Based on an idea by Rick Riordan comes a brand new story where The Greek Gods meet The Celtic Gods
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Character sheet from Sloan Hawthorne
Son of Gwydion
Name
:
Sloan Hawthorne
Gender
:
Male
Age
:
16
Physical Description
:
Sloan stands at 6 foot 1, with a slender but obviously well built body. Sloan has dark brunette hair that reaches his eyebrows and eyes that are darker than the night itself. With a scar that runs a jagged line from above his left eye down to tip of his left ear, Sloan seems ominous and his eyes aren't trust worthy. But what really catches the mortal's eyes is the fact that Sloan doesn't have a left arm. Taken away with the same attack that gave him the scar, Sloan makes due with the one he has, and makes no attempt to hide his 'stump'. Sloan usually wears dark clothes, and rarely do you see him in any sort of bright colors. Sporting a black wristband and his converse, Sloan takes on the world with keen eyes and a steeled heart.
Personality
:
Sloan is usually a quiet guy, one that tends to blend into the pavement. But his steel heart flairs red when something, or someone he cares about is in danger. You would think that with the amount of time he thinks and stays to himself, Sloan would never be the type to go with his gut instinct or flagrantly disregard orders, but your wrong. Sloan is a bit of a hothead when his temper gets the best of him, but other than that, he's his quiet, observant self. Good at reading people, Sloan's dark past attributes for what seems to be his coldness to people, because he really is still hurting inside from what happened. Not one to judge a book y its cover, Sloan has a hard time trusting people, but can keep a secret for life. If you have managed to crack his shell of indifference, you would find that Sloan is a sarcastic loyal friend who will lay his life on the line for those he cares about.
History
:
Sloan was born and raised on Prince Edward Island. Well, raised by foster parents that is. His foster dad, James was a doctor, and his foster mom, Susan was an ill-known author. You would think that his home life would’ve been fairly quiet. It was, until his 16 birthday. That was the day his life unraveled. It was on his sixteenth birthday that Sloan woke up to the muffled screams of his foster sister, Michelle, through the thin walls of their house. His parents had gone to a dinner theatre party with one of James's colleagues, and it was only about 1 in the morning. Jumping out of bed, He bolted out his door and into up the hall to the ajar door. Busting in, Sloan's eyes widened a guy in a ski mask had a gun lodged inside of Michelle’s mouth, tears streaming down her face. Sloan put his hands up and whispered to the maniac. "Please, not her. Take anything, but don't harm her." Sloan pleaded, but the burglar had other plans. With an audible click, the gun went off, and she didn’t even have time to scream as the bullet pierced her head. Sloan, crazed, ran into the room, and wrestled the gun away from the man, pointing it to his head. The burglar pleaded, and Sloan asked him why. "Because of you, demi-god." He said in a low, slurred voice. "You do not belong with these...these mortals." He spat, and squeezing his eyes shut, Sloan pulled the trigger. Not even four hours later, Sloan sat shaking in the woods, trying to compose himself. He had just killed a man, wrote a note to his foster parents, and fled the house. Scared of himself, of what he did, Sloan stumbled into the woods of the island. He was so lost, so confused, as to what he was. The burglar almost knew that Sloan wasn't mortal, something Sloan was on the verge of finding out soon. But with the recent events, Sloan needed to get away. It was then that he heard the rustle of the trees and shrubs behind him. Slowly turning around he saw a creature like no other. His mind didn't even have time to register it before it was on top of him, grasping his arm into its jaws. With a scream, Sloan tore away, instantly realizing that his forearm hadn't made the trip with him. Scrambling to get to his feet the monster swiped at him, one claw catching between his left eye and ear and tore across his face. By then Sloan managed to grasp the gun he kept from the maniac and shot at the beast. Managing to get it in its chest, Sloan took off running, fastening a tourniquet for his arm as he did. Disoriented and crazed, he ran blindly toward his old home, and passed out from loss of blood as James and Susan pulled into the driveway. Waking up in the hospital, James took the privilege to gravelly tell Sloan exactly what he was, A half blood. But James couldn't stand to look at Sloan so he left Sloan with a plane ticket to Manhattan and a warning to never come back. After all, Michelle had been killed because of him. With a bandaged arm and a healing scar, Sloan was mentally confused, as he should be, in light of current events. After being released from the hospital, Sloan took his meager belongings and boarded a plane to Manhattan, in search of this camp he was told about by James. Coming off the airplane like a crippled freak, Sloan found the gray businessman who James had arranged for him to meet with. Not speaking one word, the man walked back to his car with Sloan and drove him to camp. After all, this was one of James many associates, and he was being paid to transport Sloan, not to converse with him. Dropping him off at the base of a hill, Sloan took his duffel bag and trudged up it, ready to hopefully start a new life, and forget his old one.