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.
The notion of continuing a conversation about their fellow legionnaires held no appeal for Morgan, quite the opposite in fact. She did not care. The other legionnaires had their place but she would forever put herself and her own above it, for they surely represented the best the Legion had to offer. Powerful, determined and ferocious. She would always stride through life with pride and grace, her chin held high marching ever onwards. Sam did not matter to her, not really, even if they did not get along and Jax only mattered because she happened to find him attractive. Fun but attractive. She liked to surround herself with people who she found attractive or fun, especially those that offered her attention and even affection.
She brushed her fingers down the length of her forearm, studying him carefully, as she considered her words. Mulling them over, twisting them and trying to decide upon what she really wanted from him. Was it attention? Banter? A fight?
“Hm, that’s the question isn’t it,” her voice softened, filling with rich warmth as she studied her fellow Legionnaire carefully with a rich yet piercing gaze “All I know is I am bored and you now owe me Jax, after all you know the trouble that comes with lying to the praetors especially about a legionnaire messing around in the mortal world,” not that she would really throw him to the wolves. Ever. She let her gaze wander over the forest around them, the looming shadows of trees which leaned in over them like a veil. Her hand resting upon the hilt of her whip watching him carefully, a subtle smirk taking hold of her features.
”Maybe you should just figure it out, I’m open to a lot of things cause this patrol is really dull,”
The scent of well-cooked meat and sweet seasonings filled Morgan’s nostrils as the breeze, stemming from Sam’s mischief, threw her carefully managed hair out of balance leaving the fiery mane a frizzy mess. Much to Morgan’s displeasure. She spun on her heel like a graceful wild cat, hunting for the source of her misfortune and her eyes settled upon Sam, steely and calculating. The wave, the mischievous smile. It was all that Morgan needed to see to know who’d been brave enough to mess with her and despite the coldness of her gaze a small smile turned her lips up. She tucked one thumb in through the belt loop of her jeans. Her boots creaked softly as she shifted her weight back onto her left hip, she could feel the eyes on her as demigods shuffled around the mess hall with her food making small talk. Sometimes she just wanted to return to the lake and plunge into the icy depths, let it wash her problems away for even just a little while and invigorate her.
“I was, now I am waiting for a reason not to slap you for that little gust,” Morgan replied calmly “Fortunately for you I am hungry, hungrier than I am displeased but ruin my hair again…”
She accepted the meal offered to her without even turning to look, taking the offered plate easily as she studied him carefully “Let me guess, patrol again? One might assume that like me you are avoiding something so go on Sam, why are you pestering me like a Faun in heat? Spill.” her voice held an unusual warmth, it replaced the curt and cool precision. She offered him the plate as she saw another being prepared out of the corner of her eyes, assuming that he would be absolutely ravenous given how she always felt coming off a long patrol. Waiting for dessert was tempting but it would have to wait after all the fools preparing it would not dare cross her, right? Right.
Morgan looked back over her shoulder towards the source of the sound, of the disturbance in the waters lapping against her ankles. One of the Second Cohort, one of their centurions, which meant that he was not only worthy of her time but as a centurion he could easily have been a member of the First. She turned and brushed the mane of fire from her face meeting his questions with a dark, level gaze. Part of her wanted to challenge him on his presence at the lake or his authority over her, after all she was a legionnaire of some renown and potent gifts serving in the First cohort under her own Centurions, warriors of far greater repute than either of them. Of course, he did have the authority to challenge her and she did not have the authority to argue with him in reality but it rarely stopped her in the past.
“I saw everything,” Morgan replied in a monotone voice, watching him “And yes, many of my fellow Legionnaires are still at rest, I am not them. I take patrols nearly every night and I come here before the day to draw upon my father’s might, even on the days when I am not on patrol I come here to be in touch with him. You will, I am sure, find that the centurions of the First are aware, I would not be surprised if the Praetors are aware as well,” and she smiled coldly. She noticed the plant in his hand and reached out through her skin to the water, feeling it against her ankles and drawing strength from it and reaching out to pull the cold from the water clinging to his skin. She could not heat it up, not really, but drawing away the chill would serve a similar purpose “Either way I do not miss drills, nor marching and I certainly do not look like I just fell asleep at my post,” her cold smile growing, sharpening like the well honed edge of her blade. A weapon she rarely drew but one she knew better than any other “I do hope your little… flower quest was at least worth it.”
And as the crowds parted Morgan watched the praetor warily, unsteady on her feet with sweat trickling down her spine. Every time she pushed herself she got a little bit better at controlling her power, she could draw upon the water for longer and one day she hoped that she could unleash the truly devastating power lurking just below the surface. All in good time. The applause was short lived in reality as he levelled a criticism that might have been fair any other day when she pushed herself recklessly, not today though. She had a plan and the moment she could push her gifts again she would because like muscles her gifts would grow, strengthen and she could build up her tolerance. She smiled wearily as she spoke “And yet like a muscle if I push my limits I grow stronger, just a year ago I could barely pull the water from the air and now I can freeze it within your lungs,” but she paused trying to hide the exhaustion as she levelled her withering gaze upon the throng of demigods around them “It seems like my audience misunderstood the purpose of my… show of force. After all, I am supposed to be training and that’s what I was doing,”
She could feel the numbness in her fingers, ever present whenever she used her gifts just like she could feel the heat on her skin from the scant rays of sunlight. The stronger she got the more she felt the effects of her powers, the affinity for the cold, the sensitivity to light, to heat and all of it impacted her more and more day by day. She would shoulder the burdens that came with her gifts if it made her stronger, let her shoulder more for the Legion and protect her brothers and sisters in arms. Even when the sun burned her skin and made her wince, barely able to see, she would shoulder that burden with pride. One day she might get to meet her father in person if she proved her worth, one day.
She took a shaky breath forcing a smile “I assure you I know my limits and I know how hard to push. Unfortunately I have to push to get stronger and the stronger my gifts the more I can support the Legion, no?”
Despite her competitive and nigh combative nature Morgan found day to day life in Camp Jupiter rather dull, the endless measuring contests between the campers and the wargames which rarely ended any differently. Each one a measure of a cohort's skill and tactical acumen, few could match the First but the First. Thus in her boredom she often flirted with the male campers of some repute, mostly the First and Second cohort. She enjoyed their attention in her own way and she enjoyed the reprieve from the pressures of the Camp, particularly the pressures she put on herself as a Daughter of the Sea. She levelled a withering, piercing gaze Jax’s way as he brushed the strand of hair away but she didn’t push him off or remove his hand. No, instead she placed her palm flat against his chest with a smirk “So, instead of coming to the merciful one you thought you would try your luck with Sam, Sam who has never been a good soul. Or gentle,” and she tapped her index finger against his shirt. Piercing eyes travelling over his face slowly, assessing him as if weighing his worth “I’m almost offended Jax. Almost,” and then she brought her hand up, drawing his hand down carefully.
“How about we start with a little faith next time, then we’ll call it even. You should be coming to me and not that idiot cause I’ve got your back even when we’re not having fun,” and she wrapped her knuckles up in his shirt, the withering gaze turning to a knowing smile “At least if you don’t lie to me, next time you lie to me I’ll make sure you wish the Centurions caught you. You won’t even see it coming but if you’re honest with me, well,” and she stepped into his space with a small smile “You know if you amuse me for a while I might even share my stash of food with you, after all if the mortals detained you for as long as you claim then… well, I’ve heard prison food is pretty crap and alcohol doesn’t exactly count,” and she tilted her head staring him dead in the eye “So, the question is what are you gonna do to make this worth it for me right here and now, after all I’m breaking even more rules right now,”
Moving like a wild cat Morgan stalked around the edge of the square, watching her opponent who nervously turned with her shield held tight to his body. Exactly where she wanted it. She stopped and began to circle him in the other direction. Suddenly, Morgan lunged. The ferocious blow forcing the other Demigod to one knee but she danced back bringing her blade into a low guard once more, the moment her opponent found his feet her whip lashed out slicing into his cheek before snapping back and slashing into his thigh, blood spraying out over the sand. Despite the pain, however, he reached Morgan and slammed his shield into her side, pirouetting Morgan swept under his blow kicking his legs out from under him in one fluid movement.
She kicked his shield away and tapped the tip of her blade against his chest, smiling sweetly as he held his arms out yielding.
Morgan stepped back, helping her fellow Legionnaire to his feet and helping him out of the sparring arena towards the medics before joining some of her Cohort on the benches, cleaning her whip and blade with a cloth. She almost felt bad for how handily she’d thrashed him and she knew the pain of a whip, the way it ripped the flesh even when using a thicker training tool rather than her actual whip. It was painful and he would be feeling that sharp, biting agony for days to come. She set her training weapons down within the case, next to her live blade and barbed whip, accepting the offered flask of water from one of the water bearers for the day. The cool water brought relief for despite how short the match was it still took a lot of energy, her muscles were still burning from the previous matches as well. She watched as two more Legionnaires entered the arena, a First and a Third, squaring off. She watched them as they probed, striking at one another to test each other until finally blows started landing.
Morgan flinched when one such blow caught the Third across the shoulder blades then the forehead, watching as he fell in a heap like a sack of potatoes.
And with a sigh Morgan listened to him even as he tried to lie to her, watching him in the gloom. The bare faced lying quickly faded, after all she knew he was not on patrol let alone hunting monsters, giving way to the trademark naivety of Demigods. Many of them lived sheltered lives with little to no exposure to the mortal world during their time with the Legion , some were even born basically separated from the real world. Morgan couldn’t help smiling as he admitted his transgression and the failure which he’d coupled with it, shaking her head briefly even as he tried to distract her. [break] Tucking her thumbs in behind her belt, legs planted firmly, she studied him still ”Glad you finally stopped trying to feed me bare faced lies Jax, I could smell the manure spilling out of your lips even before you told me the truth,” and she adjusted her weight, letting it fall back on her left hip. The fact that he had failed to keep his personal effects, and anything he’d acquired, was disappointing but not entirely unsprursing ”Well you already owed me before you decided to sneak past the barrier and well, you know full well that I am doing my patrols, so shall we add this debt to the list hm? Am I ever going to see a return on my mercy?” and she reached out brushing her fingers over his forearm. He was flirting, or being flirty as ever, and so she would return the favour to try and throw him off balance. They had their… balance point which usually involved flirting. [break][break] ”Seriously though, you just had to return during my patrol in my sector didn’t you?”
And even as Jax emerged from the shadows the whip came free with a loud crack, filling the night air as the leather tore the air. She let the weapon fall idle though as his voice cut through the gloom and one slender eyebrow arched in amusement, Morgan’s rich eyes following him to the water. The notion of having a favourite son of Mars, one of the barbaric war Gods, amused her but Jax was a handsome man and a fellow member of the First so he was not entirely wrong. She did rather like her fellow Legionnaire even if he was, at best, an acquired taste with some particular habits that drew the ire of many demigods. She let her hand peel free from the hilt of her sword and gathered her whip deftly, smiling“My favourite son of Mars? You mean the only son of that barbarian that I might tolerate,” but her tone was filled with mirth betraying the lack of seriousness in her tone. Her voice was playful and even light.
She took a step towards him as she fastened the whip at her thigh and twisted her hand in the air, reaching out to the flowing waters of the stream causing the water to cool rapidly even as he plunged his hands into it “But you’ve been a naughty boy Jaxy, you’ve been outside the boundary,” and she stepped across the stream behind him as she let the water return to its natural state in earnest just as icicles were beginning to form from the rapid cooling “My oh my what would the centurions think of this,” and she crouched on the other side of the stream looking him in the eye “You know I bet other interested parties would hear if it just happened to slip through my lips that you’ve passed through, there’d be quite a stir. So why by the Gods should I keep my mouth shut and risk being a party to your punishment for these games, hm?” yet she could barely hide the mirth in her tone or the light in her eyes as the torch flickered nearby. She ran her fingers through the waters, scooping it up and watching as it twirled around her fingers in three separate streamers “Did you bring me back any of their… chocolate? The good stuff I mean… or whiskey?”
Focusing Morgan pulled the water from the bucket, a raging sphere shedding mass almost as quickly as the very moisture from the air cooled and joined it. The sphere grew as Morgan stood with her hands spread about a foot apart, fingers claw-like in the air and sweat dripping down her brow. She opened her eyes with the rage of the oceans burning within the warm brown as she reached one hand out towards another bucket of water as the demigods crowded around her, she turned her pal up to the sky and pulled upon the water within as her muscles trembled. She pulled upon her father’s might even as her knees began to give out beneath the strain, drawing the other sphere in close and forcing the two together. The salt within the second sphere brought her strength as the oceans would always bring her strength, even just a drop could rejuvenate her and so as the spheres merged she stood up straighter. Prouder.
This display of power was simply for one reason; to display the might of the First Cohort. She took every opportunity to prove her worth and weight, Displaying her prowess and her own power to prove to those first wandering the path of the Legionnaire. To show them what they might be, one day. She took a step forwards and drew the water out into a flat, blade-like disk and twisting her neck, jaw toward the sky, she pushed her power out with a snarl spittle flying from her mouth and the water froze. Spinning like a blade, a blade of pure and clear ice. She turned the disk with her hands and then it split into four equal segments but before she could throw it outwards the water melted and crashed into the ground with a whoosh.
Faltering Morgan took one step forwards then she stumbled, falling to one knee with her breath heaving.
She let her hand hit the floor holding her up even as the demigods around her cheered, some taking to displaying their own gifts and others crowding around them as they did. Morgan closed her eyes and pulled upon the moisture in the ground, watching the salt water trickle through the grass towards her and feeling it wrap around her arm restoring even just a little of her strength. Enough to stand. She would need to push harder and harder until none of her half-brothers and half-sisters could match her, then beyond, to achieve what she truly desired but this display of might and discipline was a step she proudly took especially to do it in front of such a crowd upon her first attempt.
[attr="class","THREAD1BLTAG"]445 WORDS @hayana's third of many
The cold water lapped against Morgan’s hand as she crouched at the lake side in the morning light, the brush of pink caressing the clouds above as the dawn banished shadows from the night. Bare skin responding to the cool breeze with pimples as she closed her eyes and considered the day before her. In just an hour the marching drills would begin in earnest, a day of labour which would be split in twain by the need for patrols as Morgan and her kin looked to protect their own. Every morning, at least when she was not assigned to guard duty, Morgan made her way to the water’s edge in her bathing suit and dived into the icy depths. She revelled in the touch of her father’s domain even if it lacked the true rage and passion of the oceans but the darkness, the cold. It spoke to her in ways that she could not describe, perhaps it was the only time she could honestly hear the voice of her father.
She rose to her feet feeling the fabric move with her, stretching with her arms above her head and then she climbed the tree leaning out over the water. She stood at the apex of its trunk, not quite parallel with the water, breathing deeply and then she sprang into action tumbling through the air and into the water below. Her body cut through the glass-like surface as she plunged into the darkness. Where others might feel the shock of the cold Morgan felt alive for the first time since she last touched water. She slipped through the water gracefully as a siren and the water filled her lungs, filling her with the raw might of her father even as she touched the bottom where she came to rest for a moment. Standing, arms spread. Seh called upon the power rushing through her veins and felt the water respond, twisting and surging despite the depth and the pressure until nearly twenty minutes later she broke the surface of the water. Rising upon a pillar of rushing, icy water until she broke the lake’s surface and landed deftly upon the shores, willing the water from her skin despite how wrong it felt.
She plucked her towel from the shore, next to which her blades rested, and she pushed her hair back out of her face. Smiling, as radiant as the sun and fierce as the raging oceans.
[attr="class","THREAD1BLTAG"]408 WORDS @hayana's second of many
Plucking at the meat upon the bronze plate resting in front of her, Morgan frowned, wrapped up in her own thoughts as her fingers twisted the chicken free of the bone and held it just in front of her mouth, hovering there pointlessly. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she quite literally forgot to eat it, she could feel the wind brushing through her fiery hair and hear the thrum of people around her but she just could not focus on it all. Her mind just kept wandering to the rushing waves, the sound of the Oceans smashing into the shore with all of their might and the call of her father towards the deeps. A call she so badly wanted to answer, to hear his voice in earnest and yet she had an oath to keep; to the Legion. An oath to stand for New Rome and to protect the children of the Gods with her blood if necessary, to fight shoulder to shoulder with them to the death or till she aged out. A decade of service.
Snapping back to reality when someone wrapped their arms around her, Morgan looked over her shoulder, smiling brightly. She popped the chicken into her mouth and playfully shoved the boy away by his forehead laughing as he groaned and then ripped into her meal with her free hand still resting upon the hilt of her blade at her wait, she had the attention of many demigods within the camp particularly given that they were confined together for large parts of the year, the dating pool was not small but it was certainly stagnant like a small rural town. Many of the First Cohort, particularly those who had now served their time, had dated her and she enjoyed the attention that came with not only her station as a member of the First but her appearance too. Particularly the mane of intense fiery hair, something about it just drew attention and she used it to her advantage more often than not because it felt good to be wanted. Really good. Even as she tore another chunk of chicken off the bone and popped it into her mouth she began running through the things she wanted to do in her mind, always at the top of the list; ascend to her father’s side.
She joined in with the conversation only briefly and then when her plate was devoid of food she stood up, her soft thigh-high boots that she favoured whenever she got to dress the way she wanted to be dressed. Tight jeans and a simple blouse, loose and easily contained within leather should it be required. Her blade hung easily from her belt along with her dagger against the outside of her thigh though she felt that she needn’t carry them in many ways for her father’s gifts made her … potent. She kept most of her skin covered to avoid the direct sunlight even in the shadow of sunset even as she picked her way through the knots of demigods gathering, laughing, eating and chatting. She dropped off her plate once cleaned and picked her way back out of the mess hall to stand with her boot against the wall, leaning and letting the evening breeze wash over her. Watching the people around her.
[attr="class","THREAD1BLTAG"]558 WORDS @hayana's first of many
Morgan Llewellyn Daughter of Neptune - Legionnaire - First Cohort
Loyalty and tenacity have come to define Morgan, a stalwart bulwark against all who would defy the Legion or New Rome and a weapon to be wielding. The duality of her upbringing rarely shines through past the steel of the legionnaire but it is there, doubts bubbling away beneath the surface which stem from her relationship with her mother. She never questions orders but she does question her place in the grand scheme of things, wondering if choosing the path of the half-divine and spurning the life of a mortal was the right path. Those doubts, however, never stand between Morgan and her duty to New Rome.
She is ambitious, loyal and often finds herself being the centre of attention despite her best efforts. She does her best to use that, however, to better the Legion and particularly the First Cohort, a true soldier. All she really wants is to live up to the legacy of divine blood in her family, to be the soldier and hero of New Rome like those who walked the path before her and for Neptune, her father, to accept her in earnest.
Platonic; Despite her mother’s best efforts in many ways Morgan views friendships as weak points, things that the enemy can exploit to get to her yet she still lets people into her inner circle more often than she would like to admit. Those who wish to be her friend have to be loyal to the Legion, intelligent, strong and reliable. To be her friend, truly, she has to believe that you will stand shoulder to shoulder with her in the formation without ever letting her down so many friends have come and gone having let her down when it really mattered.
Romantic; Romance and pleasure play an easy role in the life of a soldier, at least Morgan believes that, and while friends might be considered a weakness, love can offer a warrior the strength to return home, to stand firm in the face of even the greatest darkness. Unfortunately, Morgan is emotionally immature often mistaking sexual attraction for love and friendship for attraction meaning that she might maintain a physical, and emotional, relationship with one or more young Demigods who challenge her both physically and mentally. Good, loyal (and hot) legionnaires.
Familial; At this point it is unknown how many of her rather large family are Demigods and how many of them she really knows, after all when she left her mother she stopped talking about them but she does maintain regular contact at least with her mother via letters and other more creative means.
Rivalries; Rivalries are a natural part of being a warrior, others who might challenge Morgan in the martial arts or tactical acumen. Rivalries are healthy for Morgan as they challenge her to be a better warrior, to better herself and become the leader she wants to be so please, even if antagonistic rivalries are the name of the game, well... bring it on!
Antagonistic; Only true enemies of New Rome will ever be Morgan’s enemies but well, she is an opinionated woman so it is easy to dislike her and often dislikes the people who are not within her inner circle. Those without honour, those who are weak… those who hate without reason, all are Morgan’s enemies and she will strive to bring them down for the betterment of the world. For the Legion.
Rolling her neck with an audible crack Morgan stretched in the pre-dawn gloom, watching as he peers shuffled around in the shadows preparing for yet another round of patrols along the boundary line and likely the final round for the night, Morgan could feel the weight of her sword against the small of her back where it rested within the padded sheath and her fingers brushed over the coiled whip resting against her hip, anxious to be away from the heat of the small watch fire and back into the night. Every other day she woke up a little before midnight ready to take a watch which would end just after marching drills when she would rejoin her Cohort and on her off days she took part in the same activities as her peers, though she often got to miss out on the menial labour. She watched as the other Legionnaires, and a centurion, shared the findings of their patrols before once more setting off into the dark. She rose from her crouch and nodded to the patrol leader before moving off into the gloom, her eyes adjusting quickly to the night away from the flames.
She picked her way through the undergrowth, soft thigh-high leather boots whispering against the earth with every step as she pushed aside yet another branch in her way. She could hear the birds beginning to stir and just beneath the songs trilling through the dawn she could hear the cracking of branches beneath the boots of her fellow Legionnaires. Nostrils flaring she hopped over yet another fallen tree and she heard the soft clattering of her sword within the scabbard yet she pushed on eyes constantly searching through the gloom, every step carrying her towards the next meet-up with one of the other guards on watch.
Morgan paused as she crossed a small stream, crouching to brush her hands through the water and savouring the icy bite closing her eyes. Listening. She could feel the clouds of her breath coiling through the air, the power surging through her skin as the icy water lapped against her hand and hear the footsteps approaching her growing hastier, shorter and faster. Reckless even. She brushed away the waves of red hair cascading down past her face and rose to her full height, nearly bang on six feet plus the extra height from her heels, and waited in the darkness. Waiting for whichever one of her peers, or whatever it was, to show itself with one hand resting upon the hilt of her blade, the other curling around the grip of the whip. Perhaps she was being paranoid or overly cautious but it didn’t matter, if they were not a threat fine and if they were better to be ready than to die.
Quiet and proud Morgan always rises to the challenges placed before her, determined to rise through the ranks until she can meet her father and stand at his side. Morgan is often seen surrounded by her fellow demigods which, of course, makes her seem like a popular woman but in reality many of them wish to see her fall or fail. Morgan takes this with a serene grace, like the ocean before a ferocious storm. More often than not Morgan is calm, quiet and gentle with those around her though she views mercy and gentleness without a benefit to the Legion as a weakness, something she simply cannot tolerate for if she shows weakness her father will never truly accept her. [break][break] Those within Morgan’s inner circle, her true friends, know that she is riddled with doubts around her lineage and they know that she is selfless, loyal and ultimately quite kind despite her protests. Those within her inner circle get a rare glimpse of the child beneath the serene, unrelenting soldier who stands for the Legion at all costs. [break][break] Though much like one should never underestimate the fury of the ocean and its patron, one should not underestimate Morgan. When roused to fury she is an unrelenting storm of destructive might.
[attr="class","hopelovetitle"]BIOGRAPHY
[attr="class","hopelovetop"]
Growing up Morgan was a bright and curious child, always exploring and wanting to know more while being drawn to the water, always. Whenever her mother wished to find Morgan she would always look to the water first, even at a very young age, and more often than not that is where she would find her daughter. She tried to raise Morgan to be a strong, resourceful and independent woman but raising a baby girl all alone takes a toll on even the strongest of parents. Her mother could never have known how blessed she was for she was raising a daughter of the sea, one of Poseidon’s children. Little did she know that her own uncle, Morgan’s great uncle, was a child of Death itself and thus Morgan’s fate would one day be sealed. Her great-uncle spent his twilight years with Morgan and her mother, teaching Morgan to fish, to swim, taking her climbing as she grew older and even showing her how to hunt. He taught her to survive before she was even ten and she enjoyed her lessons with him, of course he knew what she was and who she was so on his deathbed he told Morgan. [break][break] Three weeks before her twelfth birthday Morgan learned that not only was her father still alive, something her mother believed to be untrue, but that her father was Neptune, master of the oceans. A God in earnest. [break][break] The knowledge and the death of her only male role model wounded Morgan deeply, so deeply that for many months she would not even speak to her mother or anyone but her mother continued to educate her at home as she had promised she would. After months of counselling and silence Morgan finally spoke up and demanded that they move to the United States, claiming that she did not want to live in the shadow of her Great-Uncle’s memory because it hurt too much. Of course, with the help of family her mother agreed and so they moved to California. What Morgan did not tell her mother was that Nathan, her great-uncle, had given her very clear and specific instructions. Instructions that would hurt her mother but Morgan hoped that she would understand, so for two years she continued her education under her mother’s watchful eye and then on the last day of August she ran away. She left a simple note for her mother explaining that she would return one day, she hoped soon, and made her way to face the tests which would decide her fate and her place in the Legion. [break][break] She faced Lupa, the one who would decide her fate. [break][break] Not only did Morgan live up to the legacy of her Great-Uncle but she also proved to be a true daughter of the sea, strong and patient. Ferocious and unrelenting. She quickly proved her worth after her induction into the First Cohort of the Legion but she remained ultimately untested for almost her full first year. She proved to not only be a talented warrior and shrewd tactician but incredibly loyal to the Legion, almost to a fault. After a few years she found herself surrounded by a constant, almost revolving door, crowd of Demigods some of whom wanted to compete with a daughter of one of the big three and some who simply wished to ride in the wake of her reliable, consistent success story where they might also find similar honour and prestige, after all she rarely lost. She rarely failed to meet the challenges placed before her, relentless and proud.
Hydrokinesis; Like many of her kin Morgan has inherited her father’s power over the waters of the world (meaning that she can breath underwater, command the oceans to a limited degree, she can heal minor wounds and the pressure of the seas does not affect her) though unlike many of her kin her might is drawn from the deepest, coldest places of the Earth’s oceans. Twisting them to her will. Most often this manifests with being able to freeze water (similar to cryokinesis), salty or not, into solid forms which she can wield like weapons and even freeze the water in the air, her mastery over the cold deep has grown with every passing day as she practices and trains. The icy waters often sap the life and energy of those who come into contact with Morgan’s powers but unfortunately this might comes at a cost for no demigod may wield the might of their forebears without paying a price. Morgan’s affinity for the cold depths makes her incredibly sensitive to heat, particularly while wielding her gifts, meaning that even lukewarm water feels like it is scalding her skin and her senses become sensitive to daylight, blurring her vision and twisting the world around her. She draws her power from the cold and the water, particularly empowered within deep water or when she can manipulate it but of course that means the opposite is true, the heat weakens her sapping her strength. [break][break] Divine authority; Once more like many of her kin Morgan holds authority over the denizens of her father’s domain, particularly those who plumb the depths. She can speak with, call upon and to a limited degree command these creatures but of course being a mortal many of the more wilful beasts will not only baulk at her commands but seek retribution for their summons, thus she uses this gift sparingly and never without offer of a reward for their service.
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.
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