Alright then, reserve me pleez. This RP's very popular, couldn't pass up the chance to be a part of it.
Name: Jason 'Wym' Weaver
Height: 6 ft
Weight: 150 lbs
Location: USA, San Diego
Atlantean Tattoo: An assortment of spirals with spikes emerging from them. (See picture) Located on the back of Wym's hand.
Picture for reference:
I'm basically your average grease monkey. I'm black, that much should be obvious, and I have grey, greasy hair that I keep in a messy state. I have green, piercing eyes, a gift from my mom, and thick, parted, gray eyebrows. I was born with grey hair, I didn't dye it. That would be emo. My mom always told me it was because I was 'born asleep' but of course there's a scientific explanation for it. Anyway, in addition to this, I always, I repeat, always, keep a nice little stubble shave under my chin, which strangely enough, grows black instead of grey. Although I think I prefer it that way. My build is fairly muscled, just right for the mechanic line of work. I can lift anything that needs liftin', my hands are just the right size to squeeze through those annoying gaps in cars, and it makes me pretty sturdy. Now, sure, I can withstand hits from almost anybody, but that doesn't mean I like to fight, man. I prefer to keep it cool. Anyway, I work out every day, to keep myself in shape, of course. If I lost my muscle, it would mean that I loose my cool. And if I lose my cool, I can't do nothin'. Although the one problem is, I should be doing my studies while I'm workin' out, yeah, that sucks. But I'd choose brawn over brains any day. I weigh about 150 lbs, give or take a pound, and I'm 6 foot high. Which is impressive considering my ancestry. Sure, I'm not very fast, and I tire very easily when I run, but I'm pretty sure my awesome sturdiness covers that.
I wear two outfits, depending on where I am. I wear my work uniform, which is covered in grease, at work (duh) and my casual outfit just about anywhere else. At work, I wear an orange baseball cap with a my work's logo 'Donaldson Repairs' marked all over it. I wear a matching T-Shirt with that, which is covered in my sweat, and oil markings. It truly stinks. Like the cap, it's also orange and has the same logo on it. It sucks, but our boss Donald Donaldson (I know, so cliche) is very strict. I know what you're thinking, no, I do not wear a matching pair of pants. I just wear regular jeans, they're mine, and not work's. We can bring whatever legwear we like. These jeans I usually keep for work, because like the shirt, they're sweaty and covered in oil marks. That's all from working on cars. Yup. Oh yeah, I almost forgot my trusty tool belt, which has any and all tools I need on it. It's actually pretty high quality, since we're required to bring our own tool belts, I got mine from my dad, who also works at Donaldson's.
As for my regular outfit, I wear a black-and-green jacket. The top half is black, and the bottom half is green, a close match to my eyes. The jacket has a zipper, and two pockets along the bottom half, which are lined with black. Apparently it was a designer jacket, last on sale. My friend Marty got it for my birthday, very nice. Under my jacket, I wear my prized family necklace. An heirloom passed from generation to generation of Weavers. Given to each one when they turn eighteen. Frankly, I don't buy that a single necklace could have survived that long, probably been replaced with lookalikes many times, but I still love it, it reminds me of home. It's shaped like...actually, I'm not sure what it is. A lightning bolt or a leaf like the Canadian flag (Uh oh) but I do know that it's grey, like me. Anyways, under my jacket is just a plain white T-Shirt with a green neck collar. When I go to class, I usually bring my backpack too, which matches with my jacket and my gloves, which are fingerless with a green tightener.
For legwear, I finally wear something that doesn't match with the rest of my clothes: Just plain, old jeans, and sneakers. I don't really care much what I wear on the bottom half, since you gotta get real lucky to have someone look at it. Hahaha.
While I'd say just about every awesome thing you can think of on this, I'll be truthful about myself. I'm unorthodox by nature. That is, I like to add my own little changes to everything, to make it my own. For example, you show me a fighting move, I might change it slightly so it better suits me. Also, you might find me make funny faces a lot. I know my picture doesn't show it, but I wasn't allowed to smile then because it was a picture for my passport. And I frowned because, well, there's another thing about me, I'm a black-or-white kinda guy by heart. If I'm not smiling, I'm frowning. I just can't get anything in between. Even though it's not very apparent, you'll usually find me with the slightest of grins on my face when I'm feeling casual. Anyway, about the funny faces, yeah, for example, someone stares at me, I might either give a nice hearty smile at them if it's a regular stare, but if I see they're staring at me in any sort of negative way, I just pull a gross face (I love those). Sure, I'm unorthodox, but that's actually gotten me a pretty nice rep. Yeah, that's right, the people adore me. They call me 'something else' instead of weird. Although those who do call me weird usually add 'but in a good way' to their sentence. I think it's mostly because of my positive attitude towards people I don't know. If you're a stranger and you come up to me, I'll act nice at first. But I can adapt to any situation, and if you start going nasty, I'll follow. So careful. Like I said before, I'm a black and white kinda guy. You gotta respect me to be respected.
If it was up to me, I wouldn't write anything in this section, but again, I'm being truthful here. First things first, as mentioned earlier, I'm a black or white guy. That means also that when you're nasty towards me, I'll go nasty towards you. And I don't hold back. I still stick by my standards of no violence, what I'm talking about is emotional pain. When I get angry, I'm usually so harsh the person I hurt and his brother don't wanna ever see me again. That kinda sucks. I can't help it. Another thing, anger issues. Just like when I'm happy, when I'm angry, it's hard to let go. I just don't feel right unless I make the other person hurt. emotionally, not physically, that's against my standards. And I respect my standards as much as anything else.
I like to be respected, and I like peace. Respect is the main building block of peace. And Peace is a must-have in every friendship. If people don't respect me, I don't respect them, I already said that. But if people respect me, automatically do the same. See, I adapt. When there's respect, peace usually follows. Since if people respect each other (and me) then they wouldn't have a reason to squabble.
On a completely unrelated subject, I LOVE Chorba, a kind of soup that my mom made for me when I was little. I quickly caught up on the recipe, and I eat it every breakfast. I have no idea if it's healthy, and seriously, I don't care. It's awesome!
Disrespect and violence, the opposites of things I do like, are a no-no in my book. From violence, I stay far away. Disrespect I only lean to if the other person seems to disrespect me also. I call it the boomerang effect. With me, whatever you give me you get in return. And I don't mean materials, I mean attitude.
-Birth & Childhood-
My childhood was a wiley one indeed. I was born in Queens, New York on December 11th. I was raised in a small neighborhood called Geyser for the first five years of my life. I don't remember much about Geyser, but from what my parents told me, it wasn't so great. The streets were littered with junk everywhere, the neighbors weren't exactly neighborly, and wild, vicious dogs ran around. So, it wasn't long before we moved to San Diego. San Diego was a paradise. My dad soon found a steady job at Donaldson's Repairs, and I was always wanting to join him. See, when I was little, I always had this crazy urge to make and fix things. And I was damn good at it too. My father was proud of me. Something not many six year olds could have said back then. I always admired dad, always. I wanted to be a mechanic just like him when I grew up. I went to a school called Park Village Elementary, and I know that's when my popularity with the public started to rise. All the way through elementary to middle, my classmates loved me. It was the good life.
High school was hard to get used to at first. People had to accept my unorthodox ways. My first year as a freshman was unorthodox in itself. The only guys who really liked me were, of course, the other freshmen who knew me from Park Village. In fact, I almost got in trouble with the school bully from grade eleven. And damn was he scary. He had crooked teeth, like he was a cannibal, a weirdo smell, like fish, and he was huge. Abnormally huge. (Again, cliche) I managed to avoid him, but some of my classmates were picked on, especially the weaker ones. Anyway, after that year, people started to appreciate my unorthodox ways. They even liked it. And my high school popularity began. My second year was bumpy, to say the least. What with the new gang of bullies, but I managed to avoid fights and attract popularity anyway, soon enough even the bullies came flocking. They wanted to make me part of their group, but I respectfully declined, and I was lucky to get away with my life, but they didn't bother me after that. Lucky. My third and fourth years went just plain awesome. My popularity grew and my enemies declined. Again, it was the easy life. Until my senior years, and prom. When that came up, my life started to get bumpy again. Why? The Atlanteans. And it happened all too soon.
-My Atlantean Tattoo-
My atlantean tattoo came to me at the WORST possible moment: Prom. Then and there, I was dancing with the girl of my dreams, Isabella Johnson, when all of a sudden: A pain on the back of my hand. I decided to ignore it at first, but then it got so bad I couldn't take it without saying something. I excused myself to the bathroom to check it out, and my hand started glowing. I cried out in pain, as a strange shape started forming on my hand. A swirly pattern. It took my a few moments to understand what was happening: An Atlantean Tattoo. I'd heard about the Atlanteans from the countless news reports. That people all over the world were getting these strange tattoos signifying that they are of a royal Atlantean heritage. How could I be of a heritage?! When the pain finally stopped, I opened my eyes to find two things: First, the mark on my hand. Second: Isabella. "How long have you bee standing there?" I remember asking. She just ran off. Probably going to tell the head master, I thought. I knew I had to get out of here, there was a window I could et through in the bathroom, it was rectangle shaped and high up. I jumped up to it, and tried to open it: It wouldn't budge. That's when I found out about my power: Ferrokinesis. I'll explain later, basically, it's the ability to control any kind of metal. The handle that wouldn't budge was made of metal, and my power opened it up, allowing my to escape.
Also called Transmutation or Alchemy. It is effecting Metal using the power of the mind. This ability is not to be confused with Magnetokinesis; Magnetokinesis allows manipulation of magnetic fields and magnetic metals; Ferrokinesis allows manipulation of all metals. It's quite a handy ability to have, but I feel like Magneto from X-Men because of it. Even though I'm assured it's not the same thing. Hah.
Time for a scientific background. Ferrokinesis can effect any and all metals, whether that metal is in your body or in the rock you're holding in your hand. I can bend and manipulate metal to do whatever I want. I can also subtract in from any other thing, while I can't control that thing, I can control the metal within it. Of course, I use the power of my mind to do this, since bending some aluminium foil with my hands isn't very special. But don't think all this is it. No, I can do much more. I can change metal's structure to make it more resistant to rust, I can fuse two metals, I can change one metal into another, I can even make them more resistant to magnetism. Finally, I also have the ability to stretch metal, and envelop myself in it, creating a sort of armor.
Note, without any metal my ability is useless. I always keep a bar of metal in my pocket. I can make any weapon out of this one little bar of Steel, in case I need it.
From Percy Jackson: War of the Gods.
Suddenly, Jared heard footsteps. That would be his only roommate-and half-sister-Luna...something. Jared really couldn't remember. He peeped his eye open just in time to see her enter the bathroom. There was something outside the door though, it looked like a dog, and it was rubbing its muzzle because Jared's sister had just slammed the door in its face. What she was saying was inaudible, considering Jared was still half asleep, but soon she got out of the shower area, already dressed. She did a bunch of other stuff, seemingly normal stuff for a Demigod, Jared thought. After all that, she rushed out to meet some other person, Jared heard them talking for a while before leaving. The dog following her.
After she was gone, Jared took it as his cue to get out of here. Luckily he was fully awake by now, he got up, wobbly-legged, and went to the bathroom. Jared had taken a shower last night, so he didn't see why he should in the morning. He crouched down to the bottom cabinet: the one with all his stuff in it, and took out a deodorant. Jared never really read the labels, he just smelled it to see if it was good, and sprayed it on his chest. Next, he took a toothbrush, sprayed it with water, lay a layer of toothpaste on it, and brushed. After rinsing, he put on his usual Camp Half-Blood clothes, and his Artemis bracelet. As he walked for the door, he suddenly tripped and fell on his elbows. He looked back and saw that his quiver was still lying on the floor from last night. "Stupid, stupid!" he muttered as he got up and picked up his quiver. The thing was still as beautiful as ever, Jared sometimes thought it had some spell around it so it couldn't be scratched. In the year that Jared had 'abused' it, it still hadn't lost any paint. He looked to his bed where he saw his beautiful Artemis Bow still lying there, as if waiting to be used again. Jared went over to his bed and took his bow. He strapped his quiver back onto his back and twirled the bow in his hand as he went for the door once again. Half expecting to trip again, he took a step outside.
The camp was busy as ever, Demigods were walking around here and there, some droopy from being woken up so early, others ready to start the day. Most of these would be from the Apollo Cabin. Jared rolled his eyes. What's so great about the sun anyway? He thought. He also thought he better start his training exercises and then head off for Archery practice. Today was also Capture the flag, which is why Jared hated Fridays.
After the usual routine: Push-ups, sit-ups, and all the other exercises that had no name, he walked his way up to the training area. There were various training routines one could take, but Jared liked nothing more than a nice- "Hey bruvah, what's up?!" a voice came from Jared's left. He turned to find his best friend T-J standing next to him. T-J was a son of Hermes, and Jared's best friend. He was black, and was wearing his regular Camp Half-Blood T-Shirt. Although he preferred to stick with army trousers. "Heeey, T-J, it's cool, it's cool." Jared said, as they knuckle-bumped. T-J was still wearing his flying shoes, it was annoying how he tended to fly around camp with them, really. T-J didn't train much, in fact, he was pretty skinny. He was also a few inches shorter than Jared. "Stain' in shape, I see." Jared teased. "Shut up, ya fitness nut." T-J struck back. Jared had to admit he was right, he could be a fitness nut from time to time.
The two strolled into the archery section of the training grounds and saw a few targets already stricken hundreds of times. And still being stricken hundreds of times. It was here that Jared was certain he would find his friend Henri, a child of Apollo. He always beat him to the training room. And sure enough, there he stood proud as ever, basking in his fancy sunlight. "Hey, Henri, 'sup?" T-J blurted. Henri turned around to face the twosome, he lowered his bow and said, "He-hey, how's it up people?" Henri greeted them. Funny enough, that's what T-J had just asked, but Henri had made that his greeting and he wasn't going to change it. He wore the usual Camp Half-Blood shirt, under a zipped hoodie that he had been given last Christmas. "Come on Jared, let's get sushi." Henri said. Henri was a master of metaphors, like for instance, 'Let's get sushi' meant 'Let's do target practice' which was kind of weird, but funny too. Sometimes Henri used the stupidest metaphor, and they'd all laugh their butts off. Usually at dinner, which was annoying because you had a mouthful of food.
"Alright." Jared said, simply. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and got his bow up straight. "T-J, throwdown." Henri said, which was Henri-an for "Do a coin-toss." Henri wasn't like this all the time, but occasionally his metaphors were only understandable to his friends. T-J grabbed a coin from his pocket, an ancient Greek coin at that, and threw it up into the air. He caught it it and said "Heads". Now everyone knew 'heads' was just another word for 'Henri' so that meant he got first shot. Without hesitation he pulled an arrow from his quiver, placed the end between his fingers, pulled the strong back and shot. The arrow struck right in the middle of the 20-feet target. Jared had next shot, he grabbed his arrow, pulled back the strong of Artemis's Bow and shot the arrow. It lunged through the air, and struck right beside Jared's arrow. Upon closer inspection, it turned out that Jared's arrow had sliced off the right-side plumes of Henri's arrow. Henri chuckled. "Dude, that's the fourth arrow this week." he said. "But you still got less points than me." Henri teased.
Next up was the 30-feet target, and Henri had first shot. His arrow sliced through the air, and managed to strike the 8 ring. Next was Jared, who was determined to do better. He took his arrow from the quiver, placed it upon his bow and aimed it at the target. If he wanted to get better than the 8-ring, he had to try hard. The annoying thing was that Henri's power was boosted in the sun, which wasn't fair. But it was like this every day. Jared sighed, and launched his arrow. It struck on the 9-ring, which was a first on the 30-feet target against Henri, who almost always won.
"Well, well, brother. Looks like you finally beet me on the thirty." Henri said. "And I pinned you on the twenty, so there's only one way to settle this. Bring out...the thirty point one." Henri said in a dramatic tone. Jared hated the thirty point one, because his best record on that was the 4-ring, which really sucked, especially for a Demigod. The only trick to it was to move the thirty feet target one centimeter further. It may not have seemed to make that much difference, but it seemed like being a Demigod meant you had your limits programmed before you were born. One centimeter too much and you suddenly fell to the rank of amateur.
The son of Apollo, Henri had the first shot. He launched his arrow as fast he could, which was a mistake. It struck the 5-ring. When Jared took his arrow out, he was pretty sure he was gonna lose again, so there was only one thing to do: try to destroy Henri's arrow. It was hard to do, but in these matches, when you managed to do it, your opponent's points drop back to zero. This was Jared's lucky day, as he pulled the strong back as far as he could, and launched the arrow, it struck right on Henri's arrow and sliced it in two. "What?! That's illegal!" Henri teased. "Ha, it's illegal for you to lose." Jared said, arms crossed and staring at his victory.
Unfortunately, the fun was soon to end. Jared had to make his way over to the Capture the flag game. As stated before, he hated this game. As the three neared the edge of the forest, Jared and T-J broke off from Henri, who went to go join the Blue team. Jared thought about it, and he didn't understand why he and his sister had to be on separate teams. After all, they were both children of Artemis. Even here, Jared was treated like the odd child.
Among the crowd of the Red team, Jared was sure he could hear a familiar voice. He looked around and finally found its source: A girl with a quiver and a bow, probably a child of Apollo. This voice was easily recognizable for some reason, and Jared was sure it was the person that his sister Luna had been talking near the Artemis cabin.
As Jared listened to Chiron explain the rules of the game all over again, he asked T-J "Hey, T-J, do you like this game?" T-J chuckled and replied "Umm, duh, who doesn't?" Jared chuckled lightly at this. "I don't." he said.