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.
Isaak tried to go for another offended glare at the mention of breaking hearts, but it was wasted on Reynolds. Isaak knew himself very well and he wouldn't count himself a player... right? He shouldn't be, he was trying to be A Very Good Person these days. He just happened to like flirting with girls and maybe other things too and maybe he often got bored or just didn't really want to actually get tied down, but that was perfectly normal and reasonable for a funny and witty and handsome guy like him, right? Besides, he was young and a legionnaire and he had glory in his future - he was allowed to not settle down. Pshh, Reynolds didn't know what he was talking about.
Obviously Reynolds still remembered the ruler incident, and Isaak watched with narrowed, suspicious eyes as his best friend grinned, clearly reliving the memory. At least one of them looked back at that time with fondness and hilarity, and that person was most certainly not Isaak. He only snorted and made a rude sound like blowing a raspberry, one hand distractedly going to his hair as he imagined himself a blond. "Pfft, I could pull off anything," he muttered, although he did sound less confident than his words. Going that level of blond meant bleaching, and Isaak had heard of all sorts of horror stories about people bleaching their hair and having it all fall out afterwards. Isaak couldn't bear the thought of clumps of his lovely tresses coming out in the shower.
The son of Mercury shuffled along behind the Greek camper, not even bothering to put on a brave and stoic front. At least no one had passed them by, saving Isaak the double embarrassment of explaining his injury had been caused by a Greek as well as having anyone see his nose like this. His poor, perfect, innocent nose, so horribly crushed by a brute of a boy with far more strength than finesse. Although, Isaak supposed finesse wasn't a requirement to break someone's face. How utterly barbaric - at least Isaak had actually gone for a proper fighting stance rather than just charge at someone like a Pamplona bull.
As Reynolds pointed him to a bed, Isaak slowly made his way over as directed, hands in his pockets now and shoulders hunched, his face drawn as he sat himself down on the edge of the bed. He watched Reynolds move around the infirmary with only a little interest, wondering how and why his friend knew his way around medicines and first aid. Probably had to after always patching Isaak up during high school. It had always been Reynolds who'd looked after him after a fight, after all, Isaak's pride preventing him from admitting he'd needed to see the school nurse. Or maybe it had always just been part of Reynolds' blood, like his sarcasm and wit and favoured activity of scolding Isaak.
When the Greek camper came back and grabbed at Isaak's face, the son of Mercury's eyes widened, suddenly very unsure about the thing that he had a horrible feeling he knew was going to happen next. "Now wait, wait," Isaak squeaked, partly trusting Reynolds to actually fix his face and the other part even more sure that Reynolds was going to make him hurt for it. "Are you sure this is really--"" But Reynolds had completely ignored him, talking over him about counting to two, and Isaak hardly heard him finish 'one' before there was a flash of pain and a part of his face literally moved back into place.
"Ow ow ow!" There was a lot of yelling, a lot of curse words both in English and Latin, as well as a few select ones that Isaak had created himself - he was very proud of those. Isaak rocked back, clutching at his nose with one hand while reaching for the ice pack with his other. As the frozen plastic was laid across his face, Isaak glared at his best friend again, but was then distracted when Reynolds held up a mirror. Like a bird, Isaak's eyes were directed towards his own reflection, previous tantrum forgotten as he pulled the pack aside for a second to judge Reynolds' handiwork. "Fine," he admitted grudgingly as he covered his injury again. Isaak knew that smug look on Reynolds' face: it was what he liked to call Reynold's I told you so, so suck it face. "Yes, you're a genius at fixing my face."
There was a feminine voice talking to him as he contemplated his own demise, and Isaak tore his eyes from his study of the ceiling to look to his side. He could hardly move his head, though, but curiosity had killed the cat and Isaak was most definitely a cat. Wait, did he have a tail? He wasn't sure. But the voice did sound very pained, becoming even more so when she apparently tried to laugh. At least, that was what it sounded like to Isaak. Things were getting very confusing for him and his cat brain. If he talked, would it come out as a meow?
Because he was looking somewhat in her direction, Isaak was instantly distracted by the arrival of his best friend. The son of Mercury opened his mouth to probably say something stupid - or meow, it was a real toss up at this point - when Reynolds' eyes landed on him and promptly the other demigod began walking back the way he came. Isaak's face pulled into a frown, which was pretty difficult considering he didn't know he still had control of his facial muscles, and Isaak pulled back so that he was lying as he had been before, gaze straight up and wondering if he would be able to see his soul as he died. Should he try for rebirth? Three times a Very Good Person and aim for the Isles of the Blest? Hmm.
Then he remembered the girl had asked him a question, and belatedly Isaak tried to remember what she'd said. Mincemeat. "Hmm? Oh yeah, I like mince. Ground. Mince. Took a pounding. Like me?" Distractedly, Isaak wondered if he was now headed for a can, about to be squashed into tin to be sold on a supermarket shelf. That wasn't right, was it? The legionnaire lapsed into thoughtful and horrified silence, wondering just how much of his brain had been left on the ground in the arena.
Around the periphery of his vision, he watched with detachment as Reynolds moved towards him armed with a flashlight and looking like he could kill. That was pretty them - Isaak in trouble, Reynolds busting him out with the promise of murder. How very typical. All the muttered scolding was met with a single raised limb as Isaak tried to show his friend the glory of his middle finger. He wasn't sure he was achieving it, though. Turning to the blonde girl - and completely interrupting Reynolds' check up of his mental and physical capabilities - Isaak asked her, "Am I holding up my middle finger to him? I can't tell. Heeeey, your hair is so pretty." Isaak made a move to reach for her, but he wasn't actually sure if his other arm was obeying him.
Isaak was not Having A Good Time. He'd decided to try and force a rematch with the Ares kid from last week in hand-to-hand combat, because Isaak had done extra training to get himself ready and psyched up for it. He would win this time, and the girl who'd caught his eye for that month would realise just how manly and awesome and just in general freaking legendary he was and would leave her Hulk boyfriend. For Isaak, because Isaak was the best, obviously.
Suffice it to say, that was not how Isaak's morning had gone down. Most embarrassingly, the son of Mercury had been placed against a girl from the first cohort who'd absolutely knocked the living lights out of him. Isaak was pretty sure he'd lost more than a few braincells that morning, left behind in the dust from where he'd needed to be carried out by one of the referees. Absolutely humiliating, but at least the blow had been dealt by one of their own. Imagine being taken down by a Greek. The utter shame. And at least he hadn't seen the girl watching his performance - she was probably watching her Ares boyfriend instead. He'd saved face for a little bit, although his literal face was not saved. At all. In the least.
Half his face was throbbing, his brain was throbbing, his skull was pounding. He could only see out of one eye, and Isaak wanted to lament some more about the renewed loss of his good looks, but he could barely string two words together to form a coherent sentence. Was he dying? Was this what it meant to die? He couldn't die now! He hadn't kissed the Greek girl and lorded it over her soon-to-be Ares ex-boyfriend yet! Isaak hadn't accomplished half the things he'd planned for his glorious life, all the awards he'd been planning on winning, and all the roses that were still to be thrown at his feet as he paraded around Camp Jupiter. Oh, woe was Isaak Nielsen's life, to be cut so short.
Isaak didn't look up from his morose contemplation of the demise of his own beauty, even as Reynolds started talking, although he did turn to look at his friend just as Reynolds gave him that look. It was the look his best friend often reserved for whenever Isaak decided to do something particularly idiotic, at least for Reynolds, and considering the amount of trouble Isaak got into on a regular basis in high school, he was well-versed in that expression. He had even imaged it sometimes, before Reynolds had arrived into Camp Jupiter, as Isaak had missed his friend a lot when they'd lost contact. Isaak would have even taken more sardonic looks and more lectures from Reynolds if it meant he'd at least be around. You know, to have his back, which he most certainly did not do that night. But Isaak would forgive him that transgression this time.
Delicate eyebrows scrunched in the middle as Isaak debated whether he should be offended that Reynolds didn't think he had game, or laugh at Reynolds' joke. Of course, the default setting for the son of Mercury was 'offended', so he gave his best friend an affronted, unimpressed look. "Absolutely not," he replied, miffed. "I'm much better than that. I'd have had her eating out of my palm if her absolute d*ck of an admirer didn't mow me down." Shrugging a shoulder carelessly, Isaak looked away again, still refusing to acknowledge the girl had a boyfriend. Isaak would have his way, somehow...
His internal moaning was paused as Reynolds told him he wouldn't scar, and Isaak looked up hopefully. At the flat look on the Greek demigod's face, though, Isaak suddenly had second thoughts. Reynolds didn't often get him into trouble; usually his best friend bailed him out of it. But suddenly Isaak's hyperactive imagination went into overdrive. "Is this like the time you told me the bendy ruler definitely wouldn't hit me in the face if I pulled it back hard enough?" he demanded accusingly, the early memory of their friendship still seared into his mind.
The question of ice destroyed all resurrected hope that his face would be fine, because how would Isaak know where there was ice? This was it, this was the last question and he was about to win the top prize of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire and he was going to fail it because the question was where to find ice in Camp Jupiter? Groaning dejectedly, Isaak slumped against the wall, defeat in his shoulders as he muttered, "I don't know." He wanted to put his head in his hands and wail to his heart's content but his pride prevented him from succumbing completely to his grief. He did, however, shoot Reynolds a tired glare and a flash of his middle finger at his sarcastic comment about Isaak's personality. By the gods, his whole life had turned to a washed out grey in the knowledge of his face being uglified. Was there even a point to living?
Isaak didn't say anything more as Reynolds studied his face again, following Reynolds dejectedly like a marionette with its strings cut. He didn't know what Reynolds had in mind, but Isaak knew there wouldn't be ice at the medic's tent. The jab about crying hit him hard though - because it was so true - and for a second Isaak was tempted to cuff Reynolds in the back of the head. But he kept his hands to himself for now; after all, Reynolds wasn't completely leaving him to his new fate. Isaak could be grateful, maybe for a little bit.
Of course Reynolds would be all logical about it, and Isaak didn't want logic in the face of the beating he'd just taken. Besides, he'd been innocent. "I didn't know she had that Hulk of a monster rooting for her," Isaak complained, feeling very justified in doing so. And he hadn't. If he'd known that he'd be getting his face punched so squarely, he would have thought twice about it. Probably. Maybe. At the very least, Isaak would have waited for a more opportune moment to flirt than right there in the middle of the Mess Hall in plain view of all the Romans and that one Greek. While Isaak had very little self-control when it came to girls, he did have a very strong sense of self-preservation.
Carefully, he touched at his face again, just in time for Reynolds to notice and scold him. Huffing, Isaak pulled his hand away, keeping his gaze on the distant horizon behind Reynolds as the Greek camper came closer to study his injuries. He was probably going to scar, he just knew it. "It's going to scar, isn't it?" he muttered, unable to stop touching his face again after Reynolds healed it then moved away. Isaak didn't even know how bad he looked, but he just knew his perfect face was going to be marred forever. Oh, woe was he. All of his internal whining and drama about no longer being beautiful was uninterrupted as his best friend leaned on the wall of the building beside him.
That was until Reynolds turned to him with a smirk and asked him if he could pull of an Owen Wilson. Offended and also terrified, Isaak moved forwards to grasp Reynolds by his shoulders, shaking him slightly as he wailed, "No! You have to fix my face, Reynolds, fix it." Anguished, Isaak broke away the next second, his face pulled into an expression that could only be described as a kicked puppy look. All his swag, his charm, his beauty - gone. Just because some idiot from Greek Mars had taken him down for smiling and chatting at a pretty girl. "I'm never going to be pretty again, am I?" A pause, and then, "Do you think girls like an Owen Wilson look?"
He was going to have to rely on his personality from then on, wasn't he? Luckily, Isaak also had a sterling, sparkling personality. His damaged face would detract from it, he was sure, but that meant he just had to be extra-charming, extra-witty, extra-funny. A sigh was pulled from the depths of his chest as the son of Mercury sank to the ground in his despair, his eyes downcast. Well, aside from his personality, he was also going to need to rely on being a kickass legionnaire, if only so that he could get that moving mountain from the Greek cohort and get him good in a rematch. He was going to kick some gluteus maximus.
With a small grunt, Isaak swung out his arm, his hand in a closed fist and aiming for the Greek camper, but he missed. To his surprise, the camper had dodged his blow -- no, wait, he was just falling to the ground. Isaak's eyebrows furrowed as he watched in confusion, before the answer became clear: Reynolds. Isaak was torn between telling him to go away because he got this, or accepting his presence as backup. Distracted as he was by the appearance of his best friend, his brother from another mother, Isaak completely missed to notice the last wild swing from his fallen opponent. It got him right on the jaw, and Isaak staggered to the side.
Luckily for Isaak, Reynolds had already had his arm in a grip and was pushing him along, but if the son of Mercury had been hoping for something sympathetic, or maybe a show of support for his cause to win the lady's love and maybe a punch to the gut on someone from his own camp, Isaak was sorely mistaken. He almost stumbled as Reynolds practically dragged him out of the Mess Hall. The hissed directive to keep moving was only met with an offended whine of, "What the heck? You're supposed to have my back!" Isaak supposed he could understand William's reluctance to step up against his own cohort - after all, he had to sleep with them - but Isaak had thought years, nay, decades, of friendship trumped anything like having immortal extended family.
Upon exiting the Mess Hall and leaving the chaos behind them, Isaak paused to gingerly touch his face. Things were broken, he just knew it, maybe his jaw or his nose or his cheekbones or something. He would have a bruise and it would be huge and ugly and he didn't know whether to be proud of it or ashamed that it was Greek that had left the mark. Chicks dig scars, of course, but no Roman girl would want to have anything to do with a third cohort legionnaire who couldn't even hold up his own against a Greek. With a groan, Isaak turned to spit blood out of his mouth. Gross, he shouldn't have done that. Now he was ugly and uncouth. How had his life spiralled so completely out of his control?
Isaak only laughed in response to Estelle's question about regretting it - most people around the son of Mercury asked themselves that at some point in time. He didn't just get into trouble, he got into trouble regularly, and like all troublesome people, he claimed that he never went looking for trouble, trouble came looking for him. Isaak always believed himself to be innocent in all things, and he lived by this belief, even if it seemed like denial to most everyone else. Whatever, no one's opinion mattered to him. Except for maybe people who could give him punishment.
As they finally arrived at the Ludus - Isaak embarrassingly a bit out of breath like the lazy gluteus maximus that he was - he started pulling at the leather strap to undo the shield hanging around his shoulders. Tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, Isaak grunted as he swung the heavy metal around to his front. When it was secured to his arm and he felt his body balance be thrown off again, Isaak pulled the spatha from the side of his hip. His grip was loose on the weapons as he walked a little to the side to find a place for them to train. It was probably a very bad idea, considering Isaak was only quite good at being a stabby Roman while Estelle looked far more ready for it than he, but he wasn't going to just leave her to find someone else to train when they'd come into the Ludus together.
He had just turned to face her upon reaching a space open enough for their training, and had given her a wide, welcoming grin between his lifted shield and ready spatha, when D'Eresby clapped him on the shoulder and practically yanked him sideways to get his attention, not in the least bit concerned about the weapons in his hands. He gave her an affronted look, his mouth dropping open and eyebrows coming together - the girl had a spiteful grip and it had hurt his delicate body - but she stopped his surely-forthcoming complaint with a hard glare. The glare was accompanied with a jerked thumb indicating the new probatio standing behind her, and Isaak's offended look deepened even further. But D'Eresby ignored his expression completely, flouncing off once she'd delivered her message.
The son of Mercury gave the probatio a weak grin, before turning to shrug at Estelle. "Sorry," he told her, sounding more genuine this time than the first time he'd apologised. Isaak meant it more this time. "Duty calls." He shrugged at her again before giving her another smile. "Maybe see you after training?" And with that, Isaak turned to face his responsibilities. He could always ignore D'Eresby who probably got given the training in the first place and just hadn't wanted to do it, but Isaak didn't want to run that risk in case their Centurions had chosen him. Two irritated Centurions was definitely worse than one. With a defeated sigh, Isaak readied his stance, this time against the newest camper destined for the third cohort.
First and foremost, Isaak would like to say this whole evening was not his fault. Admittedly, yes, he may have seen a pretty girl in the Mess Hall during dinner and decided to sidle up to her and start talking to her. No, it wasn't anything rude or disruptive, he was literally just asking how she was, and maybe he was a bit close to her, and maybe he'd been pulling out all stops with his flirting because that was just how Isaak was. Asking him not to flirt with a pretty girl was like asking him not to be himself, and that was just really rude. Yes, even if that girl turned out to be a Greek camper, and yes, even if it that girl turned out to have a boyfriend or jealous admirer who decided Isaak's face was probably missing his fist.
Of course, Isaak couldn't take that lying down. He had the pride of Rome resting on his shoulders! Besides, fighting in the legion was pretty normal, just as long as things were kept even between the fighters. Isaak was holding on fine by himself for a few seconds, that was until a cowardly uppercut nearly toppled him to the ground. As it was, he flew back a little and hit his side against the edge of a table. It winded him, but Isaak was a proud member of the Roman legion and he wasn't going to let some Greek push him around. A quick check of their audience confirmed the girl was still watching - worriedly not watching him, which hurt, by the way - and Isaak knew he wasn't going to be humiliated in this fight.
He charged again despite his injury and the promise of a shiner on his right eye and bruise under his chin. For the lady, for the pride of Rome, and for his own ego! His arms locked against the other demigod's as they both wrestled, trying to get the other to the ground. Isaak would like to re-iterate that this was not his fault at all in the least.
Isaak's eyes drooped a little as Estelle told him she wasn't going to the Mess Hall. That was a bit of a bummer - he was slightly regretting not being fast enough to grab two pieces of bread now. With a final mournful bite, the last of the bread disappeared into his mouth, and he dusted the crumbs off his hands. He made sure to finish chewing and swallowing his mouthful - the stinging words of an unimpressed Reynolds asking if he'd been brought up in a barn ringing clearly in his head - before he spoke again. "I'll go with you to the Ludus, if you like?" he offered, brilliant smile on his face again. "I'm headed there, too." As though she couldn't tell by his get up. Isaak was not necessarily the brightest crayon in the box when faced by pretty girls.
With a quick jerk of his thumb to his side in the direction of the training area, Isaak began to walk in that direction, his previously fast pace now slowed to keep in time with his new companion. It was nice to take his time, something he always liked to do. In fact, he'd have taken this pace to training this morning if his centurion hadn't caught him coming in so late in the Mess Hall.
Speaking of... "Nielsen!"
The sound of his centurion's voice acted like a whip, and Isaak barely glanced behind him before he immediately started running. Laughing, he turned to his companion even as he sped up, calling out, "C'mon, let's go!" The weight of his training weapons was uncomfortable and threw off his gait, but he soon adjusted to the additions. His body rejoiced at the run - it was about the only physical activity Isaak actually liked to do, or at least, didn't complain about too much - and his eyes were bright as he laughed again. The son of Mercury risked a glance behind him and noticed his Centurion had stopped and was just glaring at him with her hands on her hips. Cheekily, he sent her a quick wave, before turning to look at Estelle with a wide grin.
He'd just stepped outside the threshold of the barracks when something grabbed him from behind and Isaak let out the unholiest squawk. His hands flew to his mouth to stifle the sound - to not wake the sleeping legionnaires, of course, not because he was ever so undignified to let the sound out of his mouth in the first place - his eyes wide and staring at his attacked because this was how he was going to die, wasn't he. But it was only his barrack-mate. Face twisting in irritation and his lips pulling down at the corners, Isaak slapped her hands away from him, hissing indignantly, "What the f*ck do you think you're doing? Are you trying to give me a heart attack??"
Isaak didn't even care that she'd caught him so completely off guard and that was a sign of a weakling and not a proud Roman legionnaire blah blah. He'd never strove to be a pride of Rome and he didn't care that she'd gotten the drop on him and she was standing there smirking with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised in superiority. He didn't care because he'd almost died and he knew D'Eresby would probably have just hidden his body than tell anyone what had become of him. Clearly, she didn't care at all that he'd almost had an infarction. Probably. Reynolds was always talking mechanical medicinal terms around him; Isaak had long learned to tune out his best friend's mutterings.
"I'm not your delivery boy," he whispered harshly. Even his whispering voice sounded like it had gone an octave higher, because he was mad that she had called him a delivery boy and not because he'd been scared half out of his wits. And Isaak was very proud of his wits. He'd honed them over years and knew of very few people who could keep up with them. If he'd lost even a single wit because of what D'Eresby had pulled tonight, he would be very upset. "Get your own dang favours. Or!" Despite the whole almost-killing-him thing, Isaak did somewhat like hanging out with the daughter of Ceres. Only when she wasn't running her mouth off about him, of course, and tonight seemed to be going okay so far. His eyes lit up a little and he grinned in excitement. "Come with me! Where are you going? I was going into town, but we can go wherever you're going, too."
The girl - Estelle, as she introduced herself - looked over Isaak's shoulder, and the son of Mercury had the funniest feeling that his centurion had appeared in the two seconds he had turned his back in that direction. His head whipped around so fast he would have hurt himself if his neck wasn't so used to the random contortions and angles he'd put it through when he was sneaking around or being nosy. But the path from the Mess Hall was still empty; so he turned his grin back to the Estelle with a shrug. "I'm super fast so she probably decided to let me go. I came in first in track last week." Another winning smile - Isaak liked his little brags. He didn't usually get to do them without copping a slap to his face from his friends.
Suddenly, his spidey senses tingled. Isaak had long since learned to trust those instincts; they had gotten him out of tight corners and near brushes often enough, and considering what he got up to in his spare time, he'd been in plenty of those scenarios. With a frightened expression on his face, he looked behind him again, just in time to see the familiar hair of his centurion coming around the corner. Isaak's whole body jerked as though he'd been electrocuted, before he immediately dashed behind Estelle, his tall frame and wide shield comically doing very little to hide him from view. He waited a beat, then two, before he carefully peaked over her shoulder to check if his centurion had noticed him yet.
To his relief, it wasn't his centurion at all. Exhaling audibly, Isaak returned to his previous position in front of Estelle, although he kept his body at more of a side angle so he could easily see behind him without needing to turn a whole 180. "Phew!" he remarked brightly, as though he hadn't just been cowering behind another demigod like a child. There was a quick sideways flip of his hair as Isaak regained his cool. "So anyway, were you headed back into the Mess Hall? I only got my one piece of bread" - and demonstrating, held up the food as though Estelle couldn't see it, before taking another bite out of it - "d'you think you could get me another?"
The barracks were dark, the silence occasionally interrupted by the odd shuffle and snore of the Roman legion. It was during this complete and utter peace that Isaak's eyes snapped open, his eyes sparkling in the meager light from the moonlight streaming in through the windows. He'd been waiting for the last shifty camper to fall into deeper sleep - sharing the barracks with the same people day in and day out for months had made Isaak a bit of an expert on his cohort's sleeping patterns. While they were somewhat light sleepers, courtesy of a life always preparing for war, Isaak knew no one would really be on guard. They were just the third cohort, after all, they weren't some top-dog-wannabes like the first and second.
Still, the son of Mercury's moves were stealthy and silent and slow as he pulled back his blankets, his head on a constant swivel as he studied his surroundings for any reaction. His outdoor clothes were already on, having used the excuse of being too tired to change, falling straight into bed and crawling under his covers. Such was their day-to-day life (and Isaak being a whiny lazy-gluteus maximus) that no one questioned him as he promptly 'fell asleep'. They all probably thought it would be his fault that he woke up uncomfortably. Well, joke was on them! Isaak was going to be completing the stealthiest spy mission and he was going to ace it, so there.
His super secret spy mission was actually just sneaking into New Rome to look for snacks. Not that there was anything wrong with the food at Camp; he just missed the variety and also just because he could. He was the son of Mercury, after all. This sort of thing was practically baked into him, or so he liked to think. A brief thought slipped through his mind that he should bring William along to join in his shenanigans, but Isaak didn't want to risk raising a hue-and-cry amongst the Greeks for infiltrating their cohort.
As he crept to his barracks door, blood alive and adrenaline pumping at his escapade, Isaak did his utmost best to resist humming the Mission Impossible theme out loud.
... He'd do that later when he was outside and had less chance of waking someone up.
Even though the female camper he'd knocked down was hecka pretty, Isaak had learned very early on that Roman girls did not always appreciate being flirted with. After the third or fourth time he'd had his hand pulled behind his back in a horribly painful lock, Isaak had finally cottoned on to the fact that demigods were a little less forgiving about such things. He'd since kept his witticisms and jokes as non-flirty as possible - in his case, that meant they became more about complaining about things. At least he hadn't actually lost a lot of friends to his whining; Isaak liked to think that was just part of his natural charm.
This girl in particular, he felt he'd seen with the first cohort lot. That made her even less likely to find him amusing, and Isaak was not one of those guys who kept trying even when he knew he was not wanted. Besides, he didn't particularly feel like a dagger to the gut or something equally painful. He'd just escaped his centurion - he wasn't going to try his luck again so soon. Still, his smile was breezy and the shrug of his shoulders loose as he answered, "My centurion's probably going to chase me down like a harpy." His tone was casual despite the seriousness of his words, a second bite to the bread punctuating just how seriously he was taking his potentially precarious situation. Although, he did spare a glance behind him to ensure his centurion wasn't bearing down at him that exact minute. Finding the area free of rage and fury-fueled demigod powers, Isaak shrugged again as he turned back to the girl he'd knocked down. "Looks like she's given up on me."
More likely, his centurion was going to catch him when he returned to the Mess Hall for lunch, or assigned him something menial and labourious right after kicking his gluteus maximus in training. It was hard to tell with Romans sometimes. But that would be a bridge he'd cross later; Isaak was hardly one to worry about his future, even if it could involve his centurion's wrath. A winning smile was his apology to the other girl. "I'm Isaak, by the way. Should probably introduce myself after elbowing you to the floor."
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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most images and gifs used for the skin are taken from assassins creed, the percy jackson movies and various google finds.
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grip and was pushing him along, but if the son of Mercury had been hoping for something sympathetic, or maybe a show of support for his cause to win the lady's love and maybe a punch to the gut on someone from his own camp, Isaak was sorely mistaken. He almost stumbled as Reynolds practically dragged him out of the Mess Hall. The hissed directive to keep moving was only met with an offended whine of, "What the heck? You're supposed to have my back!" Isaak supposed he could understand William's reluctance to step up against his own cohort - after all, he had to sleep with them - but Isaak had thought years, nay, decades, of friendship trumped anything like having immortal extended family.
