Yes. You read that right. Greece has fallen...or at least the camp that has catered to Greek demigods for over three millennia has fallen. Camp Half-Blood had a traitor in their midst. A traitor with powerful allies who quickly burned the camp to the ground. Some were lost, some killed, and the rest who remained began the long trek across the country to the only place where they might be safe: Camp Jupiter.
Chiron banded what campers they had left, told them of the other camp and sent word to Camp Jupiter pleading for shelter. Chaos now threatens the camp daily with the arrival of new Greek campers to this foreign camp. This camp with strange customs and rules. While on the Roman end the Praetors are forced to hold up a balancing act of providing sanctuary while also trying to find the traitor before their home suffers the same fate as Camp Half-Blood.
New alliances are forged, new enemies are made, and these two worlds have to find some way to work together for the future of them all. Which side are you on? Which position will you take? It's time to jump in the fray because Greece has fallen.
ANNOUNCEMENT
Welcome to our site! We are so glad you are here my friend. Pull up a seat, set your weapons down and let's chat. We are a non-canon, percy jackson RP site based in Camp Jupiter. Both Greek and Roman demigods allowed. Legacies are limited. We have a very small word requirement for posting and we're pretty relaxed around here. We like drama but not the RL kind so keep this place nice and friendly. If you've got questions don't hesitate to ask!
GHF is the product of the mind of Addi; inspired by the percy jackson and heroes of olympus series by rick riordian. this is a work of fiction. names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. several beautiful remodels (including mini profile, profile) were designed by deltra of gangnam style and edited by Haya to fit the site's concept and needs. most images and gifs used for the skin are taken from assassins creed, the percy jackson movies and various google finds. all contents are copyright to their original owners. all characters belong to their original creators, and may not be used or replicated without permission. all images are copyright to their original owners. if you see an image/gif which is yours and you would like us to specifically credit you or remove it please do not hesitate to let us know in the cbox with a link.
Mila had been dreading today for the past week. Of course, the idea of camp Olympics and a welcome feast and the lantern tribute had sounded perfect for everyone to get together, get to know each other, and maybe start working on the obvious rift between camps. But while she had full faith in the Greeks being able to hold their own in the Olympics, she hated the idea of them being beaten by the Romans. The legion was ruthless, their soldiers even more so, and Mila strongly disliked the unnecessary violence. They were already fighting monsters, did they really need to fight against each other? The Olympics held in Camp Jupiter were unlike the combat or chariot racing the Greeks did in Camp Half-Blood; Mila thought the bloodthirstiness of the Romans had something to do with it.
And so she had refused to sign up for any of the Games, instead choosing to referee and watch the competitors. Not that Mila thought the Romans would cheat - she just felt better being someone who could support all the Greek participants. Maybe if the younger ones saw her watching over them as they raced around the track, they would feel a bit more confident and even fight back against the Romans.
Oreius twitched his tail and adjusted his legs, his wings ruffling slightly. As usual, Mila rode him with no bridle or saddle, completely confident in their combined ability to keep her seat on his back. At least there weren't any magical equine allowed in the chariot race - Mila shuddered at the thought of falling chariots and gored campers.
A chariot rolled up beside her, taking their place at the starting line, and Mila pulled herself back from her worries. Orieus shifted as though he'd sensed her sharpen her focus, mind back on the game, and turned so they were both facing the competitors as they lined up at the start of the track. The daughter of Poseidon watched them closely, eyeing their chariots and weapons, wondering what tricks these demigods would pull for their round.
The seemingly disappointed voice of the notorious Hermes camper sounded loud and and clear from the sidelines. Leaning over the railing, sunglasses gleaming and chewing on what seemed to be gum, Erik Flynn shook his head. "You just lost me a LOT of money, Gills. One Roman chick bet me 100 denarii you'd smoke the competition. Suppose there's nothing to do about it now... Do you think the Bank of New Rome takes checks?"
The scoundrel produced a pen and a checkbook seemingly out of thin air, starting to scribble in it while still bothering Mila. "And I thought YOU, out of all of us, would want to show those Romans a thing or two about excellence. You're the most significant councilor we have here, who are all the little kiddies gonna look up to if not you?"
The young man smirked as he adjusted his sunglasses and shook his head at the daughter of Poseidon. "I guess you can compete next year. IF we survive that long, or if these upstanding models of civilization don't kick us out first."
There was a loud clamoring from behind her, and Mila turned to look at who was causing the commotion. She wasn't surprised in the least to find it was someone she knew: Erik Flynn, son of Hermes, general troublemaker and now apparently a bookie. She watched him over her shoulder for a few seconds, before rolling her eyes slightly and, with a burgeoning grin, turned herself and Oreius around to go talk to the wise-cracking boy with his sunnies and gum, yelling at her about losing his money.
Humour and wit weren't Mila's strong suits. She'd always been too serious to be able to easily crack jokes and share humour, and her limited cabin size meant she didn't often have a lot of company on her downtime, anyway. Sometimes, she used to watch the Hermes cabin and all the boisterous adventures and pranks that came with that territory, and sometimes she would feel a pang that she'd never had such a huge family. And then she'd remember that the whole camp was her family, and she'd remember her next chore or responsibility, and off she went to do it. Mila had never really had time to make fun friends.
Now, though, Mila felt a bit of a closer bond to the other Greeks. They had all survived something together. They had all lost something together. Some had lost more. Everyone had different ways of dealing with their grief, while some didn't grieve at all, or at least in public. Everyone needed laughter, and she knew Erik could definitely provide plenty of that. "Should've checked with me before putting my name up on the board," she called back to him as she made her way over to the stands. The chariots for this round were still organizing themselves - glancing back, Mila noted one of the legionnaires was gesticulating furiously and pointing at a wheel - so she had a bit of time to talk with Erik before the race started.
A bout of laughter bubbled from Mila, a rare feat considering she had very few reasons to laugh these days, before she replied, "And how about you, Erik? Upstanding son of Hermes himself. Are you competing?" Another camper could have taken his words patronizingly, especially the bit about being a role model for the younger campers, but it was true enough and Mila had never hidden that aspect of herself. It had never bothered her that she was seen as a bit of do-gooder. She eyed the boy's checkbook and pen contemplatively before continuing, "Are you betting on yourself for the foot race? What odds would you give?"
Another chuckle sounded from the female demigod, shaking her head slightly at the boy's antics as a few of the legionnaires around them turned to look at who had dared use sarcasm to describe their legion. No one needed to know that the pegasus agreed wholeheartedly with Erik, and had said so out loud in no uncertain terms. Sometimes it was a blessing that there were only very few demigods who could actually understand the winged horse. "You know I'm hardly competitive enough," she told the other demigod, as a hand absentmindedly patted Oreius' neck. An uncharacteristically mischievous grin appeared on Mila's lips. "I will if you will, though."
"I could have asked, true. But where's the fun in that, Gills? 'Sides, it's just denarii. Think the drachma's worth more on the global market right now."
Pissing off a bunch of legionaries is never high on Erik's list of things to do (it's there, just not high), but making Mila laugh even a little bit was worth the increased risk. Like it or not, she was one of the leaders of the refuges, and a Big Three Cabin Leader has a lot of weight to throw. So someone like her, with all the burdens and responsibilities on her shoulders... Well, it's nice to know she can still find a reason to smile.
And if she can, why shouldn't the rest of us mighty Greeks?
Even if it means those Legionaries might beat him up later.
"Y'know, I thought I missed the sign-ups for the footrace, but that's perfectly fine. I'm still working on my, ah, stamina with the whole running-faster-than-normal thing. Plus I'm running the betting, Gills. I can't trust a Mercury kid (as much I respect them) to run it for me, and heavens forbid I let one of my kid brothers or sisters take over."
Flipping through a notebook that somehow just appeared in his hands, Erik shook his head and whistled. "Still, that Hawke girl's going to take it all for foot-racing. Super speed and game manipulation? That's a fair set of loaded dice if I've ever seen it."
Erik lowered the sunglasses a bit and winked. "I'd still give myself 4-to-7 odds. Not high, but a decent cash out if I won."
Ah, but here was something interesting! Did she just... make a bet? "Wait, are you saying you'd sign up for this year if I did? Or next year if I did? Because either way, Gills, I'd gladly sign up to see you kick some Roman 'rearius' at any game. And not being competitive enough?" Erik smirked and shook his head. "Please, I bet you agree we need to show Camp Jupiter we're not just Greek Daycare, we're capable athletes and combatants and... Well, demigods. Competitiveness pales in comparison to Half-Blood Pride, right?"
Erik blew a bubble of his gum, turning away from Mila slightly before popping and beginning to chew again.
Mila could only shake her head slightly in amusement. She'd never interacted too much with Erik while they had been at Camp Half-Blood, so she only knew the basic information about him. Aside from the usual Hermes traits, Erik also apparently liked to talk his mouth off, and while Mila had only been subject to that a number of times in their old camp, she found it rather endearing, particularly now. After all, who else would be going on about the conversion rate of drachma versus denarii? Only a child of the god of commerce, for sure, and amongst those, apparently Erik only trusted himself with the bookie job. Mila found herself entertained by his antics.
"Run into any walls yet?" she asked lightly, the mental image of Erik slamming into a wall a la Roadrunner style making her eyes flash with mirth. It was probably mean of her to even think it, but considering the jovial personality of the son of Hermes, Mila thought he'd probably just brush himself off before continuing on his day. Mila for sure had had trouble with her own powers when she'd been younger, and even now was comfortable with using only as much as she dared to use. Struggling against something as supernatural as god powers was difficult and not something that should be laughed at, but Mila was in a light mood and Erik surely wouldn't have minded?
The daughter of Poseidon knew of Hawke, of course. Mila had made a point to get to know most if not all of the Centurions and Praetors, considering her own leadership position amongst the Greeks. She wasn't the best at diplomacy and had always been fairly introverted, so she hadn't actually spoken to Hawke. Still, from what she'd heard of the daughter of Victoria, she was not only fast on her feet but also very competitive. Mila could appreciate Erik's bet being on the Roman girl. She only smiled as he winked at her, not completely understanding how odds worked - never been a gambling girl - but entertained by his confidence. "I'd have bet on you," she told him, grinning as she did. "Of course, if I'd lost, I'd have made you pay me back."
It was a strange feeling, for sure, to be laughing and joking with someone at the side of a race track in the middle of the Roman legion, more so because Mila didn't usually do that anywhere anyway. Still, her smile was easy as she told Erik, "I guess you'll find out next year." Oreius snorted at the mention of Half-Blood Pride, apparently getting behind the idea and telling Mila as much, but the blonde demigod only laughed at both her equine and Erik. Maybe it was a male thing, this camp pride, although that couldn't be right considering the number of female Roman legionnaires who had signed up for the combat games. "I think you're selling my skills too well, Erik. Is this going to be your trick to get a good cash out for next year's games?"
"Nah, I got the wonderful ability to perceive where I go when I go fast. Downside is that if I go fast for too long, I pass out for several days. Not healthy in the long run, Gills. Not healthy at all."
Erik did laugh a bit at the idea though; he'd seen some of his siblings run head first into a wall and need a day or two in the medical tent. Man was Erik glad good old Dad gave him a slightly different power set. Then again, did Dad give it to his kids? Oooor was it random chance upon birth, like a game of roulette or dice?
The second thought sounded more appealing, not gonna lie.
"Ha! You assume I'd have the capital to make sure you don't lose your wagering money. Which I do, you guessed correctly. Flynn Family policy to make sure first time betters get their money back; makes them want to come back for mo- I mean, enjoy the experience!" Erik followed up his very witty change of words with a small laugh, in between chewing.
Lowering his voice a bit, Erik's grin was nearly falling off his face, and his voice lowered considerably. "Well I suppose I'll make sure to fleece the Romans a good bit less so we can stick around for next years games. And trust me, a good chariot race with you at the helm? We'd win, fair and square. We wouldn't even need any of the special tricks we had installed in the RoadMaster 2000!"
Erik shuffled in a bag hanging off his shoulder and produced a small pouch, making sounds of metal hitting metal. Perhaps coins? "Actually... How about a wager now, Ref Gills? Pick a chariot, I'll pick another, winner gets this bag of denarii/drachma and bragging rights. No interference, obviously. What do you say?"
"After all, would be a very impressive claim to say you beat a Son of Hermes in a fair gamble."
Mila grinned at Erik's retelling of his adventures. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to run that fast. She wasn't a particularly good runner herself, but to be able to run as fast as Erik or any of the other Hermes kids, to have wings at your ankles and to still be able to see obstacles and judge distance and know where to go at that speed - it sounded crazy. It wasn't that she would give up her own heritage or her own powers, but it was definitely interesting to think that there were some kids who could do that. Then again, Mila supposed some people wouldn't be able to comprehend that she had daily conversations and inside jokes with a winged horse.
The smile on her face twisted a little into a smirk, heading about the 'Flynn Family policy'. "Oh, I'm very sure your business is very reputable, Mr Flynn," she teased, the emphasis on her words only slightly sarcastic. There was a light in her eyes as a laugh played around her mouth, glad for the easy exchange of humour. "I'll believe your advertising - you've sold me. I'll remember to place my first bet with you."
The idea of competing in the chariot race on behalf of the Greeks did sound quite interesting, although the whole competitiveness of the Games wasn't particularly comfortable for Mila. Besides, there were always better chariot drivers amongst the Athena cabins. The Ares kids were ruthless, the Hephaestus kids were extremely talented with their traps and tech, and the Hecate kids were always full of surprises. Winning a chariot race didn't rely purely on actually guiding the horses, especially amongst demigods - the ability to multitask driving the chariot, defending from attacks while also simultaneously trying to get the others out of the race was pretty intense. Mila had participated in her fair share, of course, when she had been younger, but she'd never quite gotten the thrill of it.
Waggling a finger at Erik, Mila only laughed and replied, "Uh-uh, Erik. Don't sell me up too much, now. I'm not sure I can live up to the expectation." The blonde demigod only shook her head at the promise of surprises from a chariot named the RoadMaster 2000. She wasn't sure if Erik was just pulling that name and concept from somewhere, but she wouldn't be surprised in the least if the Hermes cabin had conjured something with that name. It would be a thing to behold in a chariot race if it was real.
The mention of placing a bet had Mila turning her head to gaze over the assembled chariots again. It looked like they were about to get ready for the race, and the daughter of Poseidon gently bit on her lower lip. She really shouldn't bet on a race when she was a ref, right? "Uhh, not sure if I'm technically allowed to do that, Erik..." Hesitantly, she glanced again over her shoulder, torn between wanting to have fun and being a good role model. Technically, underaged campers shouldn't be betting at all. How old was Erik again? Shaking her head again, this time at herself, Mila decided to throw caution to the winds and take a step into morally ambiguous territory. "Alright, but only if you keep it to yourself, d'you hear me, Flynn?"
Sighing at what could be a momentously stupid idea, Mila studied the competitors. Oreius was telling her about the steeds, which ones were extremely nervous and which ones were collected enough despite the growing din of the gathered demigods. Deciding to be sneaky about it, Mila looked at Erik as she tidied her blonde hair over her shoulder, three fingers of her hand up to show her choice. It was a Roman chariot - blasphemy on the Greeks, she knew - decorated with cloth in shades of blue, its driver holding on tightly to a longsword that shone green in the sunlight. That would be a nasty blade, and Mila knew that despite the simple trappings, the chariot and its driver held more surprises.
"Ah, Gills, this is going to be fun. Let me tell you, I think you and I will be betting again soon, that's how much fun I think you'll have."
Watching the crowd, the horses, the drivers, the aides, the entire big picture... That was the easy part. Sure, Erik didn't have the aid of a talking horse to figure out who was nervous and who was calm, but perhaps he didn't need to. After all, finding the perfect mark is just the flipped side of the coin from finding the hardest target. So Erik scanned, looking for anything that might tip him off.
And that's when he noticed Mila subtly moved her bright blondie hair with three fingers up. No, she was going with the Green Sword Romans? That was Erik's first last choice! But she had a good eye; that sword looked like trouble. Not only that, but considering how close she was with her own steed, and the heritage she claimed, it would make sense she could listen to the horse too...
Fortunately, Erik Flynn wasn't about to flounder out because of a scary looking piece of divine metal, or the opinions of a horse.
Instead, the young man adjusted his glasses, lifted them up for a moment, and scratched his eye... All with just one finger. Should be obvious enough, but sometimes things get lost in translation. The cart chosen by the son of Hermes was... Well...
How do I say this nicely?
It was... really unique.
This cart, decorated in the traditional colors of the Hephaestus cabin of the Greeks, looked like it had been used to trek across the country by pioneers. It was rusty, old, the wheels looked less like wheels and more like squares, and even looking at it caused it to creak with age. The driver, however, had an air of confidence around him, and the horse at the fore was also rather calm on the outside; Orieus might have mentioned to Mila this horse was incredulous that the chariot would even move, let alone compete.
All in all, to the common eye, this chariot seemed destined for failure. But Erik Flynn was a professional gambler, right? Was this a mind game? Or was he rigging his choice so Mila would win?
Suppose time will tell, as the race's beginning drew nearer and nearer... .
She was still looking at Erik - her lips doing their best not to grin too wide and give Erik the idea that she was possibly thrilled at playing this game - and so she caught his very subtle one-finger gesture. No, not the rude one; the demigod was just scratching his eye. Mila's jaw actually tilted forwards as she replayed the gesture in her mind, wondering if he was meaning to tell her what he was meaning to tell her. "Was that...?" she asked out loud, unsure, before laughing again and saying, "Okay, okay. I get your hint, Mr Spymaster."
So Erik had chosen chariot number one, and Mila was familiar with this build - Greek, from Hephaestus cabin, and with a familiar face readying to drive the steeds. It wasn't exactly the flashiest, but Mila felt a burst of admiration for Erik. He'd chosen Greek, and she didn't know if that was because of loyalty or because he truly believed they could win, but she was very proud of him that he did. Much better than her, right? Turncoat at the first instance. Mila could have scolded herself for that one.
"Alright, you're on," she told him, grinning brightly and giving him a thumbs up, just as one of the Romans gestured her over and Oreius followed the directive. Placing both her hands back on his neck, Mila leaned forwards to steady herself against Oreius' gait, calling over her shoulder, "See you later, Flynn!"
As she came closer to the competitors, Mila was glad that the Hephaestus chariot was actually looking a little sturdier than it had looked from afar. The horses' ears flicked towards her and Oreius, their heads turning to acknowledge her briefly, and Mila felt another surge of pride and loyalty towards her own campers, her own family. There was an edge of vindictiveness as she sincerely hoped Erik would win, if only it would mean the Greeks could edge out a victory. A Greek didn't have to win the Games, of course, but any kind of victory in any round would feel good. A savage grin graced her lips, blonde hair flipping over her shoulder as she locked her body ready for Oreius to gallop and take to the skies at the sound of the signal.
And not a moment too soon - a second later, she had to fight against the force that threatened to push her off Oreius' back as the pegasus started, his strong legs keeping up easily with the racing chariots. Instantly, the chariot she'd selected to win pulled ahead of the others, and Mila kept her eyes on it specifically as Oreius pumped his wings and took to the air. From her vantage point, she could see 1 in the middle of the pack, and Mila worried for the driver that she couldn't see but was undoubtedly fighting to not lose his place.
Ave, demigod! Over the next month, all new threads created may be attacked by the Fates at any time, unless specified in the subheader. All random events will be based on prompts from the randomizer. Please refer to the event guide #2 for further and more detailed information about your character's possible fate.
GHF is the product of the mind of addi; inspired by the percy jackson and heroes of olympus series by rick riordian.
this is a work of fiction. names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
several beautiful remodels (including mini profile, profile) were designed by deltra of gangnam style and edited by haya to fit the site's concept and needs.
most images and gifs used for the skin are taken from assassins creed, the percy jackson movies and various google finds.
all contents are copyright to their original owners. all characters belong to their original creators, and may not be used or replicated without permission. all images are copyright to their original owners.
if you see an image/gif which is yours and you would like us to specifically credit you or remove it please do not hesitate to let us know in the cbox with a link.
