lavender, and black
🔪 Her favorite flowers are orchids and poppys
🔪 She is a big fan of old school romance movies like Cassanova, modern horror like Get Out and Insidious, and pretty much all 80s coming of age movies by John Hughes. Honorable mention to Edge of Seventeen.
🔪 Her favorite genre is "badass female rock", meaning bands like The Pretty Reckless, Halstorm, and Evanescence. She also loves solo artists like Ariana Grande, Rihanna, K. Flay, and Bishop Briggs
🔪 Gigi's happy place is in the forest/woods. Whenever she wants to decompress or just get away from everything, she likes to camp out there for a week. 🔪 Her love language is spending time with those she loves
🔪 If you want to help her feel better, cook for her. Or let her cook. Honestly, food is another love language regardless. She really loves food and especially pasta. Authentic Venetian pasta is superior to anything else
🔪 Loves to party and socialize with everyone and anyone! Any chance she gets to show off a new fit that she got from the underworld or some trips she made to Milan. Fashion is important to her
🔪 Owns a Yamaha Cruiser Motorcycle that has been outfitted with a Stygian Iron framework, allowing to be used as a catalyst for Shadow Travel.
🔪 Has a year old Hellhound named Lucia. She is very fond of Sabina's Rex.
🔪 Smells like incense, dry soil, agarwood, and wildflowers.
1.) War is a Siren
2.) The Devil is the cooliest
3.) Nyx is best. End of story.

Jeremy Rajesh Grover
_{↳Common nickname: People just call him Grover
Common title/Callsign:}

25 | February 20th | Pisces-Aquarius Cusp

A very loveable man

Pansexual - he's a lover all people

Indian (Punjabi), Greek (Divine)

7 years - Did his time at Azkaban Camp Half-Blood, retired to New Rome when he was 18

🍇 Conceived in LA
🍇 Spent his first decade +1 year living in New Orleans
🍇 Spent the duration of his teen years at Camp Half-Blood in Long Island, New York (ages 11-18)
🍇 Currently lives at New Rome, located somewhere in Oakland Hills, California

Height: 5'10"
Hair: Brown with light brown/blonde highlights || wears it in many styles as well as just letting it hang down. It is shoulder length.
Eyes: Brown
Body Type: Lean
Clothing Style: Eccentrically independent. That is the best way to describe Grover's style. But that shouldn't be surprising for a son of Dionysus, who is the king of independence and just being extra. In Grover's case, his extraness comes in the form of bold colors, odd choices in accessories and attire suck as his trademark feather jacket. His large totem-like necklaces he always wears, the beeds around his wrists. Warm colors like orange and red and brown and sometimes even pink. He wears knit beanie caps, has too many pairs of sunglasses for his own good (all of them tinted a dark red violet).

Casual
_{I
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III
IV
Feather Jacket (worn always)
His sunglasses}

Party and Formal Wear
_{Semi-formal
Semi-Formal II
Your personal Love Guru}

Body Markings: No excessive scarring to note other than a mostly-healed scar on his back.

But he has made many additions and alterations to his body. Including three piercings: helix, lobe, and nose - all right.

Grover has many tattoos including a lotus flower on his right inner-wrist, a cross on his right bicep, a yin-yang symbol on the back of his neck, and grapes on a vine on his stomach.

Jeremy Grover's life has been a series of amazing, if not weird, miracles one after another.

And it all starts with his mother. The ever glamourous and equally unique, Priya. One of Bollywood's most iconic actresses. Her charm carried her through that tough world as a child actress, her edge when she was in her teens, and as it would follow, the overwhelming charm she had propelled her into a successful Hollywood career. But we're getting ahead of ourselves here. Priya, born Priya Singh, she comes from the ever famous Bollywood royalty family, The Singhs and always in that family, pressure to do well is the highest, but Priya never had to worry about that. She always held that calm approach by always knowing she would be fine.

And maybe that's the sort of attitude that drew a certain god of wine and madness to her. See, Priya didn't know who he was when she met him. It wasn't like he knew who she was either. According to what Grover could recall, the meeting was an one-night stand. But one thing she always said is he never hid who he was. He introduced himself to her as Dionysus, but Priya figured he was some artist or actor like her who chose a one name stage name like Beyonce or Cher. She never thought he was the Dionysus, Greek God of Wine and Madness and Theater.

But for one night, Priya had her best night ever. He was charismatic, funny, and even though she knew her Jeremy got his hair from her, she was crazy - almost mad - about the curls.

And she had one night and woke up with a note.

"That was fun, Princess Priya. But I couldn't stay. Had to get back to my camp. You probably won't see me again for another 12 or 13 years. Tell our son about me and when he starts seeing funny letters, don't be alarmed of a goat man. Or woman. They'll help."

She didn't really get it, but Priya laughed it off. Dionysus had always been one for his maddening ways of speaking.

But as sure as she had loved that insane man...God, over a decade later, Priya Singh, who was now Priya Grover, the wife of a co-star she fell in love with, George Grover, was always looking for signs. She now lived in New Orleans and her son had started to show signs of her one-time lover. Not so much in how he looked - his hair was smooth and straight like hers, but she could see a wildness in his eyes. Something she remembered from that man. But then it started to happen. It was in small doses, but whenever Grover was in school (he would be twelve at this point), he started to experience a difficulty of how to read. First it was unable to focus, but he had always been like that so nobody really paid any attention, least of all his parents. He always was lax too, so when his grades went from a high c average to a high d average, disappointment happened but again, nobody really paid any mind.

But then it became more. He started to see symbols. Odd symbols. Symbols that felt familiar to him. His history class was covering Ancient Greek and the Spartan War, so what he saw, what was written on the blackboard about the war, he saw it in ancient Greek lettering and he could understand some of it.

This is when something miraculous happened. His childhood best friend, Raymond, who had always looked out for him, had done just that when a monster of some kind tried attacking Grover when they were walking home from school. A not so small bird...thing, a harpy, went to attack him, but Ray stopped them by jumping high and kicking them with his....goat feet? Hooves? Whatever they were, it allowed them to get to his home and Priya now understood everything Dionysus said in his note. And she had very little time to process, well EVERYTHING because then she understood what needed to happen. Or at least, after Raymond explained he was a Saytr - half goat, half man (goat bottom half) - Grover, Raymond, and with some help by Priya, went to New York and after one final run-in with a harpy but it was scared off by a...man-horse? Centaur. It was a Centaur named Chiron (Grover found this out later).

His time spent at Camp Half-Blood was interesting to say the least. Over the years, he made friends, he found out who he was and what his destiny would be. He was the son of Dionysus...Mister D. The Greek God of Wine who, apparently in a rare moment of freedom that Zeus gave him, let him leave and go wherever he wanted. He ended up choosing LA and that's where he met Priya. His mother told him many times about his father but he just assumed it was someone who wasn't able to stick around. He knew his birth father was someone named Dionysus, but knowing it was the Dionysus made Grover fix how he thought of the man.

There were days where he was angry at him for not being there and then there were days where he talked to Dionysus. Being there, he had the rare opportunity of interacting with him, but Dionysus seemed to have little interest, but the last few years before Grover would age out, Dionysus warmed up to him. They shared conversations, even made some memories together. Dionysus was bound to Camp Half-Blood and couldn't have wine, but every now and then, Grover would help him get a few sips.

Yeah that was a fun time that got Grover mess hall duties for seven season changes.

So basically the remainder of his years there.

Over the years, he met some incredible friends but one that probably was the best one was Eden Ashford. She was a year older than he was, but they had been and remain to be to this day close friends. She's a daughter of Aphrodite, so kinda went hand in hand. She was a demigoddess of love and all that shit and he was one of wine and madness.

He was a little sad that his last year at Camp Half-Blood would be spent without her, but it wouldn't be long. When he turned 18, he too made the venture to New Rome. It was vastly different than anything he could have expected. It was majestic and had so much to offer. He made some friends and might've made a few enemies too, but for the most part, Grover has enjoyed being in New Rome.

For the seven years he's been a New Roman, he's attended a few botany and business classes at NRU, found a nice-sized home with its own greenhouse and also managed to build and open a shop. A cannabis dispencery called "Grover's Glorious Ganja Goodies", a place where he puts his biggest passions of life: weed and talking to people (also white girl music). He has it playing in his store all the time. He grows his own weed that's powerful and has a nice funk to it. He also takes the oil from it and makes baked goodies in case some can't handle the stuff in its natural form.

All in all, Grover likes it at New Rome. Will he ever go back to New Orleans? Maybe. He might leave one day and bring what he has learned to his mortal family. He visits as much as he can and always takes a few weeks off to do just that, but right now, he's happy with his life.

Now if only he could get a Mrs. Grover...

Less than father and son and more occasional drinking buddies and partners-in-crime whenever a little madness needs to visit Camp Half-Blood (just don't tell Chiron).

🍇 Chiorokinesis — As the son of Dionysus, Grover is able to summon, control, grow, and manipulate vines. Though it seems to be limited to grape and strawberry vines, he's been able to extend it to all natural forms of vines. 🍇 Madness Manipulation — Being the son of dionysus, Grover is not just capable at inducing and/or curing madness, but seems to be so proficient at it that he becomes an avatar of madness when doing it for too long.🍇 Alcokinesis — The most used power of his, as it has many uses, Grover can generate alcohol at any given moment's notice (within a reasonable timescale). Wine is easier, of course, but he's learned to apply it into other forms like vodka, tequila, mead, beer, etc.

🍇 Green Thumb — Grover has a magic touch whenever it comes to crops and farming and harvesting and growing his own collection of natural herbs. Balarama gifted him with both a literal green thumb, as well as a metaphorical one. He can't make it happen automatically because the harvest doesn't work like that, but what he can do is guarantee himself the perfect harvest with crops so bountiful that it will feed him for however long he needs it to and a selection of the best weed that will guarantee the greatest and most perfect high.

Cabin 12, Dionysus

7 years = 7 beads

Multitasking and Madness— True to his nature of madness and naivity and the generousity and interests of his, Grover can take on too much than his minimal focus can handle. Now this isn't necessarily a bad thing but it can get overwhelming and a thing to understand about this eccentric son of Mister D, when he gets overwhelmed, the madness starts to consume him. He gets erratic instead of eccentric. He hypervenaltes and tends to lose sight of anything. Might even go on a bender for a few days without even realizing just how much of a bender it really is.

In short, too many tasks make Grover exe stop responding.

🍇 The Thyrsus (Or a version of it) — Unclear if it's the same one or simply one Dionysus had made that's appropriate for a Demigod, but regardless, Grover has his own Thyrsus, a staff carved from an enchanted tree. A pinecone sits upon the top of it, colored light pink and tassels of vines hang from the top.
🍇 Shaksal - Unlike the sorta-kinda divine nature of his staff, this item is divine and comes from Balarama. It is, in its sealed form, a simple handle of deep sienna, but when pressure is applied to the side, it meets the desire of Grover. In truth, it is a multi-purposed tool for harvest and farming, for growing the perfect crop. At times it can take the form of a rake, at others a plow, or a shovel, or a hoe. It also hold magical properties that ensure the perfect line drawn.

🍇 White Girl music is right up his alley. Paramore, Carly Rae Jepsen, Taylor Swift, Michelle Branch - all of them and more are on his playlist so much that whenever he hosts a party (which is often) he throws it into the mix. Sometimes that IS the mix.
🍇 Owns a cannabis shop, which is also his own greenhouse called "Grover's Glorious Ganja Goodies", a shop devoted to the best weed. He grows it himself (and to order), he bakes and makes edibles for those not willing to smoke it, and ensures the price is well worth the high.
🍇 Grover is intensely spiritual. It is not tied to any specific religion because he believes in many religious but stays away from the religious aspect. He practices hinduism, buddhaism, shintoism, Christianity and Catholicism, Paganism - whatever feels like it can give him answers to the questions he seeks. He doesn't limit himself.
🍇 Grover has ADHD, much like most (if not all) Demigods have
🍇 Speaks fluent indian (most dialects), Spanish, Italian, Greek, and some ancient latin (he can understand it though)
🍇 Has a 2-3 hour morning routine for just his looks alone. He takes great pride in it
🍇 His favorite beverage, right next to sweet Greek wine, is Dr. Pepper. OG and Cherry only.
🍇 His green thumb allows him a perfect harvest, so Grover loves to cook (though he isn't as good as the Meatmaster 6000 himself, Rex)
🍇 Laughs at his own madness sometimes (and sometimes it's because of his own madness that he laughs) and this includes while around others, so many think he's a little crazy (and maybe that's a lil true)
🍇 Doesn't like training as much as some of his fellow greeks do, but he enjoys the entertainment held at the Colleseeum (especially when it's a no shirts kind of entertainment. Cheers!)
🍇 Lives in a home, two storied at that with 3 rooms and 3 baths.
🍇 Meditates all the time. It helps relax him and he even works in yoga into it to diversify it.
🍇 Mango, the Bobcat is his pride and joy. She is 4 years old. Mostly harmless.
There is also her husband/mate, Pineapple, the Lynx. He is 5. He might bite but unless you attack Grover, he won't do it with purpose.
1.) War is a Siren
2.) The Devil is the cooliest
3.) Nyx is best. End of story.

Michael “Mike” Withers

35 || Oct 30th || Scorpio

Male

Pansexual

Caucasian (Faun)

35

New Rome

A real chill guy, maybe the most chill, with a great penchant for cooking, foraging, and getting higher than the stars, Mike is maybe the most and least faun you could meet. He has absolutely no compunctions about going on a several hours long walk through the forest, seeing it as a great opportunity to see things, talk to nature, and find a few mushrooms or herbs along the way. He has absolutely no problem listening to someone’s problems, seeing the act of just listening as therapeutic in itself, though that’s not to say that Mike isn’t the sort to not offer a few solutions if he sees them. Animals, that’s something that he absolutely loves and is more than willing to have a good, down-to-earth conversation with should they want one.

Born to Bobby Withers, a near-stereotypical faun, and Olinoie, an Alseid Nymph, Mike’s early life was characteristically not-quite-settled. He ran wild through the forests and groves about New Rome, across the Fields of Mars and into the Berkley Hills, ran wild and camped on his own and slept under the stars. Through this, like any good faun, Mike would learn the earth and plants his own way, learn which were good to eat and which weren’t, and a little fire trailed up to the sky whenever he set about to camp. The little faun spoke to the birds, too, and the deer, and the coyote, talked to them and when it suited, gave bits of his meal away. He would find mushrooms, too, cook these as well, and that lit away a lifelong passion for foraging away.

As he grew older, Mike would grow into the same rut as any self-respecting faun would. He often came home, often came to the little wild gardens that the others tended, and through that came to a grand appreciation for weed and shrooms in a far different way. They’d sit about the little far, passing a joint as the night grew long, and have conversations none of them would remember far afterwards. Mike still foraged, of course, and came to tend to his own little garden as well, tend to it and speak to it and find himself knowing it. He named his plants and talked his day away with them, every now and again believing that they might just talk a little bit back. Of course, like any self-respecting faun would, Mike found himself chasing the nymphs too, and once they turned to trees would sit at the trunk and talk away the day there too, talk about plants or animals and how their personalities were different. Some would turn back, and talk back, and a few flings came here and there.

Eventually, the faun grew the courage to go to New Rome. He went with a blanket roll of mushrooms, both edible and the more fun variety, went from restaurant to pharmacy to the farmer’s market selling them bit by bit. He spoke to the dogs and cats in the street, tamed and stray, as well as the rats who he shared bits of cheese with. Mike wanted to see more, all told, talk to more even if New Rome was strangely divorced from nature in a way that just didn’t jive with him. He spoke to legionnaires off-duty, too, who were surprised to see a faun not start a conversation asking for a few coins, shared a joint with them, talked about the world a spell.

Realizing exactly what it could be, Mike turned a one-off deal into a habit, going to the city at least every month to sell mushrooms, herbs, and weed to various locations here, there. He made as close to friends as one might with a few people, a few dogs, a few cats, and a potted plant hanging from a restaurant’s awning. Mike made friends and, every visit that passed, became a little down by all the other fauns in the city who asked for this, asked for that, were kicked down, were ignored. Sure, they never asked for work, but Mike reasoned they’d never actually been offered anything that could be framed as something other than work. The problem nagged at him for a while, for a good while.

Back in the forests though, Mike had grown to become a respectable faun. He cooked a bit, having bought a big pot from the city with the money saved, cooked and made stews and soups for whoever really asked for a bowl. That, and a willingness to listen and talk and wonder, was apparently enough to earn a reputation. People came to him with issues here or there even when Mike wasn’t cooking, and often he’d invite them for a walk, talking it over as they looked for mushrooms and thyme and mint. Every now and again, one of the New Rome kids would even come to ask a question, talk other a thing with people outside the realm of that city. He didn’t mind it, seeing the results that could come every now and again.

One visit to New Rome though, Mike found himself seeing something he hadn’t seen before: An abandoned building. The edict nailed to the door, which wasn’t quite in the best of shape, talked about failure to abide by city ordinances for fire safety, being over maximum capacity nineteen times, and health inspections that had gone wrong by rodents, and Mike knew that this was something he could really, truly use. Like any self-respecting faun, he immediately began squatting on the site, using his money to begin repairs to the building. Mike invited several strays he knew in too, using them to evict the rodents that had refused a pretty generous offer of him leaving some cheese or something outside the building for them to eat, while on one of his runs out to the forest the faun returned with his cooking pot. Inspectors came after a week of him setting about his work, finding Mike claiming to be an independent contractor cleaning the building up, and weren’t surprised that the owner had been cheap enough to hire a faun of all things. He kept on working, eventually requesting a reinspection for operation as a soup kitchen after a year of work, and impressively enough the building generally passed with Mike on the forms as the building owner. Of course, it was at that point that the previous owner returned - apparently he had been busy getting kicked out of every casino in Las Vegas for card counting - and attempted a legal battle that was swatted down within a month due to squatter’s rights.

Since then, Mike has operated The Bowl pretty reliably, giving the only requirements that any faun who comes in has to bring a bundle of ingredients for the perpetual stew that is always kept running, with the whole operation accepting donations by regular New Rome citizens under the idea that if fauns can get a meal somewhere, they might stop harassing the general public or going through the trash. The idea has met with some limited success. Other employees have generally not been fauns however, as keeping to a schedule has proven highly difficult for that general population, with most being either the most charitable demigods and legacies imaginable or several nymphs who are longtime friends with Mike.

Faunus (Pan)

Mike’s pretty distant to the God of the Wild, and the God of the Wild is pretty distant to him in the literal sense, but when he gets really, really stoned the faun can absolutely swear he can hear Faunus speaking through the flowers and weeds.

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Brother, What is an Emergency?