Lena was leaning over the top edge of the crow's nest, less than a foot above Mulgrew. The only thing keeping her from falling off was her right foot which was hooked loosely around the top of the mast. Through her hair, Lena saw a pristine looking ship with men scurrying about on it as they cruised by each other almost lazily.
Lena bit her bottom lip with excitement as she clenched her pistols in her swinging arms. What a sight they must make; their ship looking dirtier than an unkempt brig. Barnacles clung lovingly to the sides of the once varnished wood, kelp hung from ropes as if it were growing on it. A quick gust of wind ruffled her hair to the side, giving her a clear view of the enemy. Eyes narrowing, she slowly pulled the hammer back on the gun in her right hand, feeling the satisfying click under her fingertips. Of course, this mission was going to be a bit different from others, instead of going for gold and valuables, they were going for a much larger treasure. Lena looked down at her arms, resting her neck for a second and watching Mulgrew, her tan arms dotted with smears of gunpowder that shimmered silver in the morning sun. It was going to be a good day...
"On your command, Captain," Lena murmured down to him, practically twitching with anticipation.
((Sorry I kinda disappeared there, guys, the weekend was super busy and I wasn't even home most of the time. Julie suggested and was cool with me making a new character so if you could just disregard my other character… that would be great.))
Name: Lena Arwen Searlait
Nickname: N/A
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Which Crew? Mulgrew
Appearance: Lena has sleek, black hair that ends at her jawline and lies very flat. Her venom green eyes peek out from under her dark hair, narrowed and dangerous. Even though she doesn’t always show it, she has real strength under her fingers. She wears a short, black jacket that ends just under her rib cage, the sleeves cut off. She has very tanned skin, part of it ethnicity, part of it being out in the sun all day. She has a vermillion and black sea serpent tattoo that wraps its way up from her right wrist to the top of her bicep. The tips of her fingers have a pinkish tint as she usually ignores it if her gun is burning up from the heat the gun powder generates, often singing her fingertips.
Personality: Lena doesn’t understand the concept of “mercy” or “compassion” and has hardly ever been on the receiving end of such emotions with her cold, shut out cover. She’s quick to point fingers and drag others down. She’ll hardly ever take the blame for something without taking at least three others down with her, pulling them down into the abyss. Trust is something she also doesn’t have the best experience with, but she admires Mulgrew to a great extent and is the one person she would die for if he asked. Of course, most of the time, she would never reveal such a private emotion and prefers the company of her pistols and the ocean. Sarcasm and verbal poison come naturally to her and like some snakes, she can spit some pretty awful things. At times however, she will be a little friendly and endearing, but she likes to keep those emotions for those she can trust.
Biography: Lena was a dirty orphan brought up on the streets stealing and snarling lies. She worked with other younger boys to get food and supplies, often letting them be caught while she could get away, using them to boost herself up. Lena never thought she would be found out or would have to pay for the things she had done until she was caught at the dock at age eleven by a shopkeeper who didn’t buy the story that her “brother” was just hit by a carriage and that she needed to come quick. Instead, the woman had invited her inside to have something to eat, but actually locked Lena in the upstairs room with a desk, some papers, and a tiny window while the old shopkeeper had gone to fetch the guards. Lena was betrayed and thus, died her trust in anyone. Lena caught onto what was going on and ransacked the room she was trapped in, finding a pistol in the top left drawer of the wooden desk. By this time, she was hearing heavy footsteps rushing up the stairs and the old woman swung open the door to see an empty room. Confused and frantic, the woman started to rush around the room before the crack of a gun rang out through the room. The woman collapsed to the ground, blood pouring out of her left shoulder, right above her heart. This was Lena’s first experience with a gun and it was exhilarating. Dangerous, but exhilarating. From there, Lena had squeezed her way out of the tiny window onto the shingled roof as one of the guards checked the shopkeeper and the other one had to rush down the stairs and out of the house to catch up to the girl nervously jumping from roof to roof. Eventually, she jumped down from the roof, rolling off a flimsy awning onto the dirt. She jumped up, dashing towards the dock and ran up the ramp of one of the ships as men loaded cargo onto it. What she didn’t know was that the men were pirates, ready to set sail.
Here, starts Lena’s life as a pirate. She was caught soon after she came aboard, immediately brought to the captain. The captain, a man who never became very famous and was odd in the eyes of Lena, assigned her the role of Powder Monkey. The true irony of it all was hilarious in a sick kind of way; Lena had used the young boys to not get caught and feed herself, but now these pirates were going to use her to commit crimes that she could be hung for so that they could leave her. Even though she was expendable, the crew never put her up to anything she couldn’t dash out of. Much to her surprise, the life of a pirate was more appealing to her than she had originally thought. A couple of the crew members even taught her how to use her pistol properly, but it took her ages considering she was still young and not very strong. Then, one day, after she had turned eighteen, something unimaginable happened: the captain had been killed in battle. From there, the crew fell apart; arguing over spoils of his belongings and his role. Lena had decided to leave the crew, dropping herself off alone at one of the ports. Eventually, she made it to Mulgrew’s ship, once again, starting at the bottom as one of the sail makers, tying together nets to create hammocks and traps. It wasn’t the same as the other crew, but she was on the sea and pillaging so she couldn’t have been happier. She remained at that position for over two years, jumping to the role of a Cooper for a time (a barrel maker) until her love for firearms became evident as her skill started to grow. Mulgrew finally promoted Lena to Master Gunner and presented her with an extra gun, identical to the one she’d been carrying around.
“It’s always better to have more fire power than your enemies,” he’d told her and from that day she held a silent respect for him, always taking his side in arguments or issues.
Weapons: Lena carries twin pistols with her and a large bag of ammunition, packets of gunpowder shoved in her pockets constantly. She also hides a tiny, unloaded, single-shot gun in the seams of her jacket if she ever gets in a sticky situation.
Likes: The smell of gunpowder and the sea. She enjoys the adventure at sea and constantly anticipates the next battle or murder. Pillaging is a favorite because she feels she can savor the anxiety and fear in the air. She has a certain love of fire, not evolved enough to be considered a pyromaniac, but she does commit the occasional arson and enjoys watching the flames, a brooding smile on her lips. Lena likes to feel powerful because if she has no control in a situation, she tends to shut others out, sometimes making rash decisions, she feels that have a little too much power is a lifetime better than feel powerless.
Dislikes: Cowards leave a bad taste in her mouth and will kill them over petty things if she gets the chance, feeling that they aren’t worthy of human life, that pond scum has more purpose than them. She is also not one to drink alcohol and believes it simply gives enemies the opportunity to attack (she’s quite often paranoid). The Navy, while pirates like themselves should probably fear them, for Lena she just harbors a burning annoyance for the association and becomes very uncooperative in their presence, even if they try to make a deal with her.
Strengths: She is fiercely loyal of Mulgrew and will bite back with all of her strength to keep his journey simple and to the point. Lena has moments of resourcefulness, using her surroundings to get out of tight spots. When it comes to working under Mulgrew, Lena sometimes seems to forget that she is simply a human held back by her own body and simply the laws of life. Meaning, she can get shot straight in the arm, but if she is carrying something out for Mulgrew, she can activate the adrenaline almost willfully to carry it out before assessing her own injuries. Of course, this isn’t for all of the time and if she is stalled enough, the adrenaline will wear off and her injuries will become apparent and will become a bit more of a liability because she’s not used to fighting with pain (so kind of a strength and a weakness).
Weaknesses: She hardly ever practices sword fighting so she’s quite miserable with a blade and close-combat. At this time in history it takes a while to reload pistols such as these so at times it’s inconvenient if you’re currently in the middle of a battle. She has stiff trust issues with nearly anyone but Mulgrew, with whom she has a quiet admiration for which can sometimes come off as being rude or ignorant.
Job on ship: Lena had started off as a Powder Monkey (a young worker that usually went unpaid and was expendable) until she had proven herself a worthy Master Gunner as pistols are her passion.
Other:
At first, Cerulean was sure she was going crazy, a voice had appeared out of nowhere, finishing the chanty she had started with a deep, gravelly baritone sound. Shock flashed across her face as her voice died out of the verse, the voice finishing on his own. Cerulean felt as if she couldn't even contemplate what had just happened. She was glued to the sand, her feet halfway sunk into the soft particles, eyes wide and disbelieving. She was so sure she was alone the fact that she wasn't was a little more than she expected in the serenity of the night. Then, a face appeared over the side, looking down with what appeared to be interest, her face reflecting his. Her mouth slowly dropped open, her mind screaming at her to move, her body not wanting to listen. From the light of the moon, she could tell he had shaggy black hair, but her shocked mind was having trouble even contemplating the fact that a human had caught sight of her. Then came something even more inconceivable occurred: he spoke to her. He spoke to her.
"How do you know that song?" he asked amicably enough. Cerulean just stupidly stared up at him, her body leaning back towards the sea, but she did shrug.
"Uh," she started hastily, "Just... from my father." The answer had slipped out by accident, but it had sounded probable enough. Truthfully, she was surprised she had responded at all; her tongue felt like it had swollen and despite how warm a night it was, Cerulean felt as if she had been dunked in ice water. With balled fists and a body tensed up in anxiety, Cerulean looked up at the man who seemed much more relaxed than her.
Cerulean slithered along the bottom of the shelf, the moonlight making the sand appear silver under the serene waters.
"Where is it?" she asked herself as she looked up, into the shadowy waters. She could feel the tide rolling over her back as she searched for the creature that led her this way. Quickly, Cerulean lifted her head out of the water, attempting to see as much of the sand as possible before a splotch of green caught her eye. A grin split across her face as she darted closer to the shallow water, less than a foot away from a sea turtle. Cerulean had been following the turtle for at least a couple hours, curious on where it thought it was going. All she knew right now was that the turtle was getting closer and closer to the land, the two of them barely skimming under the surface. Cerulean had never seen a turtle act quite so strangely. Finally, the turtle had ambled it's way so far up onto the sand it had to start crawling. At this point, Cerulean hesitated and looked up at the earth, hair dripping with sea water. She saw what looked like a city growing out of the side of a hill. Little houses and cottages dotted the side of it, some spilling out warm, golden light while others sat dilapidated and shadowy. She saw that the sand ended a few feet ahead, giving away to stone, but the turtle continued on quietly.
Not far off to the side, Cerulean saw a large ship docked in the port, but it seemed as if no one was aboard. Satisfied with no one in sight, Cerulean somewhat reluctantly crawled out of the water to follow the creature and its instinct. As Cerulean army crawled out of the water and onto the tiny area of beach, a weakness spread it's way down the length of her tail. After a second of awkward fidgeting, Cerulean felt her legs slip apart. She flipped onto her back and sat up, moving the thin, gossamer-like skirt that had formed up to her knees, staring glumly at the thin and malnourished looking twigs that lay where her tail should have. Cerulean looked over her shoulder at the turtle and saw it slowly and almost mindlessly starting to dig a hole in the sand. She turned back to her legs and took a deep breath.
"Just for a second. No one is here," she murmured and struggled to stand on legs that looked as if they would break any moment. Slowly, she found her point of balance and turned to watch the turtle that continued to dig. She looked over to her left, the hulking ship casting a shadow on her as it blocked out the moon. Glancing back at the turtle who once again, paid her no mind, Cerulean cautiously made her way to the ship; she had never seen one that was not gliding across the waters. She placed her hand on the wood as if to convince herself that it was really there. Then she knocked on the wood, a smile breaking across her face as she lifted her head up in amazement to gaze at the masterfully crafted vessel. Silently, she recounted the countless times she had swam along one of these, humming along to the chanteys she had grown to know by heart.
"I'll sing you a tale of the king of the sea,
And it's hey to the starboard, heave-ho,
The ruler of all the ocean is he
In mysterious fathoms below," she said aloud, laughing as she did so, thinking no one could hear.
((Well, here goes! I present to you, my mermaid!*jazz hands*)) Name: Cerulean (Caresse Sharman on land) Nickname: N/A Age: 18 Gender: Female Appearance: Cerulean has shoulder length wavy, white hair that usually looks messy. She is 5'7'' out of the water, but has rarely ever actually been on land; the silly humans and ugly landscapes having no appeal to her. She is very thin, but on land her legs are stick-ish and frail looking, knees knobby and weak looking because she has hardly used them at all, making it hard for her to actually walk anywhere on land, especially hills or slopes. She has narrow, electric blue eyes and tanned skin from basking in the sun on rocks. Her tail is unusually long and slender making her over six feet tall with it. The fins resemble those of a thresher shark, the top lobe much longer than the other with a standard dorsal fin along the back of it. All of her fins, including pelvic and secondary dorsal fin are black and resemble shark appendages. She used a black fishing net to clothe her torso and wears a bracelet made of pure gold that she found as she scavenged the floor of the ocean. Hair Color when in water: Cerulean Personality: Cerulean doesn't care much for humans as their lives seem very dull compared to hers. When ships pass by, she likes to mess with the sailors on the boat, splashing loudly or whacking the sides of the ship with her tail, causing unrest in the crew. Cerulean merely spends her days having fun and messing around. She isn't aware of all the bad things in the world like fear and weapons and paranoia. She considers herself carefree, but most might think of her as naive or oblivious. She also likes to think of herself as always right and has a fiery personality if you don't agree. Biography:Cerulean has spent most of her life in the sea, hardly ever wandering onto land. The earth just seemed so boring compared to everything that could be done in the ocean! She was raised by another mermaid named Azure who was now very old and stayed in a cavern near the bottom of the ocean. Cerulean was raised in that very cavern and she couldn't remember many instances where Azure went out of the cavern except for when she took Cerulean on land with her. Since Cerulean hadn't known how to walk, Azure had to carry her on her back. Cerulean couldn't remember much of the trip except when Azure carried her down the dirty streets, wrapped in itchy and cold clothes. She remembered the humans that were curled up on the cobblestone in dirty dresses and shirts. Most of them had dirt smeared across their sorrowful faces and some were even sick. Cerulean had curled up closer into Azure's back, frightened of these varied people who didn't smile and didn't laugh. Azure had wanted Cerulean to see what the world was like, how different it was from the water and the sudden change didn't make Cerulean mindful. It made her scared. She was eager to get back in the water with Azure and go back down to the cavern where she could scare the octopuses and slither with the eels and observe the bottom feeders. It was a few years before Cerulean was ready to go back on the surface and even then, it had been a brief visit. Eventually, Cerulean dared to leave the cavern, she wanted to explore and live her own life. Azure had been reluctant at first, but finally decided it would be healthy for her to come into contact with people, hoping that maybe Cerulean wanted to observe the humans. Instead, Cerulean swam to warmer, clearer waters and explored the world that appeared to her more. It was then that she had found out about the existence of ships. At first Cerulean had cowered from it, watching it pass by from behind a rock a safe distance away. However, she had seen people on it and they were singing! Laughing! They were loving life as much as she was and it was wonderful to know she wasn't the only one! Cerulean had determined that it was something the humans did to classify themselves. Cerulean figured that the sea made people happy and sad people went on the boats to enjoy living. Since she had left, Cerulean had covered a large amount of the southern waters, examining reefs and schools of fish and crabs and lobsters. Weapon:Cerulean found a gun, but she's not aware of what it is, as far as she knows, it's as harmless as the bracelet she had found. She carries it around simply to dig holes to observe the baby horseshoe crabs. Likes: Cerulean loves to observe everything under the water. She likes to watch how they act and loves to see how everything thy do makes sense for the rest of the community. Cerulean is also mainly concerned with exploring and having fun, she hardly takes anything seriously. Dislikes: Cerulean mainly dislikes when things are serious or dark, she tends to ignore the problem and move away from it, escaping to the water. Cerulean also hates the land, she hasn't been on it for years and for the few times she had gone, she didn't breathe a word to anyone so social norms are out of her grasp/ knowledge. Strengths: Cerulean has actually been watching the sea creatures for so long that she can predict the behavior of most of the ones she has studied and is aware of what they instinctively do. She knows the normal migration patterns that most fish often use as they travel with the seasons. She can use this to determine the movement of their predators as well so that she can stay out of the way of other dangerous fish that would try to attack her to keep her away from their prey. Weaknesses: She basically knows nothing about how humans act or speak or talk. Her avoidance of the land is so great, she has trouble determining where she actually is in the water sometimes. Sometimes, however, she will watch the people on ships, she watches how they dance and sing chanteys and tell jokes. The interactions between pirates or sailors is the extent of her information on humans. Other: Hope I fixed it okay!
((Hello! Welcome back, Drone! Well, I don't really care where this goes, but your new idea sounds very exciting and I support either decision. Unfortunately, Band Camp is starting next week for me which = 12 hours a day of marching. I won't have any time next week, but I'll be on this weekend and next Sunday unless I can get on before I have to leave. Just a heads up, thanks!))
It was dark, suffocatingly dark. Briar pushed out a hand, feeling for anything in the area. Her hand landed on a solid wall within arms length, she reached out her second hand feeling another wall about the same length away. The walls were close, she realized, too close. Briar looked down the hall, looking for any light, not even a pinpoint of white showed anywhere. Briar grimace, feeling the air getting thicker, panic gripped her heart. It was too small, too dark, there was no sunlight or air. Briar desperately pounded against the walls, breathing harder. She wrenched her eyes closed, the color of the world remaining the same color. She felt a ringing in her ears and it gradually grew louder as she attempted to break free. Her shouts got caught in her throat. She fell to her knees and bolted awake.
She was breathing hard and had sweat plastered to her face. She slowly calmed herself down and looked out the window, the sun was high in the sky. It was around lunchtime and Briar was starving. She pushed off the blanket and got up, shaking off the nightmare. Nothing made Briar more uncomfortable than small spaces. She took a deep breath and smoothed her short hair. She quietly walked down the stairs in the house and stood at the bottom, looking around. What was she supposed to do now? The centaur was nowhere to be seen. Briar sighed, she was just happy to be in a safer place.
((Sorry guys, I'm in a place with bad connection and no wifi, so I'm not going to be really active. I'll still do my best to post. Thanks!))
Briar walked upstairs and looked into the room Chiron was letting her stay in. It was simple and kinnice, actually. She silently, walked over to a dresser in the corner of the room. She slowly opened the middle drawer. It full of bright orange shirts that had "Camp Half-Blood" printed across the front. Briar, sighed and smiled, she was in the right place after all. She checked a couple tags and pulled out an adult medium. Finding a pair of nearly identical cargo shorts in her size, Briar stepped into the bathroom, locking the door. She then took a shower, scrubbing the mud off of her body. When she was done she stepped out, dried off and dressed herself. She glanced in the mirror, shocked, it had been so long she had kind of assumed she was dirt-colored. She walked out, her sopping clothes in her arms. Briar noticed a trash bin in the room tossed her wet clothes in without a second look before killing the lights and immediately falling asleep on the bed.
"I don't care when she got here..." He sighed, calming down a bit. He put a hand on his forehead. "Fine. These two can stay here." He gestured to the girl on his couch, and the boy in the door way. "You go back to your cabin and sleep." He tried a smile. "Like I was..." He muttered to himself. He gestured to the two new demigods. "Come along. You can shower, sleep, and we can all talk in the morning." He tried his best to be kind, as his appearance was usually unerving to most new campers.
Briar had thought she'd seen weird. Lots of weird; her old family friend turned into a dragon lady right before her eyes! Then a centaur walked in wearing onesy pajamas and Briar felt as if her heart had stopped from shock. Speechless, she watched as Ivory had a conversation with him, calmly, like it was completely normal to be talking to this mythological creature. Briar's brain had a little trouble processing that after the events of the past week and a half. Ivory left, and the centaur seemed to calm down a little bit. At the possibility of a hot shower, Briar stood up, trying to leave as little mud as possible as it appeared to bother the man... centaur-thing.
"Er, thank you, sir," Briar said, softly, trying her best not to stare.
Briar gladly wrapped up in the blanket the girl, Ivory had given her. She shivered once more before pulling her knees up to her chest. She looked up at Ivory silently. Why did she want to know her parent? Briar cleared her throat, trying to look a little stronger.
"My name is Briar, and my parent is er... Xavier?" she answered, giving Ivory her dad's name. From the way Ivory had said the name, Briar assumed that Chiron was the one in charge in this place. When Ivory asked if Briar was hungry, she hesitated, before nodding slowly.
"I am a little hungry, yes," Briar answered, trying not to sound needy.
The girl stared at Briar for a second before giving Briar assistance. Briar almost collapsed with gratitude, and she clung onto the girls clothes. She heard the girl call out to a boy on the porch as well, Briar wondered how she had missed noticing him. The girl led her into the house and Briar inhaled, feeling an imaginary weight lift off her shoulders. At least this girl was going to help her, and although the thought of needing assistance made Briar feel like a burden, she was grateful for the girl. The girl lowered her onto a couch and Briar's muscles relaxed. Even though she was in a place she had never been with a girl she had only just met in a house she had never seen before, Briar was utterly at peace to be in a place where she seemed to be, at least for now, safe. Tears of relief sprang into her eyes and spilled over, but one could merely think it was still water from the rain.
Ivory raises her eyebrow as she approaches the figure that now definitely seems to be a person. Glancing at where the girl seemed to be looking, ivory shrugs not seeing anything. "Hey, are you okay? I mean, are young good? Not hurt or anything? Don't need a stupid bandage before you go see Chiron, do you?" Ivory asks sheathing her knife as she continues towards this girl that seemed more worried than frightened. She had short brown hair, but ivory couldn't see the eyes. Something about the girl made ivory know she was a half blood. It might have been that she could see camp, and come in camp, but there seemed something softly different about this girl that gave her away.
Briar jumped as a girl's voice met her. She whirled, pushing her self to her feet, arms shaking with exhaustion. Briar realized that her entire body was trembling as she had gotten to her feet. The girl however, sounded kind, concerned. Briar tried to focus on her form, but her vision swam and she leaned against the siding of the house, trying to act nonchalant. The girl asked if she was alright and Briar struggled to answer, but a sort of dumb-sounding squeak escaped her lips. Upset about being so weak, Briar shook her head and swallowed.
"I'm fine. I just... need a place to rest? If you could help maybe?" she asked slowly. Just asking this girl for help made Briar feel as if she had crossed a line and her face flushed.
Ivory, sighing, stands as she moves to leave the amphitheater. Heading towards the big house, something caught her eye on the hill. Was that a person or monster? She couldn't tell, so frowning, she draws one knife and keeping it hidden in case it was a person, approaches the shadow, ready for a fight, but also to greet someone, not warmly of course, to the camp shed been calling home for what feels like her entire life by now.
Briar shivered as a droplet of water dripped off her nose. She was freezing and she was hugging herself for warmth, but unfortunately, it wasn't really working. Suddenly, she heard a slight shuffling along the side of the house. She froze, terrified, what if was another monster? She didn't have a weapon. She didn't have anything. She swallowed hard and let go of her arms cautiously.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" she stammered. There was probably nothing there, after all, the sound was so slight, it was probably just her imagination. Briar relaxed slightly, leaning her head back against the siding.
Briar slipped in the mud sliding down the hill. A sudden cloudburst had come out of nowhere and it did not make her feel anymore comfortable. She was in a foreign environment, hell, she wasn't even sure if this was the right place. She didn't have anymore money for a train ticket. She barely had enough for a meal at Chick-fil-a. That's down right desperate, she thought. She stumbled to her feet and wrapped her arms around her shivering frame. While she trudged up the remainder of the hill, her shoes squelching in the soft soil, she was determined to think positive thoughts. Although, her exhausted mind wasn't really in the mood, Briar was starting to feel a little brighter, and she picked up her pace, finally leaning against the pine tree as if she had just climbed Everest. Pushing sopping hair out of her eyes, she positioned her feet and slid down the hill, splattering mud all over her legs. It didn't matter, her cargo shorts were covered just the same and her hair, face, and shirt wasn't much different. She lifted up her head to look at the terrain ahead. Her heart soared, cabins, at least a dozen of them dotted the land ahead. That probably meant beds and food somewhere. The very thought got her salivating. Although... now that she was here, where now? She didn't see anybody anywhere. Crap! This was the place wasn't it? Panic gripped Briar's heart and she looked over to the side, noticing a very large house. Sure it was a nice house, but all Briar cared about was the porch. At least it was shelter from the rain.
Normally, the rain made her very happy. She felt as if the Earth was just recharging it's batteries and she felt it smelled like life. However, she had been travelling for days, she was exhausted mentally and physically, and didn't really want to focus on any other living thing than a human. Preferably a helpful human. Briar sat down under the porch, next to one of the chairs. Her hands left muddy prints and she dripped onto the wood. Now this isn't too bad, Briar thought hopefully. It can only get better from here...
0
Lena bit her bottom lip with excitement as she clenched her pistols in her swinging arms. What a sight they must make; their ship looking dirtier than an unkempt brig. Barnacles clung lovingly to the sides of the once varnished wood, kelp hung from ropes as if it were growing on it. A quick gust of wind ruffled her hair to the side, giving her a clear view of the enemy. Eyes narrowing, she slowly pulled the hammer back on the gun in her right hand, feeling the satisfying click under her fingertips. Of course, this mission was going to be a bit different from others, instead of going for gold and valuables, they were going for a much larger treasure. Lena looked down at her arms, resting her neck for a second and watching Mulgrew, her tan arms dotted with smears of gunpowder that shimmered silver in the morning sun. It was going to be a good day...
"On your command, Captain," Lena murmured down to him, practically twitching with anticipation.
0
Name: Lena Arwen Searlait
Nickname: N/A
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Which Crew? Mulgrew
Appearance: Lena has sleek, black hair that ends at her jawline and lies very flat. Her venom green eyes peek out from under her dark hair, narrowed and dangerous. Even though she doesn’t always show it, she has real strength under her fingers. She wears a short, black jacket that ends just under her rib cage, the sleeves cut off. She has very tanned skin, part of it ethnicity, part of it being out in the sun all day. She has a vermillion and black sea serpent tattoo that wraps its way up from her right wrist to the top of her bicep. The tips of her fingers have a pinkish tint as she usually ignores it if her gun is burning up from the heat the gun powder generates, often singing her fingertips.
Personality: Lena doesn’t understand the concept of “mercy” or “compassion” and has hardly ever been on the receiving end of such emotions with her cold, shut out cover. She’s quick to point fingers and drag others down. She’ll hardly ever take the blame for something without taking at least three others down with her, pulling them down into the abyss. Trust is something she also doesn’t have the best experience with, but she admires Mulgrew to a great extent and is the one person she would die for if he asked. Of course, most of the time, she would never reveal such a private emotion and prefers the company of her pistols and the ocean. Sarcasm and verbal poison come naturally to her and like some snakes, she can spit some pretty awful things. At times however, she will be a little friendly and endearing, but she likes to keep those emotions for those she can trust.
Biography: Lena was a dirty orphan brought up on the streets stealing and snarling lies. She worked with other younger boys to get food and supplies, often letting them be caught while she could get away, using them to boost herself up. Lena never thought she would be found out or would have to pay for the things she had done until she was caught at the dock at age eleven by a shopkeeper who didn’t buy the story that her “brother” was just hit by a carriage and that she needed to come quick. Instead, the woman had invited her inside to have something to eat, but actually locked Lena in the upstairs room with a desk, some papers, and a tiny window while the old shopkeeper had gone to fetch the guards. Lena was betrayed and thus, died her trust in anyone. Lena caught onto what was going on and ransacked the room she was trapped in, finding a pistol in the top left drawer of the wooden desk. By this time, she was hearing heavy footsteps rushing up the stairs and the old woman swung open the door to see an empty room. Confused and frantic, the woman started to rush around the room before the crack of a gun rang out through the room. The woman collapsed to the ground, blood pouring out of her left shoulder, right above her heart. This was Lena’s first experience with a gun and it was exhilarating. Dangerous, but exhilarating. From there, Lena had squeezed her way out of the tiny window onto the shingled roof as one of the guards checked the shopkeeper and the other one had to rush down the stairs and out of the house to catch up to the girl nervously jumping from roof to roof. Eventually, she jumped down from the roof, rolling off a flimsy awning onto the dirt. She jumped up, dashing towards the dock and ran up the ramp of one of the ships as men loaded cargo onto it. What she didn’t know was that the men were pirates, ready to set sail.
Here, starts Lena’s life as a pirate. She was caught soon after she came aboard, immediately brought to the captain. The captain, a man who never became very famous and was odd in the eyes of Lena, assigned her the role of Powder Monkey. The true irony of it all was hilarious in a sick kind of way; Lena had used the young boys to not get caught and feed herself, but now these pirates were going to use her to commit crimes that she could be hung for so that they could leave her. Even though she was expendable, the crew never put her up to anything she couldn’t dash out of. Much to her surprise, the life of a pirate was more appealing to her than she had originally thought. A couple of the crew members even taught her how to use her pistol properly, but it took her ages considering she was still young and not very strong. Then, one day, after she had turned eighteen, something unimaginable happened: the captain had been killed in battle. From there, the crew fell apart; arguing over spoils of his belongings and his role. Lena had decided to leave the crew, dropping herself off alone at one of the ports. Eventually, she made it to Mulgrew’s ship, once again, starting at the bottom as one of the sail makers, tying together nets to create hammocks and traps. It wasn’t the same as the other crew, but she was on the sea and pillaging so she couldn’t have been happier. She remained at that position for over two years, jumping to the role of a Cooper for a time (a barrel maker) until her love for firearms became evident as her skill started to grow. Mulgrew finally promoted Lena to Master Gunner and presented her with an extra gun, identical to the one she’d been carrying around.
“It’s always better to have more fire power than your enemies,” he’d told her and from that day she held a silent respect for him, always taking his side in arguments or issues.
Weapons: Lena carries twin pistols with her and a large bag of ammunition, packets of gunpowder shoved in her pockets constantly. She also hides a tiny, unloaded, single-shot gun in the seams of her jacket if she ever gets in a sticky situation.
Likes: The smell of gunpowder and the sea. She enjoys the adventure at sea and constantly anticipates the next battle or murder. Pillaging is a favorite because she feels she can savor the anxiety and fear in the air. She has a certain love of fire, not evolved enough to be considered a pyromaniac, but she does commit the occasional arson and enjoys watching the flames, a brooding smile on her lips. Lena likes to feel powerful because if she has no control in a situation, she tends to shut others out, sometimes making rash decisions, she feels that have a little too much power is a lifetime better than feel powerless.
Dislikes: Cowards leave a bad taste in her mouth and will kill them over petty things if she gets the chance, feeling that they aren’t worthy of human life, that pond scum has more purpose than them. She is also not one to drink alcohol and believes it simply gives enemies the opportunity to attack (she’s quite often paranoid). The Navy, while pirates like themselves should probably fear them, for Lena she just harbors a burning annoyance for the association and becomes very uncooperative in their presence, even if they try to make a deal with her.
Strengths: She is fiercely loyal of Mulgrew and will bite back with all of her strength to keep his journey simple and to the point. Lena has moments of resourcefulness, using her surroundings to get out of tight spots. When it comes to working under Mulgrew, Lena sometimes seems to forget that she is simply a human held back by her own body and simply the laws of life. Meaning, she can get shot straight in the arm, but if she is carrying something out for Mulgrew, she can activate the adrenaline almost willfully to carry it out before assessing her own injuries. Of course, this isn’t for all of the time and if she is stalled enough, the adrenaline will wear off and her injuries will become apparent and will become a bit more of a liability because she’s not used to fighting with pain (so kind of a strength and a weakness).
Weaknesses: She hardly ever practices sword fighting so she’s quite miserable with a blade and close-combat. At this time in history it takes a while to reload pistols such as these so at times it’s inconvenient if you’re currently in the middle of a battle. She has stiff trust issues with nearly anyone but Mulgrew, with whom she has a quiet admiration for which can sometimes come off as being rude or ignorant.
Job on ship: Lena had started off as a Powder Monkey (a young worker that usually went unpaid and was expendable) until she had proven herself a worthy Master Gunner as pistols are her passion.
Other:
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"How do you know that song?" he asked amicably enough. Cerulean just stupidly stared up at him, her body leaning back towards the sea, but she did shrug.
"Uh," she started hastily, "Just... from my father." The answer had slipped out by accident, but it had sounded probable enough. Truthfully, she was surprised she had responded at all; her tongue felt like it had swollen and despite how warm a night it was, Cerulean felt as if she had been dunked in ice water. With balled fists and a body tensed up in anxiety, Cerulean looked up at the man who seemed much more relaxed than her.
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"Where is it?" she asked herself as she looked up, into the shadowy waters. She could feel the tide rolling over her back as she searched for the creature that led her this way. Quickly, Cerulean lifted her head out of the water, attempting to see as much of the sand as possible before a splotch of green caught her eye. A grin split across her face as she darted closer to the shallow water, less than a foot away from a sea turtle. Cerulean had been following the turtle for at least a couple hours, curious on where it thought it was going. All she knew right now was that the turtle was getting closer and closer to the land, the two of them barely skimming under the surface. Cerulean had never seen a turtle act quite so strangely. Finally, the turtle had ambled it's way so far up onto the sand it had to start crawling. At this point, Cerulean hesitated and looked up at the earth, hair dripping with sea water. She saw what looked like a city growing out of the side of a hill. Little houses and cottages dotted the side of it, some spilling out warm, golden light while others sat dilapidated and shadowy. She saw that the sand ended a few feet ahead, giving away to stone, but the turtle continued on quietly.
Not far off to the side, Cerulean saw a large ship docked in the port, but it seemed as if no one was aboard. Satisfied with no one in sight, Cerulean somewhat reluctantly crawled out of the water to follow the creature and its instinct. As Cerulean army crawled out of the water and onto the tiny area of beach, a weakness spread it's way down the length of her tail. After a second of awkward fidgeting, Cerulean felt her legs slip apart. She flipped onto her back and sat up, moving the thin, gossamer-like skirt that had formed up to her knees, staring glumly at the thin and malnourished looking twigs that lay where her tail should have. Cerulean looked over her shoulder at the turtle and saw it slowly and almost mindlessly starting to dig a hole in the sand. She turned back to her legs and took a deep breath.
"Just for a second. No one is here," she murmured and struggled to stand on legs that looked as if they would break any moment. Slowly, she found her point of balance and turned to watch the turtle that continued to dig. She looked over to her left, the hulking ship casting a shadow on her as it blocked out the moon. Glancing back at the turtle who once again, paid her no mind, Cerulean cautiously made her way to the ship; she had never seen one that was not gliding across the waters. She placed her hand on the wood as if to convince herself that it was really there. Then she knocked on the wood, a smile breaking across her face as she lifted her head up in amazement to gaze at the masterfully crafted vessel. Silently, she recounted the countless times she had swam along one of these, humming along to the chanteys she had grown to know by heart.
"I'll sing you a tale of the king of the sea,
And it's hey to the starboard, heave-ho,
The ruler of all the ocean is he
In mysterious fathoms below," she said aloud, laughing as she did so, thinking no one could hear.
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Name: Cerulean (Caresse Sharman on land)
Nickname: N/A
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: Cerulean has shoulder length wavy, white hair that usually looks messy. She is 5'7'' out of the water, but has rarely ever actually been on land; the silly humans and ugly landscapes having no appeal to her. She is very thin, but on land her legs are stick-ish and frail looking, knees knobby and weak looking because she has hardly used them at all, making it hard for her to actually walk anywhere on land, especially hills or slopes. She has narrow, electric blue eyes and tanned skin from basking in the sun on rocks. Her tail is unusually long and slender making her over six feet tall with it. The fins resemble those of a thresher shark, the top lobe much longer than the other with a standard dorsal fin along the back of it. All of her fins, including pelvic and secondary dorsal fin are black and resemble shark appendages. She used a black fishing net to clothe her torso and wears a bracelet made of pure gold that she found as she scavenged the floor of the ocean.
Hair Color when in water: Cerulean
Personality: Cerulean doesn't care much for humans as their lives seem very dull compared to hers. When ships pass by, she likes to mess with the sailors on the boat, splashing loudly or whacking the sides of the ship with her tail, causing unrest in the crew. Cerulean merely spends her days having fun and messing around. She isn't aware of all the bad things in the world like fear and weapons and paranoia. She considers herself carefree, but most might think of her as naive or oblivious. She also likes to think of herself as always right and has a fiery personality if you don't agree.
Biography:Cerulean has spent most of her life in the sea, hardly ever wandering onto land. The earth just seemed so boring compared to everything that could be done in the ocean! She was raised by another mermaid named Azure who was now very old and stayed in a cavern near the bottom of the ocean. Cerulean was raised in that very cavern and she couldn't remember many instances where Azure went out of the cavern except for when she took Cerulean on land with her. Since Cerulean hadn't known how to walk, Azure had to carry her on her back. Cerulean couldn't remember much of the trip except when Azure carried her down the dirty streets, wrapped in itchy and cold clothes. She remembered the humans that were curled up on the cobblestone in dirty dresses and shirts. Most of them had dirt smeared across their sorrowful faces and some were even sick. Cerulean had curled up closer into Azure's back, frightened of these varied people who didn't smile and didn't laugh. Azure had wanted Cerulean to see what the world was like, how different it was from the water and the sudden change didn't make Cerulean mindful. It made her scared. She was eager to get back in the water with Azure and go back down to the cavern where she could scare the octopuses and slither with the eels and observe the bottom feeders. It was a few years before Cerulean was ready to go back on the surface and even then, it had been a brief visit.
Eventually, Cerulean dared to leave the cavern, she wanted to explore and live her own life. Azure had been reluctant at first, but finally decided it would be healthy for her to come into contact with people, hoping that maybe Cerulean wanted to observe the humans. Instead, Cerulean swam to warmer, clearer waters and explored the world that appeared to her more. It was then that she had found out about the existence of ships. At first Cerulean had cowered from it, watching it pass by from behind a rock a safe distance away. However, she had seen people on it and they were singing! Laughing! They were loving life as much as she was and it was wonderful to know she wasn't the only one! Cerulean had determined that it was something the humans did to classify themselves. Cerulean figured that the sea made people happy and sad people went on the boats to enjoy living. Since she had left, Cerulean had covered a large amount of the southern waters, examining reefs and schools of fish and crabs and lobsters.
Weapon:Cerulean found a gun, but she's not aware of what it is, as far as she knows, it's as harmless as the bracelet she had found. She carries it around simply to dig holes to observe the baby horseshoe crabs.
Likes: Cerulean loves to observe everything under the water. She likes to watch how they act and loves to see how everything thy do makes sense for the rest of the community. Cerulean is also mainly concerned with exploring and having fun, she hardly takes anything seriously.
Dislikes: Cerulean mainly dislikes when things are serious or dark, she tends to ignore the problem and move away from it, escaping to the water. Cerulean also hates the land, she hasn't been on it for years and for the few times she had gone, she didn't breathe a word to anyone so social norms are out of her grasp/ knowledge.
Strengths: Cerulean has actually been watching the sea creatures for so long that she can predict the behavior of most of the ones she has studied and is aware of what they instinctively do. She knows the normal migration patterns that most fish often use as they travel with the seasons. She can use this to determine the movement of their predators as well so that she can stay out of the way of other dangerous fish that would try to attack her to keep her away from their prey.
Weaknesses: She basically knows nothing about how humans act or speak or talk. Her avoidance of the land is so great, she has trouble determining where she actually is in the water sometimes. Sometimes, however, she will watch the people on ships, she watches how they dance and sing chanteys and tell jokes. The interactions between pirates or sailors is the extent of her information on humans.
Other: Hope I fixed it okay!
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She was breathing hard and had sweat plastered to her face. She slowly calmed herself down and looked out the window, the sun was high in the sky. It was around lunchtime and Briar was starving. She pushed off the blanket and got up, shaking off the nightmare. Nothing made Briar more uncomfortable than small spaces. She took a deep breath and smoothed her short hair. She quietly walked down the stairs in the house and stood at the bottom, looking around. What was she supposed to do now? The centaur was nowhere to be seen. Briar sighed, she was just happy to be in a safer place.
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Briar walked upstairs and looked into the room Chiron was letting her stay in. It was simple and kinnice, actually. She silently, walked over to a dresser in the corner of the room. She slowly opened the middle drawer. It full of bright orange shirts that had "Camp Half-Blood" printed across the front. Briar, sighed and smiled, she was in the right place after all. She checked a couple tags and pulled out an adult medium. Finding a pair of nearly identical cargo shorts in her size, Briar stepped into the bathroom, locking the door. She then took a shower, scrubbing the mud off of her body. When she was done she stepped out, dried off and dressed herself. She glanced in the mirror, shocked, it had been so long she had kind of assumed she was dirt-colored. She walked out, her sopping clothes in her arms. Briar noticed a trash bin in the room tossed her wet clothes in without a second look before killing the lights and immediately falling asleep on the bed.
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Briar had thought she'd seen weird. Lots of weird; her old family friend turned into a dragon lady right before her eyes! Then a centaur walked in wearing onesy pajamas and Briar felt as if her heart had stopped from shock. Speechless, she watched as Ivory had a conversation with him, calmly, like it was completely normal to be talking to this mythological creature. Briar's brain had a little trouble processing that after the events of the past week and a half. Ivory left, and the centaur seemed to calm down a little bit. At the possibility of a hot shower, Briar stood up, trying to leave as little mud as possible as it appeared to bother the man... centaur-thing.
"Er, thank you, sir," Briar said, softly, trying her best not to stare.
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"My name is Briar, and my parent is er... Xavier?" she answered, giving Ivory her dad's name. From the way Ivory had said the name, Briar assumed that Chiron was the one in charge in this place. When Ivory asked if Briar was hungry, she hesitated, before nodding slowly.
"I am a little hungry, yes," Briar answered, trying not to sound needy.
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Briar jumped as a girl's voice met her. She whirled, pushing her self to her feet, arms shaking with exhaustion. Briar realized that her entire body was trembling as she had gotten to her feet. The girl however, sounded kind, concerned. Briar tried to focus on her form, but her vision swam and she leaned against the siding of the house, trying to act nonchalant. The girl asked if she was alright and Briar struggled to answer, but a sort of dumb-sounding squeak escaped her lips. Upset about being so weak, Briar shook her head and swallowed.
"I'm fine. I just... need a place to rest? If you could help maybe?" she asked slowly. Just asking this girl for help made Briar feel as if she had crossed a line and her face flushed.
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Briar shivered as a droplet of water dripped off her nose. She was freezing and she was hugging herself for warmth, but unfortunately, it wasn't really working. Suddenly, she heard a slight shuffling along the side of the house. She froze, terrified, what if was another monster? She didn't have a weapon. She didn't have anything. She swallowed hard and let go of her arms cautiously.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" she stammered. There was probably nothing there, after all, the sound was so slight, it was probably just her imagination. Briar relaxed slightly, leaning her head back against the siding.
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Normally, the rain made her very happy. She felt as if the Earth was just recharging it's batteries and she felt it smelled like life. However, she had been travelling for days, she was exhausted mentally and physically, and didn't really want to focus on any other living thing than a human. Preferably a helpful human. Briar sat down under the porch, next to one of the chairs. Her hands left muddy prints and she dripped onto the wood. Now this isn't too bad, Briar thought hopefully. It can only get better from here...