[hider=Michael “Mike” Withers, Son of Faunus]
[color=silver][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Gt3k5tg.png[/img]

[sub][b][color=93CB56]Tommy Chong[/color][/b] | [b][color=93CB56]#93CB56[/color][/b][/sub][/center]
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[color=93CB56][sub][b]Name:[/b][/sub][/color][indent]
Michael “Mike” Withers
[/indent][color=93CB56][sub][b]Nickname(s):[/b][/sub][/color][indent]
[list][*] Mike
[*] Mr Soup
[/list][/indent][color=93CB56][sub][b]Age:[/b][/sub][/color][indent]
35 || Oct 30th || Scorpio
[/indent][color=93CB56][sub][b]Gender:[/b][/sub][/color][indent]
Male
[/indent][color=93CB56][sub][b]Sexual Orientation:[/b][/sub][/color][indent]
Pansexual
[/indent][color=93CB56][b][sub]Ethnicity:[/sub][/b][/color][indent]
Caucasian (Faun)
[/indent][color=93CB56][b][sub]Years at Camp Jupiter // New Rome:[/sub][/b][/color][indent]
35
[/indent][color=93CB56][sub][b]Place of Birth:[/b][/sub][/color][indent]
New Rome
[/indent][color=93CB56][sub][b]Key Relationships:[/b][/sub][/color][indent][list]
[*]Significant Other: N/A
[*]Friends:[indent]
Hannibal II (Elephant)
Echo, Helikei, Minithe, Themise (Nymphs, Volunteers at The Bowl)
John Jr (Golden Retriever, Stray)
Cassius Gaius Germanicus Agrippa (Cat?, Stray)
Herodotus of San Francisco (Maine Coon, Stray)
Bob (Potted Plant at Julius’s Pizza awning)
[/indent][*]Enemies:
[*]Crushes: 
[*]Family: Bobby Withers (Father), Olinoie (Mother)
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[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/OJCKKAr.png[/img][/center]
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[color=93CB56][sub][b]Appearance:[/b][/sub][/color][indent][list]
[*][color=93CB56]Height:[/color] 5’ 2”
[*][color=93CB56]Hair:[/color] Black
[*][color=93CB56]Eyes:[/color] Green
[*][color=93CB56]Body Type:[/color][indent]
Mike is the pinnacle of a the faun bodybuilder. His belly is somewhat pot, his legs are furry, and his arms have been used to pick plants and only plants for a long, long time. As such, he has the general look of a mortal stoner. That said, Mike is tanned to perfection.
[/indent][*][color=93CB56]Clothing Style:[/color][indent]
Hawaiian or denim shirts and the most airy sweatpants imaginable, at least two sizes too big, Mike exudes the vibe of the absolute hippie. He occasionally wears a red bandana, along with a perpetual set of glasses. While cooking, the faun does don a hair net.
[/indent][*][color=93CB56]Body Markings:[/color] N/A
[/list][/indent][color=93CB56][sub][b]Personality:[/b][/sub][/color][indent]
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.
[/indent][color=93CB56][sub][b]History:[/b][/sub][/color][indent]
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.
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[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/tKMppVz.png[/img][/center]
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[color=93CB56][sub][b]Godly Parent:[/b][/sub][/color][indent]
Faunus (Pan)
[/indent][color=93CB56][sub][b]Relationship to Godly Parent:[/b][/sub][/color][indent]
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.
[/indent][color=93CB56][b][sub]Abilities Pertaining to Godly Parent:[/sub][/b][/color][indent]
[list][*][color=93CB56][i]Supernatural Detection:[/i][/color][indent]
Mike’s hearing and sense of smell is pretty darn good - on the level of a good few animals who need to rely on such to survive. He’s able to detect demigods and monsters by scent, though anything dealing with below-the-surface doesn’t work as well at all. He can also sense natural magics, though that’s generally a vague feeling and not an exact direction.
[/indent][*][color=93CB56][i]Divine Communication:[/i][/color][indent]
Mike listens to animals and talks to animals. Really it’s quite that simple to him, a natural ability he’s had since he was a little kid, though it’s hard to understate how strange one might find it to see a faun growling or barking at a dog. Mike doesn’t think of that part, because the dog has some cool things to say.
[/indent][*][color=93CB56][i]Matter Ingestion:[/i][/color][indent]
If anyone had an iron gut, it’s a faun, and if anyone is a faun, it’s Mike. He can eat recyclables, because recycling is good, and he can even eat wood, because not even furniture should be safe from a faun. Mike doesn’t eat most of those though, because generally they still have a use, and he has yet to meet a table he disliked enough to eat it.
[/indent][*][color=93CB56][i]Supernatural Speed & Climbing:[/i][/color][indent]
He has goat legs, he uses goat legs. He can run and climb like a goat, though there aren’t many good places one needs to run and climb like a goat.
[/indent][*][color=93CB56][i]Empathy:[/i][/color][indent]
Mike knows how people feel because he feels how people feel. It’s very annoying at times and can only be regarded as a strong vibe.
[/indent][*][color=93CB56][i]Wood Magic:[/i][/color][indent]
The faun plays the panpipes and, through that, can weave woodland magic into the world. Most fauns use this to make the weed grow faster. Mike uses it to remove mildew while renovating and make Bob at Julia’s happy. The type of song played generally affects the sort of magic that’s produced - for the most part, Mike plays reggae.
[/indent][*][color=93CB56][i]Supernatural Longevity:[/i][/color][indent]
Fauns age at half the normal rate of humans. Mike attributes this to strong positive waves. He has not been proven wrong.
[/indent][*][color=93CB56][i]Reincarnation:[/i][/color][indent]
When a faun dies, they turn into plants or trees. Mike has yet to do this.
[/indent][/list][/indent][color=93CB56][sub][b]Cohort:[/b][/sub][/color][indent]
N/A
[/indent][color=93CB56][sub][b]Position in the Legion:[/b][/sub][/color][indent]
N/A
[/indent][color=93CB56][b][sub]Fatal Flaw:[/sub][/b][/color][indent]Brother, What is an Emergency?[indent]
As a faun who has lived life in the easy lane, doing things that really tickle his passions and interests, to say that Mike is not used to emergencies is to state the absolute obvious. He’s not used to worrying things and is probably prone to freeze should anything severe happen.
[/indent][/indent][color=93CB56][b][sub]Weapons:[/sub][/b][/color]
[indent][list][*] Panpipes[indent]
Probably not considered a weapon in the hands of anyone other than a faun, with a panpipes in Mike’s hands he can make vines grasp legs, turn solid ground into mud, and get plants to scream heavy metal. These are highly offensive things.
[/indent][*] Mighty Joint[indent]
Joints imbued with some mighty strong leaf, with a good enough pair of lungs Mike can produce a heck of a cloud that turns most angry people into folks who have the munchies. He does this recreationally.
[/indent][/list][/indent][color=93CB56][b][sub]Misc Information:[/sub][/b][/color][indent][list]
[*] Has adopted [b]Fargo[/b], a coyote.
[*] Has adopted [b]Decius Flavinius Britannicus[/b] and [b]Quintus Sentius Britannicus[/b], formerly stray Maine Coons he swears (Potential Bobcats?).
[*] Will absolutely sit in the middle of a garden and just chat with the plants.
[*] The Legion’s Giant Eagles tolerate him.
[*] The Legion’s Unicorns do not tolerate him.
[*] Pretty good friends with Hannibal.
[*] House of the Dying Sun OST - Kill the Traitors
[*] The Magician (I), Rider–Waite
[*] Metis
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