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 Posted: Tue Jan 29, 2013 1:45 pm
The camp's archery fields are usually only used by descendants of Apollo, as it is frowned upon by the legion for those other than children of the archery god to use a bow and arrow in combat. It is located near the field of Mars and is typically a good place to avoid jogging through unless you'd like to be used as a target for some of the more indifferent archers. Free targets are always set up here, so feel free to let loose a shot or two!
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Posted: Mon Jun 17, 2013 5:20 pm
  
Every so often, Cedric wondered just how insane he was. He knew he was crazy – it was hard not be after everything he’d been through – but he occasionally questioned just how far gone he really was. Not enough to be put into some asylum where he would never be heard from again probably, but you had to be a special kind of mad to smile when your employer called you “a hopeless waste of the human evolutionary process” in writing.
The son of Venus chuckled as he folded up the letter in his hands, storing it carefully in the inside pocket of his jacket where two others were already there. He’d found the letters on his bedside table that morning, but because he was Centurion of his cohort, had only just now had time to be able to read them. He didn’t really understand how Amadeus made for them to conveniently show up wherever he was, whether it was in his barrack or in the mess hall, but he’d long ago decided to stop questioning phenomenon like that. He’d go even more insane if he tried. The Italian man hummed softly to himself as he slid his hands in his pockets as he walked, his mind bringing back the news in his siblings’ letters; by roll call that day, he would have the contents of all three memorized, the norm for him. Cedric treasured his family and his boss more than he was sure they were aware, and just like he had when he’d originally been sent to Camp Jupiter, he was counting down the days when he could return to Ireland and see them all again.
As he approached the archery fields, a few of the campers already practicing there – all descendants of Apollo – gave him dirty looks for even daring to try his hand at the sun god’s primary sport, again. Cedric looked up at the teenager closest to him and shot her a grin that could make grown women swoon. She paused, staring at him in shock for a moment before she flushed and sheepishly looked away. He had to admit, sometimes he really hated the Romans – not the Romans of way back when, but rather the obnoxious twenty first century substitutes. The entire society had become one judgmental, superstitious p***k, like a little kid that needed to be put back in their place or something. So what if he liked to practice archery? So what if he was actually good at it? Cedric didn’t understand why they couldn’t mind their own business, and it wasn’t the first time he was tempted to use some of the kids as target practice to show them that you didn’t need to be related to the god of something to excel at it.
The Centurion eventually stopped when he’d reached the area behind the archery fields, where the targets were still in view but no one had bothered trying to shoot from. For him, shooting targets from this range would be cakewalk; after all, of all areas of combat, he was especially skilled in long range. Besides, one did not become the number one assassin in the world if they couldn’t hit targets from far away. Cedric let the backpack he was carrying slip from his shoulder and fall to the ground, deciding to set up shop in that particular spot, so to speak. He got even more strange looks for carrying around a backpack with him constantly when he could just keep his belongings in his barrack, but he’d learned to become paranoid after working for the King of Distrust. He didn’t want anyone to get to his laptop or any of the more unorthodox weapons he had, and he didn’t trust some of the people in his cohort not to go snooping. Thus, he carried a backpack wherever he went.
The Italian tapped the earring in his left ear twice, and suddenly he felt it melt from its place on his earlobe. Simultaneously, he felt a sort of aura near his back and in his hand before it solidified into a quiver of arrows and a bow, respectively. The demigod smiled; he hadn’t touched a bow in ages before he’d come back to camp and it felt nice to have the familiar weapon back in his arsenal. Cedric stood back a few feet further, aiming his arrow briefly before allowing it to fly towards a target little more than seventy yards away. It had hit the center of the bull’s eye precisely. However, Cedric didn’t spend long admiring the accomplishment like many others might have; he simply studied it for a moment to ensure that he was on target and reloaded, stepping back another couple feet and releasing another arrow. This one sliced the previous projectile in half. The demigod merely yawned boredly in response. “Man, what I’d give to be back home right now,” he murmured to himself as he slipped a third arrow from the quiver on his back.
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Posted: Fri Jul 05, 2013 10:44 am
 I AM CONVINCED THAT WE SHOULD BE FRIENDSxxwe compare our ❤ノ xx to things that fly ↗↗xxxxxxxxxxxxxBUT CANNOT LAND ↘↘xplease don't put your xf a c e ◆ into your xh a n d s ↓↓xxxxxxxxxxxxwe could ✶ be friendsNathaniel Hart couldn’t say he was getting any more used to Camp Jupiter. For the past two years he had called the Roman camp home. Although, his heart still remained in his father’s flower shop, his grandfather had pushed him to meet Lupa and attend the Roman camp. Throughout the time he’d been there, Nathaniel spent most of his time in the background. He hadn’t come with a letter of recommendation, so he was placed in the fifth cohort. He didn’t particularly mind being in the fifth cohort, most of the campers there were quite nice, the only downside was the placement of their barracks. Instead of being with all of the other campers, they were placed in possibly the worst location in camp, next to the stables and compost heap. Since he was a gardener, he loved using compost, but living next to a large some of it, and dealing with the stables as well weren’t the greatest of times. Besides, his flowers hated the air as well, and he often had to move them away from the barracks so they could enjoy their time alive, while he was unable to enjoy their life with them.
Most of his free time was spent taking care of the flowers that he was bringing up, and ensuring that they were happy with their living situation. However, as a Roman legacy and demigod, he knew that more was expected from him. Inside of the borders of camp, they spent most of their time training for a war that might come, or a quest that might fall into their hands. He would be able to lead a quest, if there ever came one, but there weren’t many people who he figured would want him to be the head of a quest. Even though he was a centurion, he was still a member of the fifth cohort, and was mainly named centurion because he stood up for the campers that shared the space with him, and wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, for the most part. He couldn’t see why others thought they were so above the fifth cohort, sure they weren’t from families that had done a great deed, but that didn’t mean they weren’t valuable in their own way. Besides, Nathaniel thought that some of the members of the first and second cohorts weren’t all that great either.
An alarm clock began to ring next to his bed, and he let out a great sigh. He didn’t have trouble getting up in the morning, so he never used his alarm for that. It was the fact that he would rather hide away in his barrack all day, even with the terrible smell. He was expected to train alongside all of the other demigods and legacies at the camp, and the alarm was set to remind him that he had to get up and do something that day. Finding his bow and quiver of arrows on the bedside where they usually were, he placed the quiver on his back and headed for the archery field. It was yet another place inside of camp that he was looked down upon in. Even though it was known that children and legacies of Cupid were skilled with the bow and arrow, it was seen as only correct for children of Apollo to use the weapon in battle. Because of that fact, Nathaniel had tried different weapons, but the only one that didn’t fall out of his hand instantly was the bow and arrow. In the end, he decided to take the sideway glances and train with the weapon he felt most comfortable with.
Making his way to the archery field, he could see that there were plenty of Apollo campers there, as usual. When he walked onto the ground, they gave him the same look as usual when he made an appearance there. He did his best to ignore them, and was getting rather good at it after two years of their glares. Lifting his bow and pulling out an arrow from his quiver, he took aim and shot his first arrow of the day. As expected, it didn’t land in the center. Some of the Apollo campers snickered and pointed. He was used to it, he didn’t train as often as they did, mainly because he didn’t want to. However, his abilities were rather lacking because of it, he had to warm up every day before he was able to consistently hit the bull’s-eye and then move onto moving targets.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an arrow hit straight in the center of a target to the right of him, splitting the first arrow in the center in half. The Apollo campers’ smirks were wiped off their faces, as he glanced around to see where that had come from. He figured it wasn’t one of their half siblings. It seemed as though the different cohort Apollo children were always challenging each other to matches of who could land more dead on center out of however many. Whoever shot that arrow was someone they didn’t want to see around the archery field, perhaps more than they hated seeing Nathaniel there. Glancing around, his eyes finally landed on Cedric del Favero, a son of Venus, and member of the second cohort. Nathaniel had seen him around, but they never talked to each other, they were both centurions, but for the most part the son of Proserpina kept his mouth shut during those meetings. It seemed as though there was only one thing that he had in common with Cedric, which was also something that made them outcasts in the camp.
“Nice aim,” Nathaniel called out, not that the other male needed to know that. It was pretty obvious to everyone around that his arrow had landed perfectly, and that he didn’t need a member of the fifth cohort to tell them that. The Apollo children had now turned their backs on Nathaniel and Cedric, not wanting to embarrass themselves was Nathaniel’s guess for their lack of interest all of the sudden. “I’m Nathaniel Hart, ah, legacy of Cupid and son of Proserpina. I’m in the fifth cohort.” Now he felt like he was babbling, but he figured that the other male didn’t know who he was. Not that he particularly cared to know either, but Nathaniel thought it only proper to introduce himself, even if the male was to forget his name instantly. “You must train a lot, I mean, to get so good. I’m not great with my bow and arrows, but hey it’s better than dropping a sword every ten seconds like I used to.” He tried to laugh off the awkward air, and thought about going back to what he was doing. Lifting his bow, he realized that he was now standing next to someone that could easily hit the target, and he could barely manage to place the arrow on the outer rim, perhaps it was time for him to take a break from training for the day, or at least wait until Cedric was finished, and all he would have to deal with were the glares of the Apollo children.
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