The perfect weapons (OPEN)

[martyn]

Martyn opened the shed and looked around at all the weapons that lined the walls. It was such an amazing collection that he was shocked at first at the scale of it. Yeah he knew what kind of camp this was and the fact that a lot of demigods had gone through the place but this…..wow. He stepped in, letting his fingers touch the blades that lined one side. They were in all kinds of shapes, from your normal Greek leaf shaped blades, to the straighter swords crafted later in history. The place would have made any historical war nut have a heart attack from excitement. He even spotted guns that expected shot special kinds of bullets up with the bows and such. He knew though that range wasn’t his style. It wasn’t like he had actually shot a bow but when Craitus had taught him how to use swords he found that he used them like they were actually a part of him. Swords were something he found himself even addicted to after that. He would go to the local library and read about different types of swords or look stuff up online about tactics of using them. It was almost an obsession, heck he was had even finished one up when he had heard his mothers screams.

That moment was probably not the best time to think about that. The sound of her screams slid through his mind with intense pain. He tried his hardest to push the sounds out hard and after awhile finally did. His eyes had been unfocused but when the sound had left he found that his hand and his eyes had stopped on two swords that were hung on the wall in a pair, like they belonged together. He touched the Bronze blades lightly and examined them. The blades were curved but not sharp on both sides only on the concaved side. He recognized the style and remembered that he had read something about how Egyptian and early Israelites used different styles of these, though the ones he was looking at were Greek and were known as Kopis swords. They were sometimes used as secondary to the normal phalanx spear, yet as Martyn reached up and took them both he found that they felt almost like they were perfect in his hands. He swung them once or twice in a way he had learned and found that they were balanced completely and worked greatly with his strength. They grips were leather and could be easily kept in his hand because of a curve in the handle that barely wrapped around where your hand would be.

“These are perfect.”

[Ryan Simons]

Ryan trudged his way to the armory, ignoring the other Campers. As usual; welcome to a day in the life of Ryan Simons. He kept his head high and his stride the same as he approached the forge. This is what came from owning weapons. They needed proper care, they needed to be sharpened and the whole nine yards. Ryan had been taught how to do that, so he didn't need anyone to take care of his stuff. He was self sufficient and he was staying that way. He was following his rules, his own way and his own schedule; no matter how much it went against Camp's so called "rules" and "social ways". He didn't care about either of them. He knew that this place was mostly for the kids of the Hammer Head. He couldn't care less; his level of caring was high in the negatives. As in the negative millions. He had made his own weapons; maybe it wasn't as good as the kids' who had gotten them from the Hammer Head's children, but they got the job done. That, plus he felt a weird connection with them. They had been made by him, for him; all those hours had paid off. He still had his original steel weapons, plus a few additions of celestial bronze.

After being around fire and heat for so long, Ryan didn't mind it at all. He had grown up with a forge, a forest and an isolated house. Being in the hot armory was better than freezing in a small room during winter with no heat. The boy was in black and wearing long sleeves and long pants, so that may of intensified the heat, but he was pretty much used to it by now. Growing up, he had pretty much become resilient, a lot. He remembered not being that happy, being told to just wait and watch while his aunt made weapons. Being a demigod with bad, encouraged ADHD made it hard for him to sit still for anything. The young Ryan had fidgeted for hours on edge, just watching metal being heated, molded, cooled and then everything else in the process of weapon making. Then again, even to this day, he was edgy and tense 27/7/4/12/360. It helped him, annoyed others. Whatever, he didn't care. It worked for him and kept him alive; no proof that it'd just randomly stop working.

As he entered the forge, he saw another boy looking at weapons. Ryan wasn't sure of his facial expression, so the boy just rolled his grey blue eyes. He had been in here dozens of times and had seen all of the great weapons the Camp had to offer. Of course, he had no idea of the names or anything; he just took in the aspects of them to try and get ideas for his own weapons. This was a training camp, not a weapon history course. Although he was probably sure Kath had told him weapon history facts, but he had long since forgotten them. All he remembered was how to make them. He snorted as the boy spoke up, looking at a particular set of double swords. "Do you usually talk to walls of swords and tell them how you feel about them?" the demigod boy sneered. Gods, this kids in his Camp were insane! They couldn't live with silence. Their mouths always had to be moving and their ears always hearing themselves.

OOC: Heya! Hope this is okay... sorry about him
Character Name: Ryan Simons
Mood: Angry
To: Martyn Aris-Son of Hephaestus
IC Word Count: 592
Made By: Ellie Brigid at Olympian Prophecy

Legend:
"Ryan Speaking"
Ryan Thinking
Ryan's Story Thinking

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[martyn]

Martyn was at first shocked when he turned and saw the guy standing there giving him a look of scorn and snapping at him about talking to the swords. He hadn’t been at all but he found himself unnerved at the same time. It wasn’t like he knew really how to act around here, yeah he knew that swords, motorcycles and other things made by hand weren’t able to talk back but he had caught himself talking to them occasionally. Things like his Motorcycle and stuff like that he would talk to like a best friend, his mom had said it was something he had inherited from his father. He found nothing wrong with it but at that moment he hadn’t even been doing such a thing so he found himself confused.

”I wasn’t, but ok?” His words were said under his breath as he turned and looked around for some kind of sheaths he could place the swords in. He was starting to get a handle with them and had an idea that with some practice he might even be able to make a go at the forest which he kept hearing was stocked with creatures that the campers were encouraged to fight. He liked the idea greatly and hoped that maybe he would have a go at it. Training was what he needed most, he trained with these swords he could master them, mastering them meant he was one step closer to being able to face whatever killed his mother. The thought of killing that creature was what drove him and he knew without a doubt that it would make everything better once it was dead.

Turning to look at the other though, who seemed to be moving with purpose through the armory, he wondered if others would get in his way or act like a wank like this dude seemed to. He hoped no. No one needed to get in his way, only those who had been responsible for that night would die, no one else.

[Ryan Simons]

Something passed over the new Random Annoying's face. His facial expression changed. Ryan let out an internal exhale. He couldn't decipher moods from a person's face; he could only take verbal hints. That was a disadvantage to him. His opponent may not talk, but their face was always there. Weather they could hide emotions or not was a different issue. He knew that he really needed to start teaching himself. Ryan's grey blue eyes narrowed as he began to size the boy up. Kath had only showed him limited ones. He had learned others while in the forest, but had forgotten after his friends disappeared on him. Ryan hadn't wanted to really forget, maybe he did; he wasn't sure. He remembered just getting beaten up and being pushed harder after that whole forest episode. After so many spars, any niceties that he had obtained back had just gotten beat out of him. Quite literally.

"Sure you weren't," Ryan sneered, rolling his eyes. It had become so common, that he actually had no idea that he was doing it anymore. Ryan kept watching the boy through analytical eyes; he was still trying to place where he had seen that facial expression before. His mind was still coming up blank. The demigod boy scoffed. He may of liked weapons, but he wasn't going to start talking to them. Talking to inanimate objects was a hair next to insanity. Ryan had talked to Kath on a daily basis; He remembered Edmund talking to animals; that didn't count since they were living. Maybe they just couldn't understand eachother. Okay, fine, everyone was just weird in this world. Heck! This whole camp was filled with freaks that had god blood running through their veins! Everyone had to have an abnormality or this place would be dead boring.

OOC: OMGiz. I am so sorry for that horrible post! .... this has to be the biggest fail post since I've joined here *head wall* I"m sorry! The original reply got deleted then I got a bit ticked -_-
Character Name: Ryan Simons
Mood: Angry
To: Martyn Aris-Son of Hephaestus
IC Word Count: 312
Made By: Ellie Brigid at Olympian Prophecy

Legend:
"Ryan Speaking"
Ryan Thinking
Ryan's Story Thinking

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[martyn]

Martyn heard the words and shook his head. He didn’t know who this guy thought he was but he really didn’t need to listen to his crap, he wanted to get used to these swords before he did anything else. His eyes went from the guy who seemed to think he was in controle of the armory, and searched for sheaths that he could use for his new swords, soon finding some on a rack alittle farther down from some shields that rested agienst the wall in a line. The sheaths were crossed so that you could place it on your back and it would be starpped there by a harness that he supposed went under the armour. He liked the idea but wondered how easy it would be to pull the swords free from they’re homes. Yeah they were curved so it gave it an easier chance but he didn’t know exactly. This thought wrapped around his brain as he looked around more at everything, letting his eyes slow on the breast plates and greaves aswell as the helmets.

“Think I can ask you a quistion without you giving me son kind of answer that will piss me off?” Martyn looked at the guy again. He did not want enemies at this camp but he was starting to guess that this guy was really going to get under his skin if he kept up this, I’m tougher then you so back off, crap. He didn’t put up with people who thought they were better in anyway then others and he would not let this guy even think that he could do it to Martyn. He only wanted to know if any of the cabins had to have certian armour, if it wasn’t that case then Martyn was starting to warm up to a breast plate and helm that looked as if they had recently been forged. The helmet was dark, he wouldn’t say black, and had a black or very dark blue plume that slid down the crest of the helmet like a long mowhawk that hadn’t been spiked. The cuiress was a different story, It had the whole muscle shapes on its black surfice like he expected but it had black leather straps at the bottum and what looked like dragons at the pecks. It was a nice give away to the normal greek armour he had seen in history class and the idea of wearing unique armour was something that seemed more then apealing to Martyn

[Ryan Simons]

I’m impolite and I make fun of everyone
I'm immature but I will stay this way forever
Till the day I die, I promise I wont change
So you'd better give up
I don’t wanna be told to grow up
And I don’t wanna change

~Grow Up, Simple Plan[/size][/font]
Okay, the entire song doesn't fit him, just bits and pieces XD[/right]

Ryan was used to making immediate enemies by now. He had made plenty through his years of Camp and it had become just become normal. Why would this camper be an exception? Everyone just hated him and he hated them right back with no questions asked. He didn't care what people said about him or what they thought about him. It wasn't any of business. He knew that very few people had hopes to change him; most of the Camp just saw him as a complete lost cause. And then there were those who believed that there was "Good in every person" and that there were second chances; they would never be able to with Ryan. He was to stubborn for his own good, he had lost the will to do it, and it just wasn't him. They could try and believe all they wanted. But they couldn't change him into something he wasn't. Ryan was far from a good demigod. He doubted that any goodness at all ran through his god and mortal mixed blood anymore. There was no reason in trying to change things that couldn't be changed.

Ryan eyed the boy analytically as he turned back towards the weapons rack. The random annoying was apparently looking for a sheath for his seemingly "perfect" new weapon. Ryan rolled his eyes. Lucky new campers that didn't have weapons could just come in here and take whatever they so pleased; Ryan had had to work a lot to get his weapons all Kath approved and so called "perfect". All of Ryan's weapons had at least one imperfection; Kath had made him do that on purpose. If there wasn't any imperfection, his weapon was an automatic fail in Kath's eyes. The new boy turned back to Ryan and opened his mouth. The fifteen year old rolled his eyes again. "Maybe," he growled, smirking and giving a shrug. "Depends on you," he growled icily. Sometimes it took a while for Ryan to annoy the Hades out of people, sometimes it took a few seconds. Judging from the boy's tone, Ryan was going to take a guess. He was guessing that he wouldn't going to have to wait long for the random annoying to snap and get angry at him. Then again, Ryan could be wrong. He had ben wrong plenty of times before. It was different with every annoying camper he had the displeasure of meeting.

OOC: There... that post is a bit better ^^
Character Name: Ryan Simons
Mood: Angry
To: Martyn Aris-Son of Hephaestus
IC Word Count: 416
Made By: Ellie Brigid at Olympian Prophecy

Legend:
"Ryan Speaking"
Ryan Thinking
Ryan's Story Thinking

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[martyn]

Martyn shook his head out of agitation and picked up the helmet, examining it from every angle. Now that he had it in his hands he could see the scars of slash marks that had met the helm and left they’re marks. It had seen battle and known its pain, maybe this armor was made for him, he liked the helm and even thought about trying it on but when he turned to look at the other he decided against it for that moment.

“Do the cabins have a set armor they have to wear or do they get to pick?” The question was a safe guard. He wanted this armor that was now captivating him but at the same time he didn’t know if he would be allowed to. If he could he was defiantly taking it out of there wit his swords and maybe even make some modifications so that it was more fit for him instead of who ever wore it before. Though he wondered what it would look like on him and there was always the idea of defense. He needed a shield, but at the same time he didn’t know how that would match up with the duel wielding swords he had picked. Could he actually be able to handle two kinds of tactics at once? Martyn’s eyes glanced over at the shields, it was a good idea to learn defense, it would help him if he lost his swords or he found himself against someone who was all attack like his Kopis were. It was starting to sink in and he liked the feeling, he wouldn’t mind having the ability to keep something between his enemy and him if he needed it. Though the first thing he needed was confirmation. He needed this guy to tell him if he needed anything specific or not. If he did then it was all on what he did need, not what he wanted.

[Ryan Simons]

Ryan rolled his eyes as new Random Annoying boy just shook his head and turned back to the weapons rack. Next thing he picked up? Helmet. No surprise; go figure. He still couldn't believe he was just standing here. Ryan had better things to do than to watch a stupid Camper go on a happy weapon/armor picking spree; this was so stupid. The only reason why Ryan kept himself rooted there, was probably because he had a chance to annoy him; he smirked as the boy kept examining the helmet. Yes, it was sad, but Ryan's goal in life was to annoy the high hades out of people. It was more of a habit now a days, one that he had almost perfected; it had gotten to the point where almost everyone in camp hated him and he hated them all right back. It worked for him; he didn't need anybody. His actual goal was to become a decent fighter and to stay alive in the world. Half of his goal was working: he was still here and fighting. That was all that mattered to him right now.

Sheesh, Ryan liked weapons; they were one of the few things in this entire flipping universe he liked. However, he didn't take this much time to go over them, dang. The boy could of been out there and testing them out by now. The fifteen year old rolled his eyes, unsheathed his dagger and started to sharpen it with his stone. His narrowed grey eyes snapped up as the boy began to talk. Ryan shrugged indifferently. "Don't know; don't care," he growled. Ryan had never taken weapons from here. He had just came in here to repair his. That, plus he wasn't much of an armor fan. Ryan didn't have any armor at all; if he had had some when he was younger, maybe he wouldn't of gotten so many permanent marks on his body. Kath had every single old style weapon one could think of. The only thing she didn't have was armor.

She had taught Ryan how to fight without protective gear on. Ryan guessed that sort of, kind of made sense. He wasn't always going to have armor on in the real world. That, and Kath really wasn't one to really care about his well being. If she was in a position to hurt him, she would without a second thought. She'd just patch him up and then put him in his room. After a certain age, she wouldn't even do that; he was on his own for healing after a few months of lessons. The new demifreak's eyes then went to the shields; Ryan rolled his eyes again. Yet another method that Kath had never had him use.

OOC: o.o Sorry for this wait! I thought my mean Ryan muse had died for a few days there -_-
Character Name: Ryan Simons
Mood: Angry, Annoyed
To: Martyn Aris-Son of Hephaestus
IC Word Count: 476

Legend:
"Ryan Speaking"
Ryan Thinking

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[martyn]

That answer was suprisingly helpful, even if it did agitate him that this guy was being smug on purpose. He picked up the breast plate and through it over his shoulder, slinging a strap over his shoulder so he could hold it there with the sheath’s. The helmet he had picked was held in his left hand by the rim so that he could pick through the shields that he saw to his left. They had all kinds of designs and illistrations on them, some old, from times past and those of ancient greece. Others though had more modern symbols that he suspected were from Demigods who had been at the camp and had forged them. He wouldn’t mind making his own if he had to, even if it wasn’t exactly like most Greek Phalanx shields he had seen. Thing was though what he had in mind was a design that would make fighting easier and still be able to protect the man next to him. The idea was from a design he had seen in a movie about the battle of Troy. Maybe he could actually make it….

The idea was more then enticing and now that he thought about it he probably would build it, maybe test the abilities that his father had passed down to him. He turned and eyed the working area far back from the store room area. He would be able to build whatever he wanted. He could manipulate and work with the metal as his father did. Maybe this was his calling, he would fight but also help others by building they’re weapons for what ever hell fight cam toward them. If he was right then he would be in one anyways, plus he had heard whispers around the camp. Whispers of two renegade Minor gods who wanted nothing more then to bring Olympus crashing down. If what happened was anything like what Craitus had told him about the whole seconds Titan war then they would need as much help as they could.

“Hey, do you work in the forges sometimes?” If this other guy worked in the forges then he could work with Martyn, maybe even help him with stuff that didn’t seem as simple to Martyn.

[Ryan Simons]

Ryan really didn't care if he was annoying the kid. He seldom cared about anything. He cared about training, his weapons and that was it. A smirk flitted across the fifteen year old's face. Annoying was one of his favorite past times besides fighting. Most of his past times, like himself, were negative. Most of the time, annoying a person turned into a fight. It was even more so since Camp was a training place and weapons were easily accessible. Over the years, it was sort of sad, but he had become sort of efficient at irking people. The boy continued to evaluate the new comer with skeptical, fiery grey eyes. The opposite boy was still looking at all the items in the armory like a child in a toy store, sheesh! Ryan had never been in a toy store himself, but Alex had told him about one. From what Alex had told him, most children enjoyed them. He had said that kids get excited around toys like Ryan got enthusiastic around weapons or fighting. That comparison had gotten to the younger boy's head.

He had to admit, all the things engraved on the shields were pretty interesting to look at. Ryan had spent a few days of his life in here. Then again, that had been within the first month of his arrival. He had been looking at all the art on the shields while he was sharpening his weapons. All of it held some Greek history though art; Ryan was better at visual and active learning, so the art on the shields helped him a bit. He was, however, very far from a ancient Greek history expert. Very, very, very far indeed. Ryan would leave all the smarts to the children of the Bird Brian. He knew the major gods and goddess and some vague history of ancient Greece before he had stepped foot in Camp. Kath had made sure of that. While at camp he learned about a few minor ones. All because of Fish Face.

The boy rolled his eyes. "Why?" he growled, glaring at the other suspiciously. It wasn't any of that boy's business if he worked in there or not. Ryan did come in here for his weapons, but that was it mostly. He didn't work here day round, he was mostly in the arena. Some people gave him weird looks while going to the armory. His attitude? That's their problem; he didn't care what others thought about him. He knew that Hephaestus' kids were mostly the ones at the armory, but who wast to say that he couldn't be as well? Every camper had a right to it. Stupid social norms. The boy knew how to make his own weapons, and they had kept him alive. He didn't see any need to change his weapons or methods.

OOC: Sorry for that posting delay -_-
Character Name: Ryan Simons
Mood: Angry, Annoyed
To: Martyn Aris-Son of Hephaestus
IC Word Count: 484

Legend:
"Ryan Speaking"
Ryan Thinking

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