bombyx_mori | Camp Half Blood

Camp Half Blood

Welcome, Demigods!

"If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Being a half-blood is dangerous."

[Basically, if you've ever wanted to throw your character into the world of Heroes of Olympus, now you can! Make them a Greek demigod! Make them Roman! Make them a Satyr if you want. Just make it so that they've always been here (If they have, all the better for them.) Post with a few options, or let people respond with their own! Have fun.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Option A]

[For anyone who cares to notice, there is pan flute music coming from a little into the woods. Which... is not very surprising or unique, not in a camp populated by quite a few satyrs. The quality of the music though --it sounds like the pan equivalent of elevator music-- makes it quite easier to figure out who exactly is responsible here. And sure enough, behind a few trees, in the middle of a small clearing, Gamzee can be found chilling the fuck out, as he would put it himself.

He ain't wearing pants. Of course, he ain't wearing pants. If you had ever felt how bad a fur-and-fabric wedgie could get, you'd understand. You'd understand. He's wearing a shirt though. A nice tie-dye shirt that seems to scream 'if lost, please burn or return to the nineteen-sixties'.

As stated before, Gamzee is laying down a tune. A lazy tune that makes the plants between his hooves wriggle and grow, unfurling leaves as they shoot up from between the grass and that is not a dandelion, damnit Gamzee.]

[Option B]

[Lay it on me I will follow you like fucking sister act.]

[It isn't hard to figure that Gamzee is chilling the fuck out, because Gamzee usually is chilling the fuck out. In fact, most of Gamzee's time is probably spent in chilling the fuck out. It makes him pretty easy to find, even when he's out finding half-bloods to bring to camp.

At the moment, Dirk isn't exactly looking for Gamzee, he just happens to stumble across him. At least it's not literally. Instead, he just stares at Gamzee, and at the plants he's growing.]

Dude, what the hell.

[The world is too beautiful to be strung out to the highest degree all the time.

He lowers his flute when Dirk speaks up, the Cannabis indica sproutlings protected in the circle of his furry legs.]

Hey man. What can I do you for?

Nothing. Just wondering what the fuck you're doing that for.

[He gets the feeling Gamzee's probably going to offer to share the wonderful plants he's just grown.]

Shit, bro, you ain't as to all be informed what chill-making miracles these lil' bros can make happen at a motherfucker?

[Seriously, Dirk, are you that dense? Why the fuck do you think anyone grows mary jane. It ain't for the pretty flowers, let me tell you that.]

I am fully informed. Which is why I'm wondering why you're doing it here. Someone's probably obligated to blow you into smithereens for that.

That sounds like some manner of rudeness, just all harshing a bro what is trying to just be chilling here.

[Very rude! Come on, he is a good satyr, isn't he? More or less. Let him have this vice.]

[Hoof stomp and snort.]

You are NOT supposed to be growing those plants!

[Gamzee lowers his flute, though he doesn't particularly seem offended.]

Awww, bro, don't all be like that. Just all the finest of natural miracles what I got here. Ain't nothing wrong with that.

[Seriously, man! It is natural. Nature things are good for you.]

[Equius is unswayed by this nature argument.]

Mr. D is going to be furious if he finds out you're growing those. He'll make you play pinnacle with him for weeks if he finds out.

[Maybe Equius would be more swayed by Gamzee's quite reasonable arguments if he actually tried these miracles.]

Haha, you think? I'm sure he'd find him some understanding at these miracles a bro got here.

[Like Mr. D would like to spend weeks of his time hanging out with Gamzee. By now he has surely given up on making anything outta him. Gamzee has just become a fixture of the camp. Like poison ivy. And all the Ares cabin girls syncing up together.]

[Oh gods, let's not talk about the worries of Ares cabin girls every fourth week.]

[Equius opens his mouth to argue Gamzee's point, but he really can't. Mr. D probably would enjoy some natural miracles, since he's off the wine and all, and he stamps his hoof in irritation.]

You're polluting yourself. You should stop. Immediately.

[Forget the worries of the Ares girls, lets be real here about the worries of the rest of the camp. Capture the flag turns very bloody those weeks.

Really though, the thing is, Gamzee thinks of Equius as his bro. Even if Equius was remarkably uptight for a centaur and nothing at all like all of Gamzee's party pony bros. But still, a bro was a bro, and you hadda stand by your bros. Make 'em happy when you could.]

Aight.

[Wait, what? That wasn't how this was supposed to go!]

You're agreeing with me?

[Gamzee gives a relaxed little shrug.]

Sure, man. We're bros, right? If you are all to be saying I should knock some shit off, then shit, what kinda motherfucker am I not to be listening here.

[Not that he could actually keep it up. All his promises are as empty as his skull.]

[Now this is interesting. Equius didn't realize they were bros. It's not that centaurs traditionally don't hang out with satyrs, it's just that yeah, centaurs traditionally don't hang out with satyrs, much less become bros with them. His ears flatten out beside his head, and one front hoof paws at the ground, but he's definitely intrigued.]

I didn't realize we were bros.