Home
Gallery
Search
Register
Log in
by Hugh Laurel 12/27/2014, 2:10 pmHugh Laurel
Male
Seventeen
Irish (Native to North America)
Demigod
Son of Hecate
Warlock
Seventeen
Irish (Native to North America)
Demigod
Son of Hecate
Warlock
Appearance
Brown eyes, stands 3 inches above the sixth foot, very skinny (pseudo-malnourished), pale skin, black hair.
Brown eyes, stands 3 inches above the sixth foot, very skinny (pseudo-malnourished), pale skin, black hair.
Personality
Hugh is silent and distant to most other campers simply due to his deformity. He is extremely timid and prefers to keep his face concealed beneath a cloak's hood or behind closed doors. He has no faith in the kindness of others, as he has seen so much false benevolence that he is convinced it does not exist. The young magi is literally socially crippled due to his physical one, and he prefers to spend his time behind old scripts or tomes. He helps the camp when he can by organizing his own miniature library of personal texts he's traded for or collected throughout his years after discovering he was a demigod.
His shyness, deformity, and social ineptness are obvious flaws, which he can't balance out with many personality 'pluses'.
Hugh is silent and distant to most other campers simply due to his deformity. He is extremely timid and prefers to keep his face concealed beneath a cloak's hood or behind closed doors. He has no faith in the kindness of others, as he has seen so much false benevolence that he is convinced it does not exist. The young magi is literally socially crippled due to his physical one, and he prefers to spend his time behind old scripts or tomes. He helps the camp when he can by organizing his own miniature library of personal texts he's traded for or collected throughout his years after discovering he was a demigod.
His shyness, deformity, and social ineptness are obvious flaws, which he can't balance out with many personality 'pluses'.
Capabilities
Warlock
The user is able to mix items of sentimental, physical, or magical properties in order to create an essence of a spell, curse, or other magical enchantment. These can be temporary or permanent in design, and an "essence" can take on many forms. An essence of fire could be a small object that can channel fire magics through them, etc. Items are expended when this technique is used. This power is a combination of vast knowledge and divine guidance to understand the Arcane, so it is no more draining than a child of Hephaestus crafting a weapon. It, in turn, takes just as much time, depending on the magic crafted.
Mist Weaving
The user originates from the Mother of the Mist, which gives him some more extreme control over it versus what a demigod can normally command. He is able to rip it away or lay it on thick, even for beings that can normally pierce through the mist, such as monsters or other Demigods. By nature of this ability, he is only affected by the Mist if he desires to be, and his abilities are automatically seen through by children of Hecate. Minor glammers don't tax the user as much as larger illusions. The more targets, the more concentration and stamina required.
Language of Magic
Due to his godly parent's nature, the user speaks and understands Latin by nature, as it is the most mystical and magical language.
Unveiling the Arcane
The user's most draining but powerful ability - he is able to draw upon the ancient power of his godly Mother and preform feats of actual magic: this can involve, but is not limited to, conjuration, balls of fire, and spacial trans-location. His abilities are limited to the arcane components he has available, a composed verbal component, and assistance from his mother in order to use the actual magic.
Language of Death
As the son of the Goddess of Spirits, Hugh can see and communicate with the dead, even call upon their assistance.
Cursed
This Son of Hecate was bestowed a terrible curse in exchange for a stronger connection to his godly abilities. His physical features are contorted, disgusting, grotesque. Even with the most powerful magic, the heaviest mist, his face is always abhorrent - however, non-mortals can never be deceived of his appearance if they are viewing him. A mortal, such as humans or demigods, would (at best) see a face with droopy eyes and long scabs embedded in his face. Because of his life-long use, however, this Son has great control and stamina when using his abilities. Even in a family of Hecate-born demigods, he could be considered a pedigree.
The user is able to mix items of sentimental, physical, or magical properties in order to create an essence of a spell, curse, or other magical enchantment. These can be temporary or permanent in design, and an "essence" can take on many forms. An essence of fire could be a small object that can channel fire magics through them, etc. Items are expended when this technique is used. This power is a combination of vast knowledge and divine guidance to understand the Arcane, so it is no more draining than a child of Hephaestus crafting a weapon. It, in turn, takes just as much time, depending on the magic crafted.
Mist Weaving
The user originates from the Mother of the Mist, which gives him some more extreme control over it versus what a demigod can normally command. He is able to rip it away or lay it on thick, even for beings that can normally pierce through the mist, such as monsters or other Demigods. By nature of this ability, he is only affected by the Mist if he desires to be, and his abilities are automatically seen through by children of Hecate. Minor glammers don't tax the user as much as larger illusions. The more targets, the more concentration and stamina required.
Language of Magic
Due to his godly parent's nature, the user speaks and understands Latin by nature, as it is the most mystical and magical language.
Unveiling the Arcane
The user's most draining but powerful ability - he is able to draw upon the ancient power of his godly Mother and preform feats of actual magic: this can involve, but is not limited to, conjuration, balls of fire, and spacial trans-location. His abilities are limited to the arcane components he has available, a composed verbal component, and assistance from his mother in order to use the actual magic.
Language of Death
As the son of the Goddess of Spirits, Hugh can see and communicate with the dead, even call upon their assistance.
Cursed
This Son of Hecate was bestowed a terrible curse in exchange for a stronger connection to his godly abilities. His physical features are contorted, disgusting, grotesque. Even with the most powerful magic, the heaviest mist, his face is always abhorrent - however, non-mortals can never be deceived of his appearance if they are viewing him. A mortal, such as humans or demigods, would (at best) see a face with droopy eyes and long scabs embedded in his face. Because of his life-long use, however, this Son has great control and stamina when using his abilities. Even in a family of Hecate-born demigods, he could be considered a pedigree.
--
Hugh's only non-godly related talents are his moderately exceptional swordsmanship skills.
History
Before he came to Camp Half-Blood, Hugh was still a deformed 'freak', he just didn't know why. He was born.. ugly. Doctors couldn't find a genetic reason behind his deformity, calling it 'just bad luck'. The way his skin was set and his muscles bound, it was surgically inoperable. Still, Hugh's father raised him with love and care. As a man of some wealth, but not immensely rich, he was able to placate his son's desire for knowledge by purchasing old tomes (that he could afford). His father was always aware of his son's lineage and his eventual destiny, so when he was nine, his dad took him to Camp Half-Blood. Normally, a mortal couldn't be there for the whole trip, but Hecate had given his father the general location in a dream and drove there. Once Hugh was in eye-sight of the camp, no amount of Mist could conceal it - the rolling hills and strawberry fields, the amazing depth of the entire camp ground. He hadn't the slightest of what the place was or why he had to go.. he was 9. But his father told him to go, and he was Hugh's only friend, so he went. And as his father drove off, he cried, the tears tracing down his hideous form.
Roleplay Sample
In the cabin, alone, again. Hugh sat in the wooden confine, slouching over a steel cauldron that contained an acidic concoction. Bubbles gave off a soft pop and let loose a slight spray of the mixed ingredients; frog's tongue, dragon's breath, ghoul-flesh, and the eye of a cyclops (something he obtained obscurely and probably against camp rules). The eye lay in the mixture, floating, staring lifelessly. A few murmurs in an arcane tongue were spoke into the pot, which seemed to inject life inside the eye. An eyelid grafted around the ocular attachment as it began to look around, blink, in its new found sentience. The liquid it was immersed in suddenly swelled away from it, then, just as quickly as it fled, it crashed into the eye, infusing with it perfectly until all of the liquid was gone, the inside of the pot completely dry. Gingerly picking up the over-sized eye, Hugh mumbled to himself, something akin to 'this will be a good watchful eye'. Stepping to were a wall appeared to begin inside the cabin, he waved a hand and the image dissolved, revealing his lonesome bed. Getting on his toes, he placed it directly over his headboard, high up, so that he had a protector while he slept. Other campers tended to be spiteful tricksters that weren't trustworthy, so he needed to be on guard. Looking at his work, Hugh let out some relief with a barely audible 'sigh'. Then, in an almost practiced movement, he twisted his body and flopped on his bed, grabbing a book from the shelf directly by his bed, and began to delve into a world more mystical than his own. It seemed escapes were still useful when you lived in a fantasy. Old habits must die hard, Hugh figured.
"And so once upon a time...
Before he came to Camp Half-Blood, Hugh was still a deformed 'freak', he just didn't know why. He was born.. ugly. Doctors couldn't find a genetic reason behind his deformity, calling it 'just bad luck'. The way his skin was set and his muscles bound, it was surgically inoperable. Still, Hugh's father raised him with love and care. As a man of some wealth, but not immensely rich, he was able to placate his son's desire for knowledge by purchasing old tomes (that he could afford). His father was always aware of his son's lineage and his eventual destiny, so when he was nine, his dad took him to Camp Half-Blood. Normally, a mortal couldn't be there for the whole trip, but Hecate had given his father the general location in a dream and drove there. Once Hugh was in eye-sight of the camp, no amount of Mist could conceal it - the rolling hills and strawberry fields, the amazing depth of the entire camp ground. He hadn't the slightest of what the place was or why he had to go.. he was 9. But his father told him to go, and he was Hugh's only friend, so he went. And as his father drove off, he cried, the tears tracing down his hideous form.
Roleplay Sample
In the cabin, alone, again. Hugh sat in the wooden confine, slouching over a steel cauldron that contained an acidic concoction. Bubbles gave off a soft pop and let loose a slight spray of the mixed ingredients; frog's tongue, dragon's breath, ghoul-flesh, and the eye of a cyclops (something he obtained obscurely and probably against camp rules). The eye lay in the mixture, floating, staring lifelessly. A few murmurs in an arcane tongue were spoke into the pot, which seemed to inject life inside the eye. An eyelid grafted around the ocular attachment as it began to look around, blink, in its new found sentience. The liquid it was immersed in suddenly swelled away from it, then, just as quickly as it fled, it crashed into the eye, infusing with it perfectly until all of the liquid was gone, the inside of the pot completely dry. Gingerly picking up the over-sized eye, Hugh mumbled to himself, something akin to 'this will be a good watchful eye'. Stepping to were a wall appeared to begin inside the cabin, he waved a hand and the image dissolved, revealing his lonesome bed. Getting on his toes, he placed it directly over his headboard, high up, so that he had a protector while he slept. Other campers tended to be spiteful tricksters that weren't trustworthy, so he needed to be on guard. Looking at his work, Hugh let out some relief with a barely audible 'sigh'. Then, in an almost practiced movement, he twisted his body and flopped on his bed, grabbing a book from the shelf directly by his bed, and began to delve into a world more mystical than his own. It seemed escapes were still useful when you lived in a fantasy. Old habits must die hard, Hugh figured.
"And so once upon a time...
Last edited by Hugh Laurel on 12/27/2014, 8:57 pm; edited 1 time in total
