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Mikhael Kravchenko, Son of Asclepius
Location: Infirmary
Interaction: Lukas and Elias

Mikhael nodded in response to Lukas. Lukas had a good sense of administration and leadership; there was no better person to be the one to lead the whole Infirmary thing than him. He was good at leading, instructing, and... well, is not as abrasive to wrongdoers as Mikhael; if Mikhale was the one that was doing the position of being in charge of everything, it probably wouldn't go very well, as he was just so, so strict, just as he was when he was still living amongst his mortal family. "Yes, yes, and yes. I'll get you a list within the next two hours, and then we can run them by Mr. D after we deliberate the whole thing in the next admin meeting. After all, someone's gotta be there as first aid response... and it happens quite often." He was clearly referring to the incidents of people getting knocked off the tower by their opponents; sometimes, they hit their heads, or worse. Luckily, there was no shortage of healers to make sure that no one died or something.

"As for the medicine of the questers, I can make the things that you have spelled out. I believe I still have enough ingredients to make them with... hold on, I'll check..." Mikhael looked down on his i-pad, checking his inventory, which he keeps up to date every time he takes something out or in. "Yup, I can make some more for the quest."

Oh, yeah. The quest. Erin had been accused of stealing the Dove of Aphrodite. What would a daughter of Hades want with the Dove of the Goddess of Love anyway? Stuff just gets weird here in Camp Half Blood.

Now, though, Elias came in, butting. He was looking for Octavia, it seemed. Mikhale couldn't recall what relationship those two had; were they friends or something more? He can't remember anymore.

"Da, Elias. I had spent most of my time today in the laboratory making medicines so... I don't have a good idea either. But as Lukas said, we'll help you take a look around. If that's fine by you, anyway."

Azariah Kravchenko

The Bone Sea

It would seem that some people in the area were not too pleased with the presence of the Exusians and their guests in the dusty hellhole of the Bone Sea, as one could guess from the Bone Clansmen that were pouring into the encampment, wielding swords and spears tampered by furious malice and hatred. These folks feared and hated magic in all of its forms; there was no greater exemplar of the arts of the witch as the Exusians, who had a whole city and society that revolved around magic. The Clansmen, it would seem, had enacted s raid upon the hated witches...

And whoever the hell would dare conspire with those that practised sorcery as freely as the wind.

Once the delegate was run through with a spear and her blood began to seep through the desert sands, Azariah drew his sword, entering into a defensive stance, his eyes watching the incoming shadows and silhouettes of those that sought to kill everything that moved in this camp. "Unkempt barbarians, fearful and ignorant of magic..." Had he the advantage of distance and terrain, he would try to conjure a snaking bolt of lightning to strike down these disgusting, smelly, and foolish sand eaters, but the tent was soon to be an all encompassing melee; any second spared to speak the words of magic could be his last.

And so, as Artur told him and the 'spearwife' to rally by his side, Azariah put two of his fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly. It was the kind of whistle someone made when calling a familiar or a pet to their side.

A few agonizing moments passed before there would be any response to the whistle of calling. In these seconds of truth, a Bone Clansman charged towards Azariah with his spear, perhaps recognizing him as a spellcaster due to the strange coloration of hair he had for such a young lad, or the slowly darkening hue of his skin. Wielding his sword of masterfully forged steel, Qzariah sidestepped to the right, dodging the charging spearman before delivering a strong punch to his face, sending him staggering backwards. Karlezek were deceptively strong, as their small stature held the supple strength that they used to build their cavernous halls and mansion etched into the innards of mountains.

With the spearman dizzied, Azariah lunged forward, striking him right at the heart with his sword. However, another Clansman raised his axe above his head, preparing to bring his fury and hatred down towards the Karlezek... only for two sets of long claws, each with three razor sharp blades, to protrude out if his chest, taking out the life out of his body as he tumbled forward, landing dead and facedown on the desert sands. On his back, a certain devious creature; no, thing pulled out its claws. A small and nimble magishell, having been called by its master unto his side, had entered the fray, with a tear on the gent's fabric revealing from where it had entered. The magishell was seemingly proud of its bloody handiwork, tapping its sets of claws in front of Azariah.

"Dasrovya, droogie." Azariah spoke to it in old Karlezekian... and it climbed unto his hands. Its joints glowed with the shimmering sigils written unto each and every one of its moving parts, turning an otherwise inanimate suit of armor into a deadly killing machine. Those who knew the Karlezek and their magic would know that the magishells were no little thing, even if they were small. They were often made from metal, wielding razor sharp blades that thirsted for blood. Karlezek magi always had one of these machines close by, ready to spring into action at their master's behest.

And now there will be a lot of killing.
I'm... Interested...

Azariah Kravchenko

The Bone Sea

"I am Nakala, it is... nice to meet you," The woman introduced herself before she held her tongue at revealing the exact nature of just why she's here. It was just not something that she was willing to share, far too personal. Far too private. "I am just a wandering warrior looking for a home to finally settle." It was likely not that convincing, but one couldn't fault Nakala for lying because, from a certain point of view, it was no lie.

"Surprising to see a Goliath around these parts..." Azariah looked up and down at Nakala's titanic frame, craning his head while doing so as he was just a little dwarf compared to her. If he kept on doing this, looking up to her this way, it won't be long before he gets a stiff neck. "Because... you know, you lot usually live in the colder places of the world, right? There are some in the place I come from, though the numbers have dwindled over the years."

Karlezek and Goliaths never had the best relations, and the paranoid of the Enclaves had forced many Goliaths that once inhabited their mountains into the hot desert, where they would slowly die out due to it not being the best environment for the giant humanus. This lady though didn't seem to know about that, or perhaps she thought he was human as he had yet to revert to the natural light purple greyish hue of a Karlezek's skin.

"Wandering warrior, huh?" Azariah rubbed his hands together, not noticing that he had gloves on. "Well... I'm just someone looking for a better life without any strings attached."

"Is everyone okay with that? These terms cannot be negotiated."

It would seem that the Queen wished to meet all of them in person, in order to tell the whole mission at hand. And she'd throw down anyone that annoyed her. "I accept these reasonable terms." Azariah didnt have any problem with it; after all, anyone that had an audience with Karlezek Lords and Kings would have their weapons taken for the time being to avoid any assassination attempts. The Queen of Exusia probably just wanted to ensure her safety.

"Looks like we get to see the place for ourselves." Azariah said to Nakala, though this time he didn't look up, as his neck was starting to hurt. "Even for just a while."
Azariah Kravchenko

The Bone Sea

It had been quite some time since Azariah had left the mountain realms of the Karlezek Enclaves, at first riding on the back of a gryphon that lifted off from one of the numerous balconies that dotted the surface of the mountain, under which the vast underground city of Mithras was located. There were dozens more like it, though the glory and splendor of the Karlezek had shriveled up in the wretched times that had passed ever since the Cataclysm that shattered the world. After a bit of flying, he'd land in the Karlezek outpost that stood the farthest away from their subterannean realms, commissioning a pair of ponies to carry the supplies that he needed in the journey to the Bone Sea, above which floated the titanic city of Exusia; his dream destination. The only place to be

He would then travel all the way to the deserts that graced the surroundings of the flying city, his beasts of burden and himself protected by a magishell made from forged steel, which ran through the dozens of sigils written on each and every joint, spring, and cog, carrying a silent sentience and an unsleeping, watchful eye. After some time of travelling alone, he would eventually join up with a caravan of travellers and traders headed to the south. They travelled along a road that hugged the coast of the Bonewater; a stream of pilgrims all seemngly headed towards the most glorious realm in the land.

Glorious... and wealthy.

Azariah was always the kind to forge ahead in self determination. He did not want to be directed by others, at least if it isn't something he wants to do; as such, he had left Mithras, carrying with him an invitation that would allow him a life of wealth while avoiding the responsibilities of being the Lord of a trading guild in the Karlezek Enclaves. Such a position was luxurious in its own way; but the risks of being murdered in one's sleep by rivals were great, and in addition to that, he had to get together with someone he barely knew. What was her name even? Azariah couldn't remember.

Finally, after what seemed forever, Azariah arrived in their destination. Exusian soldiers allowed him to pass into the camp when he showed the invitation, letter, whatever the hell it was. This was the place, of that there, there was no doubt. Heading to the large tent as the soldiers instructed, he'd sooner step into the office of the person in charge.

Azariah lowered the hood of his green cloak; a keepsake from home. He'd soon notice that he was looking up at everyone else in there so far, especially the giant woman that stood just a little to the left. His sword was hidden inside a sheath slung on his back; the ponies were tied to a post outside, and both of the magishells were well sequestered in bags on the back of the small horses. The tome that his master had given him was also kept hidden on the bag that he carried, though Exusians did not fear magic, other people did, and if those others knew what he was, they would burn him for being a witch.

Ah, well. It's not like all the dangers in the land can be combatted with swords and arrows alone.

With the woman telling them to wait, Azariah... waited. If one were to look at him, he'd look deceptively human, though the light purple hue of his Karlezek race would slowly seep back in the longer he wasn't standing under sunlight. One might think he was going to faint, though.

With nothing better to do, he would whisper to the giant of a woman that stood rather nearby. "So... what led you to accept this invitation to almost certain death?" Azariah coughed. "Ehem. How rude of me... I'm Azariah Kravchenko. I supposed we're for the same thing... and if that's the case, it would be better to get to know each other..."

Corvus Helstrom, Son of Khione

Location: Cabins
Interaction: Greyson, Anyone in the Pavillion

"Ohhh... that's a relief." Corvus sighed in relief as Greyson made it clear that his little mishap with the grease laden hand wasn't something he was going to be bothered by. At the very least, he wasn't going to show it. But that was as good as anything for Corvus. After all, the last thing he wanted was someone in the camo to be too annoyed at him. This was a small place, and in such a small circle, it would be better to keep oneself well acquainted with everyone else, and keep a good relationship with them at the same time. Half bloods ought to stick together, after all.

Greyson then said that there was going to be no need to worry about Erin and her quest to redeem herself from everconsuming hellfire, as she has begun to gather people to help her in the journey. "Right... backup." Everyone knew that he could become a cryophoenix at will, so maybe that was something good for being backup.

And of course, a bunch of others, mostly boys, were coming with Erin. Brandon, Tyler, the sons of Thanatos, Dorian, and Spencer... all to disprove that Erin had done something wrong.

Sure enough... their little talk was going to go to an end, as Greyson she promised to meet... someone. Who was he an item with again? Corvus wasn't sure anymore. Memory was spotty right now. "Ah, yes, you were going to the stables, right? Right, okay, um, I'll catch up with you later too, then. Corvus winked back at Greyson, smirking a bit as he looked towards the direction of the Pavillion. "Yes, I'll go and see... have a good talkk with... whoever it is." Corvus would then quickly transform into his little phoenix form, flying over towards the Pavillion. He could have walked... but he's feeling a little lazy today.

Mikhael Kravchenko, Son of Asclepius
Location: Infirmary
Interaction: Lukas

"Another day, another dollar, more broken bones, whoops." Mikhael walked back into the infirmary, a clipboard on one hand and a pen in the other. He had been busy keeping track of all the sicknesses and injuries that the people here have been enduring. He was perhaps one of the most meticulous record keepers in here; a befitting trait of a son of the god of medicine.

But, with such meticulous attention, comes a bit of attitude. Of course, anyone who stops to think about it knows that Mikhael is this way because he is very much concerned, but he could be... a little abrasive if someone is a little bad at their job. Rule number one; don't do medical mistakes in front of him.

One of the first things that Mikhael saw as he came in was a novice, who was doing a pretty poor job at venipuncture at a boy. The one who was getting injected had a sweaty face, one contorted with pain while making not one sound in an effort to not make a scene of screams. "Hey, Andreas, was it...?" Mikhael looked over the novice right after he was finished, wearing a face that spoke of... disappointment. "I've taught you this twice already... look at his face, chyort. He looked like like he is going to pop a blood vessel in the brain from trying not to be loud..."

Mikhael sighed. "Be thorough next time." He then disappears back in this self made laboratory, where he concocts medicines and potions out of herbs and other ingredients. He was, after all, a medicine maker. That was his thing.

An hour later, he'd come out, carrying several vials of liquid and then several plastic containers, which contained tablets. They were labelled appropriately, and it wouldn't be long before these were pressed to use, what with emergencies happening almost everyday here.

And, perhaps out of sheer coincidence, he'd bump into Lukas.

"Hey watch- oh, hey, it's you." Mikhael's tone quickly shifted from one of slight irritation to that of someone that was somewhat pleased to meet someone else. "Many emergencies and stuff today, eh?" Mikhael spoke with a marked Russian accent, though it had been tempered by his time here in Camp Half Blood by quite a bit. "Say, I think we should up the safety standards of the... games. And such."

Finbarr Callaghan

"Well, well, well, look at what we have here..." Finbarr looked into the figures behind each bar, deeply hoping to find a familiar face from the Star Marines in there. The way he walked while inspecting the cells at Jan's invitation spoke of confidence and power; the proud stride of one that commanded with an iron fist. This was very far from the truth, though, as he was possibly one of the most well mannered out of the Star Marines, having refused to be tampered by the bloodshed of conflict and the terrors of war. And yet, here he was, pretending to be someone he was not. This kind of acting was supposed to be his career after all those years in the subterranean city in Titan... but he would just get dragged in here, infused with magic derived from grounded up crystal people.

"So, that's the cell for the guest of honor, huh." Finbarr pointed towards the rather prominent cell in the end of the hallway, coated with a great many fortification and primary and secondary systems of technobabble that prevented the artificial intelligence within from simply migrating to the ship's system. It stuck out, as it was pretty big and had an awfully larger amount of lights all over it.

There was this one thing, though. Someone has been talking in the cells. Of course, they all talked one time or another; but this one was just... annoying. He had a funny way of saying things, and... well, the guy got a pretty heated response from someone in the cell right above him.

After disembarking from the elevator, Finbarr walked towards the source of the noise... and surely enough, there was the guy that just kept babbling on and on, much to the others' irritation. And then... on the floor above, there were these two, who had anti-magic collars on, which meant that they were the Star Marines that Jan was talking about.

Maybe he remembered them. Maybe not. Or perhaps they remembered him. Or no, as he was shapeshifted at the moment. "So it's them? The famed magic kids?" Finbarr asked Jan with a voice with a slight tone of disdain, as if he was a commanding officer finding a bunch of deserters. "Hmm, you got a name, eeeh?" He looked straight at Alan's soul as he asked his name. "And is the man below bothering you?"

Eleazar Nikolavich Diaz-Sapohznik

The sweet aroma of grilled meats had begun perforating the air with great pleasure, mixed in with the somewhat burnt odour of used charcoal. Grilling was no easy job for one person, not with these many customers holding out their plates and waiting for their turns to get a barbeque, or a steak or a burger patty and whatever else. Eleazar glanced towards his sister, who had taken to making French Fries with a portable gas stove. Those were good too... and would probably get wiped out within thirty minutes, as high schoolers had titanic appetites for greasy food.

In either case, Eleazar would find the guy from Liberty that Cael was clearly very happy to meet hold out his plate, asking for a burger.

"Of course, monsieur..." Eleazar would then take a well grilled steal off the grill with a gripper, and with decent speed, slap it in between two burger bread slices with sesame seeds on top, as well as melted cheese and a healthy serving of ketchup. "You want this to have mustard too?" He asked Christian that much, because some people weren't fans of mustard. Hopefully he was, otherwise he'd be missing out.

It wouldn't be long before another person came in. A girl... and she seemed to know Spike. He didn't know her, so she was probably from Liberty. Either way, she was saying things about getting a burger and a hotdog, which immediately piqued his interest.

"Well, well, I've got melted cheese slices here along with the meat, so just say what you want to get!" Carefully taking a hotdog, he then looked over towards Tyler, and then at Spike. "So it's gonna be a burger for Spikey, and a hotdog for... what's your name? Mines Eleazar. You can call me Elea... or Zar. Anything works as long as it makes sense with my actual name."

To start, all four of you are accepted.

@The Man Emperor Now, I kinda feel like he has a bit too many abilities + equipment tbh. He's a great swordsman, has a magic sword (which is kinda vague as to what exactly it does), and he's an accomplished magician. Probably my big thing is the latter because you don't go too much into the rituals and stuff needed to cast these spells. Look at Hazel. I kinda want people to have one niche if you know what I mean.

I'm gonna grab some food and get to everyone else later.

Ok fixed wa
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