Chapter 01
A Functional Guide for Demigods
written by Chance Pierce
My name is Chance Pierce. I'm a son of Ἀπόλλων - yes, that Ἀπόλλων. Yes, the gods are real. I'm what's known as a Demigod. If you've found this journal, you might as well hang onto it. Or throw it away. Whatever. If you've managed to read this much, then chances are you're a Demigod like me. Or you're just really into reading random notebooks off the street. That's cool too, I guess.
This journal contains the collected knowledge of my encounters with the gods, other demigods, and various monsters in my life. I'm writing this journal so that, when I die, what I have learned can be passed on so that you can avoid some of the mistakes I've made. Note that I said 'when' and not 'if'. Being a Demigod generally means your life expectancy is very lacking. We tend to die young. Usually in terrifying and nasty ways. Sorry about that.
The upside is that there's a camp for people like me. Like us? Camp Halfblood. Located in scenic upstate New York, it's a safe place for Demigods to live mostly in peace doing normal Summer Camp things like archery, arts and crafts, or climbing a rock wall with real, burning lava. The place is run by the gods, and the current camp director is the god of wine himself, Διόνυσος. Rumor has it, he was sent there by Ζεύς to dry out as punishment for some indiscretion.
Of course, if you're like me, then the idea of wasting away at a summer camp probably isn't your idea of a good time. I'm what's called a 'feral' Demigod. Not the greatest name, but it beats 'homeless and destitute'. It's considerably more dangerous to live out in the mortal world, but I get by. I have my wits, a long, sharp knife, and the closest thing to a best friend and sister-from-another-mister, Isabelle Basset. She's a daughter of Ἑκάτη, goddess of crossroads and magic...
"Chance, what are you doing?" asked an irritated voice. Chance looked up from his journal and into the chilling green eyes of his travel partner, Isabelle Basset. "When you said you were going to take first watch, I expected you to take it more seriously. Instead I find you scribbling in that journal of yours."
"Hey, calm down," Chance tried to reason, closing the book and holding up his hands placatingly. "I've been keeping an ear out and, wouldn't you know it? Nothing. I told you before you went to sleep that this place is safe as..."
He was cut off by the sound of a low, menacing growl coming from the shadows just beyond the dying firelight.
"Gods dammit," he muttered, grabbing up his long knife as Isabelle tensed. "Stay behind me and see if you can work some of your mojo."
"It's magic," she hissed, moving behind him. "And you know I can't properly control it."
"Then you should have a weapon," he retorted, going over the same argument they'd had countless times in the past.
She didn't respond this time, choosing instead to mentally prepare herself for the coming confrontation, which Chance supposed was for the best. The growling grew louder as the dark shape of a black mastiff the size of a grizzly bear burst out of the shadows, it's red eyes promising a painful death.
"Hellhound!"
Hellhounds, known as the guard dogs of the Underworld, are generally considered "Bad News" for demigods. As these huge dogs have the ability to travel through shadows, the best thing to do is find some place well lit and hide out until it decides to leave. Do NOT engage at night.
Chance tensed up, his knuckles white as his grip tightened. "Um, isn't your mom supposed to have something to do with dogs?" he asked, lashing out as the hound approached.
"Regular dogs, yeah," Isabelle muttered. "But that's a hellhound."
Chance stepped forward to engage, trying to keep the monster's focus on him, "Well can you at least..."
"I'm trying!" Isabelle snapped, "C'mon... Lumos?" It came out as a question. Nothing happened.
"Lumos?" Chance snarked, dodging a mighty swipe of the beast's left paw. "What are you, Harry Potter?"
"Not helping," Isabelle glared angrily at the back of Chance's head and something inside her seemed to click into place. "Get down!" she shouted, and without further pause, she held a hand out toward the hellhound and uttered a single word, "φωτίζω".
A burst of light as bright as the noon sun washed over the small clearing, shredding into the hellhound, causing it to collapse grievously wounded. Not wasting the opportunity, Chance rolled forward and finished the beast with a clean slice across it's now exposed throat, rendering it nothing more than a pile of golden dust.
"Seriously, though. Lumos?" Chance asked, turning to look at Isabelle incredulously. "That Harry Potter stuff is totally fake."
"Says the son of Apollo, who just killed a hellhound wounded by magic," Isabelle said with a huff, placing emphasis on the last word.
"Whatever," Chance groused. "I'm going to bed now. Since you're up, you can take second watch now."
"Actually, we should probably move camp somewhere else now. No telling what else might show up if we stick around." Isabelle pointed out.
For a moment, Chance looked like he wanted to argue, but decided against it. With a tired sigh, he nodded and began packing up the sleep gear.
AN: Hey, thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed it. This story follows the main characters which are my OCs in the PJO-verse, but there will eventually be some familiar faces showing up here and there.
Translations:
Ἀπόλλων: Apollo
Διόνυσος: Dionysus
Ζεύς: Zeus
Ἑκάτη: Hecate
φωτίζω: Illuminate