Those That Came Before

[Phantom1]

Pecy Jackson and the Olympians: Those That Came Before

Rated T for Teen

Percy Jackson and the Olympians​

Those That Came Before​

Spring Cleaning​

- Prologue -​

Percy pulled his shirt over his nose as he ascended into the Oracle's attic. Of all the chores that he could have been assigned, this one was most definitely not on the short list. Of course he could have drawn cleaning up after Mrs. O'Leary, or even clipping the dragon's claws, so things weren't as bad as they could have been. Even so, he didn't look forward to cleaning out this attic, nor spending any extended amount of time with the Oracle.

He was only half way up the steps, and already he could smell that familiar scent combination of dust, mold, and old lady perfume. Percy stopped at the top of the stairs, and gawked at the sheer amount of stuff in the attic. Aside from the lady of honor herself, there were trophies, plaques, lamps, and enough boxes Percy thought could fill a warehouse. With a sigh and a prayer to his dad for patience, Percy delved into the massive amount of stuff that needed sorting.

The job turned out to be even more than Chiron had told him it would be. Sure there were cool trophies of war that past heroes had stored here in the attic, those Percy admired as he came across them, thing was not all of them were entirely safe to handle. He came across a sword with it's name written in Ancient Greek along the celestial bronze blade, when Percy spoke the sword's name aloud the sword burst into flames all along the blade. Frantic, Percy jumped back, almost dropping the blade into a pile of very flammable newspapers that he had been sorting before finding the sword. Thinking quickly, Percy repeated the name and the flames went out instantly. Percy carefully placed the flaming sword in the 'flammable' pile and continued to sort though the attic.

After two hours Percy had managed to make a Percy sized wedge in the attic's junk. He sighed and sat on the pile of newspapers that was still behind him. He looked across the Oracle across the room, she of course didn't seem to be in any mood for talking, which probably was a good thing for Percy. So it was even more surprising when Percy heard a woman's voice from the stair case. Percy almost fell backwards, and only managed to stop himself by grabbing onto a nearby file cabinet, but the cabinet wasn't quite level, and Percy clinging onto it for dear life wasn't helping at all. The cabinet came crashing down, and Percy with it flinging newspapers and manilla folders all over the attic.

"What in the name of the gods is going on up here Sea-Weed Brain?" he heard Annabeth's voice above him.

Groaning, Percy unburied himself from the papers and sat up, "I thought you monitoring all the chores?" he said looking up at her.

She knelt down in front of him and offered her hand, "Duh, I am," she said with a smile.

Returning her smile, Percy grabbed her hand and she pulled him to his feet. "I think I've gotten a bit more than I bargained for, or something," he said, brushing himself off. Annabeth helped, getting the dust from his back

"I figured that Chiron could handle things for a while, and I figured you could use some help."

Percy smiled and gestured to the massive amount of papers that were now strewn around the room, "Feel free to pick a place to start."

Annabeth pointed to the tan file cabinet that was laying face down in the middle of the floor, "Might as well start with that." She then walked to the cabinet and picked up the top and lifted it off the ground, Percy ran over to help and together they managed to get it right side up again. Percy leaned on the the cabinet, watching Annabeth as she started to pick up the files that had fallen out.

As he stood there he noticed that one of the drawers had was still slightly opened. Curious, he opened the drawer all the way. Inside, Percy noticed a file that was jammed in the side of the drawer, preventing it from closing. It was pretty thick compared to the other folders that had fallen out. It was labeled with a year. It was so faded that Percy had to tilt it to get it in better light. He noticed that it was marked 1941-1944.

"Hey," he said turned to face Annabeth, "I found something."

Annabeth looked at the folder, "It's an old personnel file," she said reaching for the file. Percy handed over the old file. Annabeth pointed to the ones scattered around the floor, "They used these to keep records of demigods after the War."

"Weird, so it's like a school private record?"

"Exactly," she said. Annabeth opened the folder, releasing a small dust cloud, then moved into better light. Percy followed her as she sat on a group of boxes underneath the window. She laid the folder flat on her lap. Inside were what looked like official documents and old photos.

"So," he said, "who's file is it."

"A demigod named Jacob Dvorak" she said reading the file, "was unclaimed, born 1922, and died- that's weird."

"What?"

"There's no death listed, either whoever wrote this report never completed it, or he never died," she said as she paged through.

Percy noticed a photo that was taped to the inside of the folder, it showed a young man with dark hair wearing old style military uniform, and standing at the familiar arch that lead into Camp Half-Blood. He couldn't have been more than eighteen or twenty years old, "I take it this is him," he said, pointing at the picture.

"Yeah, here's another one," she said handing him another photo. It was the same dark haired man, it was one of those official military photos.

"A half blood fought in World War II?" he asked, handing her back the photo.

She smiled, "Half bloods were the reason for World War II."

"Wait," Percy said, giving Annabeth a look, "Hitler was a demigod?"

"Yes," she said smiling, "a lot of the major people back then were, Churchill was said to be one, so was President Roosevelt he was a son of Athena, and George Patton-"

"The tank guy?" Percy interrupted.

"Yes the tank guy," she sight, "George Patton was a son of Hephaestus."

Percy nodded, "Hephaestus, tanks, makes sense."

"A lot of demigods joined in the war," she paused, "quite a few didn't make it back."

"So what's this guy's story?"

______________________________________


My first Percy Jackson and the Olympians fanfic. I <3 reviews

Thanks for reading! Be sure to catch the next chapter here, or at fanfiction.net!

 

[Phantom1]

Monday Morning​

- 1 -​

Jacob dived to the side as Erik's sword swung at him; Jacob rolled and blocked with his sword, their swords clash, echoing in the snow. A smile flashed on Jacob's face as he pushed his opponent back, Jacob stepped back as well, they circled as they each other waiting for any opportunity to strike.

It was a common site at Camp Half-Blood to see warriors sword training. The two demigods stood locked in combat in the middle of the snow covered training field.Despite the cold, sweat glistened on their brows. They wore ancient greek armor, each warrior wielded a greek style blade, celestial bronze, and a large shield.

"You're done, Larson," Jacob laughed as he dodged another attack from Erik. He swung again. This time Jacob caught it on his shield, and he knocked Erik off balance; he sweeped at Erik's feet, but Erik dodged just in time.

"That's what you think," Erik mumbled as he stepped back and gathered himself. They circled, then both charged, they both became a whirlwind of steel and leather, and then, suddenly, only one warrior was left standing, his sword at the neck of the downed warrior.

Jacob sheathed his sword and removed his helmet, revealing his untidy black hair which had a major case of helmet hair. He ran his hand through his hair as Erik stood and brushed himself off, "You've gotten better," Erik smiled as he bent to retrieve his sword which had flown a good eight feet from them.

Jacob returned the smile, "So have you."

Smiling, Erik sheathed his sword, "Not good enough."

"Again?"

"Naw," Erik shook his head, "I'm worn out I-" he stopped talking, his mouth still open in shock.

A short man with goat legs was running full tilt toward him. It wasn't uncommon at all to see a satyr at the Camp, but what was uncommon to see was one wearing mittens on not only his hands, but his horns as well. Jacob couldn't help but snicker at the sight of Donald running to them looking like that. Donald was a caretaker of sorts at Camp Half-Blood, a retired Protector, in fact he'd been Jacob's protector and escort to the camp,
Jacob smiled as the old satyr stopped and caught his breath, "Hey Donny," he said as he made his way over to where the satyr nearly collapsed, "what's the hurry?"

It took a moment for Donald to catch his breath, he must have run all the way here from the main part of Camp, "News!" he said, still short for air, "something... happened...need to come..." Jacob could tell by Donald's expression that something very not good had happened, Erik must have picked up on it too, because he started for Camp, Jacob followed leaving a very tired Donald behind him.

When they reached the camp it had just started snowing, gently falling snow floated from the heavens and began coating the old cabins with a fresh coat of snow. They neared the main cabin they saw a group of satyrs and wood nymphs outside, even the cleaning harpies were there and they usually didn't tolerate even being with others.

Since it was winter he and Erik were the only demigods at the camp, since they had no homes to go to back to during the winter months. When Jacob was five his mom was killed when their family home burned to the ground on his birthday. The 'official' story is that a unatteneded birthday candle started the blaze, but what Jacob would learn to know was that it was actually a fire demon (all he remembered was a lion with a second head and udders) that started the fire in an attempt to kill him. Jacob was sent to an orphanage where he became good friends with Erik, that's when bad things started to happen, next thing they knew the place was being attacked by a minotaur and the janitor had a bit more leg hair than they thought.

That's when they got to Camp Half-Blood, that's when they were told that he was really a demigod, that one of his parents had been one of the ancient greek gods, thing was they didn't know which one was his father. Erik was one too. Jacob was happy to not be alone, but that didn't last long. Less than a week after arriving at the Camp Erik was "claimed" meaning that his godly parent had come out and given a sign that Erik was of their blood. Little five year old Erik was a son of Hermes. That was almost thirteen years ago and still Jacob hadn't been claimed. At least he got to live with Erik at the Hermes cabin, though a lot of his stuff had gone missing over the years.

It hurt him that he was never claimed. It made him feel like he was never good enough, like he was nothing but a second thought to whoever god his parent was. He had a mixed feeling that resembled sadness, fury, and the familiar feeling of neglection. It angered him so much once that he ran away from camp when he was fourteen.

He took a celestial bronze blade with him, a small dagger he concealed in his sleave, as well as a pack of clothes, a tiny amount of cash, and one golden drachma. He left and found a small diner a few miles south of the Camp. There were three men eating at a booth in the corner there that made his blood run cold. He half sprinted toward the counter.

A heavy set woman wearing a pink apron and a hair net approached him, "What can I get you kid?"

Jacob blinked, "Do you have a Pepsi?"

The woman smiled, "Sure thing kiddo," then she went into the back. Jacob sat there on the bar stool, feeling the eyes of the men in the booth behind him. He tapped the counter nervously hoping that she'd hurry with his soda so he could leave. An eternity later she returned with his Pepsi, she poped the cap and placed a straw in the neck,

Jacob muttered a thanks and reached in his pocket to pay, the lady smiled, "No need kid, it's on the house."

Jacob muttered another thanks and sipped his soda, it was a bit flat but refreshing nonetheless. She left him to his soda, as she left Jacob felt someone sit next to him, placing his soda on the counter Jacob turned to see one of the men sitting next to him.

He was younger, not out of his twenties, but in his eyes he looked older than he really was. His clothes were in rough shape, and he shifted a toothpick from one side to the other in his mouth, "Hey," the guy said with a smile, Jacob was very focused on his soda, "there's a slight... tax around here." Jacob was still silent so the man continued, "A tax so that people stay nice and safe around here, sure you understand?"

Jacob's eyes were still on his Pepsi, "I don't want any trouble."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the man smile, "That's good, let's say... a ten cent piece and we will make sure things stay safe."

"I don't have that much."

The man stood, "Too bad, we'll just take what you do got, then we'll see what else we can get together, eh?" Jacob pressed the hilt of the dagger in his hand, but then he cursed, the bronze wouldn't do anything to a mortal.

Just then there was a loud crash in the kitchen, and a loud high pitched screech that made Jacob's spine tingle. Then a large furry angry chicken wearing a pink apron and a hairnet appeared, she attacked the thug and nearly ripped his head right off. The thug's body landed with a thud and Jacob stood there, frozen in fear. The other thugs were up now, weapons having magically appeared in their hands, she tored through them like they were nothing. Jacob had to wonder what they saw through the mist, a wild chicken gone homicidal? Or just a really pissed off old lady? Jacob drew his dagger and backed toward the door. She sqawked and drew in on him.

That's when he heard it. Hoofbeats. Next thing he knew the door smashed open and a centaur stood in the frame, bow drawn, "Duck!" Chiron said sternly, Jacob hit the floor and Chiron released the arrow, striking the evil chicken inbetween the eyes. She exploded in a cloud of smoke, leaving a dust pile where she once stood. If it weren't for Chiron, Jacob could have died that day, and if he survived some other monster would attack him, and another and another. How would he survive? Jacob would never forget that day. The day he realised that he needed Camp Half Blood in order to survive, that he could never live a safe life outside.


Now he was almost eighteen, and Jacob was terriffied. Once he and Erick were eighteen they would be cast away from the Camp, too old to be campers they would be sent into the world. It was a sad thing and pretty uncommon since many demigods hardly make it to puberty. He would be eighteen in three days, Erik in two.

Luckily the monsters were more attracted to what was going on in Europe. The Nazi war machine had invaded Poland and started a war. Most people didn't know it, but it was a war of the gods. Adolf Hitler, a son of Hades, lead the Nazis, he not only has tanks and soldiers, but monsters as well.

As they got closer they could see that everyone was surrounding the radio, a gift from Hermes to the Camp. They dropped their gear and came in to listen, the voice was none other that Franklin D. Roosevelt himself, they'd heard him on the radio a dozen times before, "Yesterday, December 7, 1941 - a date which will live in infamy - the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan. "

 

[psyanic]

Percy Jackson! I had a really weird role-playing stint in that department. Though I thought the books were interesting, especially when it helped me ace a Greek Gods test.

Your story has a sound basis, in the plot anyway. It follows the story of Jacob and his involvement with WWII, which you also incorporated the demigods into. That's a pretty good mix there. Though, I had a problem with the prologue. It was kind of pointless. I'll probably eat those words once Jacob appears in their time. I had to say it though.

Your sentences have a lot of fragments in it. There are a few spelling errors too, but I'll mention those later as we go along. See, you conjoin so many clauses and put it into one sentence. They clog up and you try to nullify it by putting in commas here and there. Those commas are comma splices, and are grammatically incorrect. When you have two independent clauses, you separate them by a semi-colon. For example:

Jacob dived to the side as Erik's sword swung at him. Jacob rolled and blocked with his sword; their swords clash, echoing in the snow. A smile flashed on Jacob's face as he pushed Erik back; Jacob stepped back as well; their eyes met as Jacob decided his next move.

And I put in semi-colons where they were needed. But look at this sentence now. Those are some really long sentences are they? And I'm not talking about word length, but more about the ideas behind them. This is a fight scene. In reality, fights aren't that long. Fights might be a short exchange of two-three punches and a good kick to boot, but after that someone's on the ground moaning with a black eye. This fight was just as long, in my opinion. A few clashing and then they step back and glare at each other. That's too boring. It's so drab and I was horribly uninterested in it. There was the awkwardness of the words, and how fast paced the action seemed. The thing was it, this bit was in a pattern. "Jacob does this. Erik did this. Jacob did this. They glared at each other."

This bit of action could have been used for something for interesting. Say, you could have introduced character with each action. Jacob could have been obviously winning, telling readers that he's a good swordsman or Erik sucks. Also, you didn't use many pronouns. That's alright I guess, but just using their names gets on my nerves. It sure does avoid confusion, though it's annoying. Try to mix it up.

It probably was the only place where it was. Two demigods stood locked in battle They stood in the middle of the snow covered training field. Despite the cold, sweat drenched them both. They wore ancient greek armor, a breastplate, arm guards and shin guards, their heads were protected with plummed helms. Each warror wielded a greek style blade, celestial bronze, and a large shield.

There are quite a few things I'd like to mention about this paragraph. The first sentence didn't really make sense. It probably was the only place it was? What does that mean?

After the second sentence, you're missing a period. Next, yes they sweat, but I don't think drenched is a good word. When I think drenched, I think someone poured it on them. And pouring sweat is absolutely disgusting. Try soaked or, "Sweat patches creeped on their cotton shirts." Okay, a few more things. You describe what they wear, but it was almost excessive. You could have just said they wore armor and be done with it. Listing out what they wear is a tad bit too much.

Okay, two more things! You spelled "plumed" wrong. And you also spelled "warrior" wrong. It's weird because you spelled warrior right later on, so I'm guessing that it was a typo. Done talking about this paragraph!

"You're not winning this time Larson," Jacob laughed as he dodged another attack from Erik.

I feel like you need a comma before "Larson", because a little bit of a pause gives more of a human feeling dialogue.

They circled, then both charged, they both became a whirlwind of steel and leather, and then, suddenly, only one warrior was left standing, his sword at the neck of the downed warrior.

Again, too many independent clauses. Space out the action and the sentences. This trend happens a lot in your story, so please please please fix them.

It wasn't uncommon at all to see a fawn at the Camp, but what was uncommon to see was one wearing mittens on not only his hands, but his horns as well.

No. They are not fawns. Fawns are young deer, like Bambi. These goat-like creatures you are referring to are called satyrs.

Okay next part and then I really don't want to say anymore. You transitioned from the Camp back to the past. Jacob's past. It's nifty, but it jumps too quickly. Usually writers do a page break or the characters talk about the event, but you just dive straight into it. I don't like that kind of narrative. It can be fine, but it really takes away from what you're presenting here. Actually, it's best not to mention their pasts until later. I noticed that a lot of role-plays have that bit on characters and their sign-ups, but in genuine writing, it's best to slowly reveal the layers of their past like an onion. Peel off one skin at a time and eventually it'll become clear. You can probably find this most evident in the actual books. I'm talking about the second one where Annabeth has her past revealed and why she doesn't like Tyson.

Make sure the pacing is well balanced. Too slow, and it gets boring. Too fast, and readers get pissed. But just enough and it's interesting.

Gah, I sound like I have no soul. That's okay though. You have a few things to work on, but other than that, I think it's an interesting story. Your style works in beats and it kind of threw me off at first, but I got used to it eventually. Try to mix things up. Your dialogue, at times, didn't sound really human. You'll learn that later. I would highly suggest you proofread your work, both for errors and spelling and such. It's annoying to see typos, especially when the rest of the story is solid. It shows that you're a bit lazy.

Anyway, you have the potential to make this a great story, you just have to work a bit. Then again, you have to work for everything. Keep writing, keep improving, and good luck!

 

[Phantom1]

Er... thanks for your review, I guess?

In truth I had forgotten about this fanfic until a few days ago.

The reason for the prologue was that... well there wasn't one. It was just a means to introduce the story, nothing more. There may be something later, but that would be spoilers.

Typos happen, and I know about the fawn/satyrs thing. It was a mistake and I forgot I'd posted the early version here and not the fixed one. I'll post the fixed one when I can. I noticed that mistake and a few others you mentioned which are corrected in an edit I made a few hours ago.

Note my grammar tends to be terrible, and I don't have very much time for edits.

I would be preferred not to be called 'lazy' though, I take offense at that. I work two full time jobs and I really honestly don't care about a misplaced semi colon. I'm not planning on being a published author. I'm here to make a story.

EDIT: Fixed version up.