A/N: To make it easier to differentiate between regular words and Aspects, from this point forward we will use the three-letter abbreviations when we mean the Aspects.

Mind Mnd | Body Bdy | Breath Brh | Soul Sol | Arcana Rkn

—Pincoat

P.S., That chapter selector still sucks.

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PERCY
Lvl. 16 Raider

"I was a Strategist before I classed," Annabeth said as the newly formed trio worked their way towards Lydia's boat. They moved quickly, weaving through empty alleys and bustling streets—bearing closer to the docks but never heading directly there. In the face of her easy confidence, Percy had little trouble deferring to her leadership within the city's sprawling maze. Grover was still limp beside him—no longer wailing and boneless but barely better—still having to be half-carried to match the brisk pace the Saboteur set. He didn't stop to think about Asterix yet, he couldn't even begin to imagine Grover's pain. So instead, he reaffirmed his decision. If he was unable to give his friend comfort he would settle for bringing him vengeance.

Annabeth drew to a stop at a bustling corner close to the waterfront and pointed out a shouting woman with dull red hair to Grover. After he whimpered his recognition the blonde turned back towards the captain and her pristine ship.

"I have a plan, but it's very important that you do exactly as I tell you… Perseus, are you alright with that?"

"Don't call me Perseus," he replied reflexively, still focused on the snake wearing a woman's skin. Tearing his eyes away with notable effort, he continued, "I prefer Percy. And yes, I'm okay with that. What is the plan?"

"You let me worry about that, all you need to do is rush in, loudly, attract as much attention as you can and I will take care of the rest, got it?" Annabeth looked away before he could nod. "Wait here, count to three-hundred, then go." She stepped in stride with the bustle of the crowd. "Remember, stick to the plan," she warned, before disappearing from view entirely.

Percy scowled. "What plan?" he muttered, before kneeling next to Grover's slumped form. "Grover, you're gonna need to come with me, okay? I can't imagine our exit being very smooth so it's best if we stick together." His friend stirred and nodded shakily, his breathing gradually evening out. Percy thumped his shoulder and started counting.

"One-hundred ninety-eight, One-hundred ninety-nine, two-hundred." Percy finished before turning to face Grover, "You ready?"

"Weren't we meant to count to three-hundred?" Grover asked quietly, his voice scratchy and dry like he'd been gargling gravel.

"What difference does it make?" Percy asked, rolling his eyes.

"About a hundred count."

Percy snorted and refocused on their target. Grover was cracking jokes. It was a good sign. "Are you ready or not?"

He nodded once, his glare burning holes in the ship's hull.

At his affirmative reply, Percy clutched a coil of rope he had found and stepped out into plain view of Lydia's ship, Kleo. Walking steadily towards the water's edge with Grover half a step behind him, he scanned the crew. The random assortment of Sailor and Worker classes had armed themselves in the intervening time. They seemed to be preparing for a hunt of some kind.

Annabeth said she needed a distraction, so for maximum effect, he and Grover approached the ship stealthily—to catch them by surprise. When they reached the ramp Percy dashed forward, taking large strides and hopping on deck in seconds. He pushed aside a confused Oarsman to make eye contact with the Wrangler.

Percy's concentration turned inward as he brushed past his Sailor skills for the newest addition to his arsenal. Killing the hounds in Montauk had given him his Class, and with it, his first Raider Skill.

It was immediately obvious that Gather Dread was distinct from his older Skills and entirely unrelated to his Passive. The words attached to it in his mind were hardly comforting: 'The horns of battle forewarned hapless victims of their inescapable doom.' As descriptive as ever. He supposed it couldn't be helped, not when he'd gained the ability after slaying literal beasts from Hades. Percy had no idea what to expect—he hadn't had the opportunity to test it—but whatever the 'horns of battle' were, they sounded like they'd be a pretty good distraction.

He activated the Skill and everyone in his immediate vicinity recoiled as though just noticing a wild animal in their midst. When he made eye contact with the woman in charge he started running his mouth with all the half-assured confidence he could muster.

"Hey, kunops! Yeah, you! You hurt my friends, I hurt you." The captain took a moment to look him up and down, clearly unimpressed with what she saw, before her gaze moved to Grover shivering behind him. Her face twisted into an ugly sneer and she snapped her fingers and pointed toward them.

"Well boys, looks like our friend is back, throw 'em belowdecks, and make sure they don't get out this time." Her lackeys jumped to it, having moved on command like puppets. The first one that got near, a burly Deckhand, walked straight up to him before he tried to grab him. Percy took one step to the side and threw a wild punch that slammed satisfyingly into his scruffy cheek. Percy grinned savagely as the man toppled onto the wood, knocked completely unconscious. Lydia, although clearly taken aback, barely paused before she snarled out for the crew to attack.

In an instant, Percy was punching his way through an all-out brawl. He was torn between forcing the fight in Lydia's direction—eager to introduce the smarmy Wrangler to his fist—and staying by Grover. He glanced back and was surprised to see the normally-timid Grover holding his own. The Farmer had backed up toward the edge of the vessels and was frantically holding back the swarm with a stack of unpainted plates. Where he got them Percy had no idea.

He was throwing them like discuses and having quite a bit of luck. As they shattered against the crew members' heads, shards of pottery flying into eyes and boxing ears, their superior numbers proved to be their downfall as the volume of assailants got in their own way. Abandoning Lydia for now—her time would come, there was nowhere for her to run—Percy attacked her minions from behind. He dropped more than a few of them by kicking at the backs of their knees before taking sweeping hits at the defenceless fallen.

Percy dropped the length of rope he was carrying and let it uncoil as it fell, the knots he had put in it across its length allowed him to activate Trimming. The skill had come in handy more than once, it originally developed after long hours on Ermis' skiff and allowed him to tighten or loosen rope between two knots. The skill, already invaluable for sailors, had proven its worth in combat against the hellhounds. In the days since then, messing around with a piece of twine—which for some reason still counted as 'rope'— had led to his current plan. He had divided the rope at equal intervals with tight knots with Knots and with the fine control of Trimming he had, for all intents and purposes, grown a third arm.

The rope swept out like a whip and wrapped around several men at once. Percy yanked on the rope harshly, an exertion of will snapped it even tighter and brought three men crashing to their knees. Just as Percy made to knock them out he was tackled from behind, as he fell to the deck his forehead cracked painfully.

Percy strained and threw the press of bodies on top of him aside. Stumbling to his feet, he wiped a hand across his eyes to clear the blood dripping down his forehead only to catch a rampant fist to the stomach. The wind was knocked out of him and it was all Percy could do to wheeze and pant while the crew grabbed him and started tying his wrists behind his back. As he struggled and squirmed trying to escape, the other half of the horde of sailors that had survived Grover's ammunition grabbed him as well.

Lydia smirked as he and Grover were brought before her. Held up off the ground by the much larger crewmates, Percy's kicking and screaming became ineffectual. The captain bared her teeth, her smile becoming more shark-like. Gods, he wanted to punch her in her wretched mouth.

"Well now, see, isn't this much nicer. There's no need for viole—" Percy spat directly in her eye and cackled as she recoiled. The smuggler wiped the glob off her burning, puce skin.

After studying the mess in her fingers for a moment, Lydia reached up and whipped her palm across his face. His spit splattered across his cheek and rolled down his chin. Slightly dazed from the blow Percy missed the captain stepping forward to grab his chin; the sharpened tips of her nails dug roughly into his skin as she manhandled his head to face her.

"Why is it…" pinpricks of pressure built along his jaw as she squeezed, "... that each and every jumped-up, wannabe, baby-faced Hero thinks it is the height of comedy to spit in my face? Hmm? Well?" Grover craned his neck towards her and started to hawk his throat. Before the Farmer could launch it however the two men holding him up by the arms yanked him back far enough that the swirling projectile of phlegm and spit landed with a 'splat' on the deck.

"Because you're an ugly metrokoites who looks like cow droppings!" Grover's pain seemed to have been forgotten fully in a flurry of rage and his oldest friends started to thrash and writhe. Not one to be left out Percy drove his heel into the foot of the man on his left. The Boatswain released him with a howl of pain and staggered backwards but before Percy could follow through and drop the man everyone on deck froze.

By the expression on his face, Grover was equally confused, but answers could come later. Percy grabbed him by the arm and led him through the crowd. He was at least cognizant enough to realize that staying as they were—surrounded by enemies—would be a poor decision. He didn't know what had petrified the crew but it seemed absolute; the Boatswain he had kicked was no longer clutching his foot but standing unmoving and blank-faced as a statue. He pushed past the half-dozen-or-so men, Grover stumbling behind him to keep up; Lydia's crew could come back to life just as quickly as they froze and he would prefer they be well on their way if they did.

Clearing the mass put him and Grover at the perfect angle to watch Annabeth holding a small, straight-edged knife to Lydia's throat. The Saboteur was unruffled from her exploits, save for the noticeable increase in her breathing. Clearly, whatever plan she had devised had worked out though because held in her second hand, pointed away from the smuggler, was the celestial bronze kopis that she had said was worth a significant fortune. Its value was even more apparent to him because of the scene playing out just a few bēmata away.

Annabeth had her side faced towards the captain to present a smaller profile and had tucked the sword behind her. Lydia was visibly straining against the point of Annabeth's dagger as she leaned forward, the smuggler's face twisted into an utterly alien amount of worry. The kopis grabbed his attention like a net and refused to release him. Percy didn't have much experience with swords, the weapons were soldier's tools and Montauk had been mostly Farmers, Fishers, and Hunters. The closest he had ever been to one was when Luke would arrive at their lessons wearing his xiphos from his army days on his hip. Luke had never let him touch it, being very particular to keep it on his person at all times but had drawn it once to let him get a better look. The short sword, which the ex-soldier had described as standard-issue, was still a gleaming length cast bronze but the nicks along its edge and the raggedy hilt wrapping spoke to its age. There was a history in it, one that spoke to hardship and strife, yet an enduring dedication, very much like Luke he thought.

The kopis in Annabeth's hand was nothing like that or anything he'd seen before, not even the knife from Luke—the one he'd so foolishly bartered away— could compare. The kopis was roughly two podes long and shined as if it was freshly made, every piece of it looked chiselled out by a master sculptor, from the bronze drop-point tip to the darkly lacquered ornamental horses that made up the guard. The sword was so clean it looked unnatural, almost ethereal. How could something so… perfect be a cast-off, abandoned for its low quality. When Annabeth's movement caused the sword to shift enough that it caught the sun Percy nearly went blind. Where daylight shone off the kopis it burned with an inner fire, looking every dactylos a divine weapon.

"Give… Give that back." Lydia gasped out, the knife at her neck drawing a bead of blood as she leaned farther forward

"Oh, this?" Annabeth asked innocently, slightly shaking the sword with one hand as though it weighed nothing, "Hmmmmm, no… I don't think I will." The blonde twisted her wrist suddenly so the edge of the blade faced Lydia's rather than the point and lunged forward. The smuggler stumbled back to avoid the edge but lost her footing and collapsed backward on her behind. In a flash the knife disappeared, having been sheathed… somewhere—it happened too quickly to tell— and within another moment Annabeth herself was gone, leaping over the side of the ship back onto the docks and breaking into an all-out sprint.

Lydia recomposed herself quickly and started after the Saboteur immediately, she drew her own cast iron short sword and called out over her shoulder as she bounded down the ramp.

"Grab those two, the rest of you with me! We can't let her get away." Unfrozen suddenly the crew split itself down the middle and obeyed the captain's orders. As the latter half of the men streamed off the deck and the former portion made to surround him and Grover again Percy was struck with a burst of inspiration. Percy focused on Trimming and Knots simultaneously and felt a sharp tug in his gut as he forced the ship into action. Ropes lashed out from his arms, tying themselves onto the spare coils dotting the deck and the rigging. As the ropes twitched into action his mind stretched out, the fibres clawing out around him like grasping fingers. The twinge in his abdomen faded to a persistent dull pain but he powered through it and continued to keep his Skills active. Soon the web he built had stretched across the entire length of the deck, a piecemeal mass of writhing hemp that connected the entire ship to him.

Sweeping his arms out, whipping the lines still attached to his hands, Percy surrounded the remaining men in rope and pulled. Altogether they must have weighed more than the hellhounds that had attacked Montauk because dragging them forward was noticeably harder but Percy was able to guide them over the hatch in the centre of the deck. Another small rope snaked out and lifted the latch on the metal grate before the large looping net neatly shuffled the crew over the hole.

As the crew's screams rang out Percy sent multiple threads down the opening until the hole looked like the mouth of a sea monster. His faux arms ripped open the iron bar door separating most of the below-decks from the animal cage, shattering the heavy lock with sheer force and pushed the crewmates through. The din of shouting men and the screeching and roaring of animal life emanated as a wall of noise from the hatch but Percy forced himself to ignore it, and the growing numbness in his chest to Knot the door shut with a buntline hitch.

He staggered to his knees the instant he was done, from the time Lydia had run off to the sailors being shut into the cage it had probably been less than half a minute. Knots and Trimming weren't very intensive skills, he could often use them without even thinking most of the time, but he had never pushed himself to move this fast before. He felt like he had been out with Ermis for hours since the break of dawn, hauling in heavy nets and rowing a laden sloop, rather than just standing still and moving some ropes around.

Even as he knelt before the hatch, Percy panted to try and regain his breath. He would definitely feel that in the morning—Skill Exhaustion was no fun in the best of times but wearing out his Sailor Skills called for rope burn and aching arms in his future. Grover rushed out from behind him. The Farmer pushed against the falling hatch to halt its progress and started to clamber down the steep ladder.

"Percy! Ma Dia! There's a lion down there, you can't just throw them in." Grover called back from most of the way down. Percy was too tired to care at that point, he had washed his hands of Lydia's crew and dragged himself to his feet to see about getting the ship moving. Wincing at the expected pain, Percy activated Knots and Trimming again and almost screamed at the liquid fire running down the veins in his arms. Pushing past the agony took everything he had, if his Brh was even a point lower it would probably have been beyond him. Painfully, he managed to bring Kleo off the mooring and set away into the Gulf of Corinth.

Grover joined him around twenty minutes later, Kleo's progress hadn't been very impressive due to the lazy breeze but Percy's skills and knowledge make up the difference. Grover slumped to the floor and sighed, curling himself around his staff for support—he must have picked it up after the chaos ended. The Farmer took a moment to look out across the water but Percy studied his oldest friend instead, the loss of Asterix—Zeus, that had only been an hour ago—was still etched into him, apparent in his grief-stricken features. Grover started talking after another pause.

"It was a close thing, but I managed to stop the lion from mauling any of the Sailors with Pacify. We'll have to let them out you know? We can't just keep them locked up, the men or the animals." Grover said while rubbing his eyes. He eventually started watching the lines dance along the spars, trimming the sails to best catch the weak wind.

"I know… We can stop near the coast and set them free. The men are fine, though? No weird freezing?" Percy questioned, eager to keep talking now that his friend was finally engaging. Grover was awkward and shy, but he was never really quiet. It bothered him more than he cared to admit.

"No, whatever Lydia did seems to have worn off. They're all just kind of confused, huddled in a corner trying to avoid the lion." Grover shuddered at a memory, probably something about the smuggler. Percy remembered Grover muttering about some strange effect the captain had on him while they were sneaking towards the ship.

"That was weird, I've never seen a skill that strong. It must have been Sol related, like those old stories where tyrants used their evil souls to command their armies." Percy allowed himself a smile when Grover chuckled, probably remembering the same cosy fireside stories his mother had told after dinner at their cottage. The image of a wide-eyed Grover and Percy staring wondrously at his mother as she wove fantastic tales of heroes and kings and monsters sent another stab of heartache through his chest. Percy grit his teeth and adjusted the rudder oar to lean the ship toward a faster current.

"I have," Grover interrupted his thoughts, turning away from the constantly shifting lines to face him. "Seen a skill like that, I mean." The Farmer gestured towards the sails, "All this… it's not normal, Percy."

"This is what I always do. Ermis has me sail while he handles the netting," Percy defended. "What do you mean 'not normal'?"

"Well…" Grover shifted in place, seemingly uncomfortable with the now-confrontational tint to their conversation. "We're Kakoi, Percy, commoners… peasants. The things you did: today on the ship, back at Montauk with those monsters, it is weird."

"They're just my Skills, Grover—"

"Exactly! Just Skills. Percy, there are Sailors in Lydia's crew, Hades, there are probably men downstairs who have the same Skills you do, Knots and Trimming right?" Percy nodded in agreement, still struggling to see where his friend was going with this. "And yet, even if they've had those Skills for years longer than you have, there isn't a single person down there who could do what you did."

Grover stood suddenly, the conversation having energized him enough that he started to pace. Moving back and forth across the small width of the ship the Farmer began to wave his arms around as if he was physically wrestling with his thoughts to make his point. "I never been out with you and Ermis before but I'm not the only one in Montauk who noticed that you had far more success than you had any right to."

"Wait, wait wait, what do you mean 'far more success'? We went out every morning for hours, just like all the other Fishermen. Our haul was barely average across the board compared to the rest of the village."

"Yes, but don't you see Percy!" Grover abandoned his frantic pacing for frantic gesturing in his friend's direction, "Other people were out on the water in groups. Five, six, maybe more! Actual Fishermen doing their best for hours and yet somehow you and Old Man Ermis can keep up with two sailors and his tiny skiff."

While Grover continued on Percy's train of thought was derailed by a moment of clarity. He ignored his friend's panicked rambling and reviewed his memories. Grover was right, it didn't make sense that they were able to do so much. That Ermis spent a month training him to sail and then left the, still green, child to handle the skiff while he concerned himself with the fish. It didn't make sense that Ermis had tolerated him when no one in the village would give him another thought because of his birth, and it was almost blatantly suspicious that Ermis was able to get by with just himself and a kid while other crews were over thrice as big.

Percy remembered the particularly dirty looks from the other Sailor when Ermis' skiff came in with a big catch and wondered how much of that was being a bastard and how much of it was being… unnatural. Grover's voice peaked and he turned his attention back to the pacing Farmer. His friend seemed to be winding down but the obstinance in his voice remained.

"Kakoi Skills do Kakoi things—that's what my father always said—they do normal things, the whole point is to give peasants a shortcut to things they can already do, like with me and Harvest, it just lets me get the most out of farming. I could get the same yield if I tried, but it'd take a lot more time and resources I don't have. It's technically possible, just difficult. But you… this," Grover flailed his arms in the direction of the rigging, "That's impossible man. I've never heard of a single sailor who could… strangle monsters with ropes like some weird octopus."

Grover fell back down on his behind, apparently having reached the end of his energy. He laid his walking stick across his lap and traced the decorative carvings along the shaft with his fingernail, something Percy only saw him do when particularly anxious.

"I'm worried, man. First the Punisher back on Montauk, now this." Percy reached a hand out to grip Grover's shoulder, wondering what he had done to deserve such a friend. In terms of what he was saying... Ermis must have realized that he was different, and selfishly kept it to himself, but without the work the old man had provided, Percy and his mother would likely have starved. The Raider pushed his newly-conflicted feelings for the aged Fisherman aside, it wasn't the time to think about… everything. His weirdness had existed for years, it could wait until he had his mother back.

"I know… that I've always been strange, I mean. And that the past few days have been… insane, but thank you." Grover nodded tightly, but before he could respond he hopped to his feet and ran to the port side.

"Hey, is that…?" Percy looked in the direction and was just about able to spot a flash of light on the coast. Annabeth, her hair trailing in the wind, was several podes into the surf. As the water lapped around her knees she waved the kopis back and forth slowly, bouncing the sunlight towards them.

As Percy steered them as close to shore as possible, Grover threw the rope ladder overboard and moved out of the way as a thoroughly soaked Annabeth hauled herself over the lip. After fixing her sheets, the blonde Saboteur smiled at the two of them.

"All according to plan. Nice sailing, Perseus." Grover spluttered in indignation, heavily contesting the existence of any plan. Percy scoffed, similarly doubting that their success could be attributed to anything other than stupid luck.

"It's Percy, we've been over this." Annabeth nodded understandingly.

"Of course, Percy… here," she flipped the kopis to grab it by the spine, offering him the ornamental hilt. "If we're going to Hades you'll need to replace the dagger."

PERSEUS

Lvl. 16 Raider

Aspects

Mnd: 24

Bdy: 47

Brh: 42

Sol: 28

Rkn: 38

Passive: Shorelegs

The ground feels unsteady; instantly adjust for full movement.

Skills

Knots: It's said that a practised hand can tie a proper knot in an instant. A true sailor doesn't stop honing his technique until he surpasses this legendary expertise.

Trimming: A masterful sailor can control his ship as if it was a muscle. Rather than shaping the sail one line at a time, he can adjust them all without ever leaving the helm.

Gather Dread: The horns of battle forewarned hapless victims of their inescapable doom.

Glossary

Bēmata — The pluralised form of Bēma, 'Pace': Ancient Greek unit of measurement, five [5] podes.

Dactylos — Ancient Greek unit of measurement; Analog to the inch, Sixteen [16] dactyloi per pous.

Kakoi — The lowest caste of society, as determined by someone's Settle (Farmer, Miner, Server, Worker or Sailor); Comprised of the non-land-owning working class; Literally meaning 'Peasantry'.

Kopis — A short, single-edged, forward-heavy sword used for powerful blows on the battlefield; Famous for severing limbs.

Kunops — A derogatory expression; Literally meaning 'female dog'.

Ma Dia — A generic exclamation; Literally translating to 'By God (Zeus)'.

Metrokoites — One who has relations with their mother.

Podes — The pluralised form of Pous, 'Foot': Ancient Greek unit of measurement; Equivalent to the foot.

Xiphos — A short, double-edged, one-handed sword, commonly used as a secondary weapon by soldiers after the javelin; Often described as having a 'leaf-like blade'.

A/N: Hello hello, I hope you are continuing to enjoy Rescue as things heat up plot-wise. I'm pretty happy with how this chapter turned out. There's some action and the first real signs of world-building sprinkled in. As the story progresses we will, of course, learn more about the world the characters inhabit. For such an ambitious project the minutia is crucial so please let us know what you think in the reviews.

Happy reading :)

—Boots