A New Foe (LEAR PLOT, Open, Romans invited)

Evander sniffed slightly as he paced the small room that was used as a council or war room. Hardly anyone was here yet, but the decision had been made to have the meeting at a specific time, with notice to their Roman counterparts to attend the meeting as well.

On the table beside Evander were pictures of Ari, the daughter of Hephaestus. They had burned her body last week after it had been placed just outside of camp. Most of the pictures she looked mostly peaceful, but it was just disturbing. The note left on her body was there as well. The taunting note that bespoke danger to servants of the gods. Now it was time to discuss that. Who this new threat was, how they could protect the camps, how they could protect demigods outside of the camps.

Nestor was there when they cremated Ari, the daughter of Hephaestus, and buried her ashes, or moved it elsewhere, he did not know.

All he knew was that she was murdered. By a new foe.

He decided to attend the meeting, to help bring this murderer to justice. The one who claimed herself/himself to be Lear. Honestly speaking, he didn't even know if it was a he or a she. The name Lear didn't ring a bell. Or it probably did.

He didn't know what the note read. He thought no one did, except the Counselors and Chiron. But that didn't matter. He was soon to find out anyway.

The meeting was due to start in at least fifteen minutes, but he arrived early. Previously, he had nothing to do, and he felt bored about it. So, he decided to jump off his bunk and hurried toward the war room. He thought they started early, and he might have been late.

Turns out it was the total opposite.

The room was still deserted when he walked in.Silence overwhelmed the atmosphere. Ubtil then did he spot another Camper strolling around, while a bunch of pictures of Ari lay on the table, along with the secret note that she left.

Until then did he realize that it was an Ares kid. He readied his hand on his weapon, but he was probably too cautious.

It took him a while to analyze who he was, until he realised Evander Ajax, an Ares kid. Yep. Probably no big deal.

"Hey, came so early, Ajax?" he called out sarcastically.

Evander grunted at the Athena kid that walked in, he straightened up and sized the kid up for a second. "Why wouldn't I come a few minutes early to a meeting? I grew up with the standard of fifteen minutes prior to fifteen minutes prior. Early is on time, on time is late, late is unacceptable." He said, his voice resonating through the room. "Besides, this is kind of important meeting. You're early too."

"Precisely, and to clarify, Evander, it is understandable. I do not see anything wrong of being early. Not a bit. So I hope no insults were taken?" Even when he said that, he knew that Evander might have taken in some insults. He decided to change the subject before the son of Ares gets irritated and seize the opportunity to commit a murder. "So, who do you reckon this Lear is?"

Evander grunted, running a hand through his buzzed short hair. "That's a fine question. Not a monster, I can guess that much. Someone with a grudge against the gods, so probably a demigod, because regular mortals just don't care about the gods anymore, or really believe they're real. Also whoever he is, he knows where Camp is, so he has to be a demigod, right? Maybe a survivor of the Titan war? Of the wrong side of the Titan war. Grudge bearing child of a minor god of goddess is my best guess. Probably a child or Melione or Thanatos, they can be pretty creepy. What I don't get is the sandwich."

"Definitely demigod." he said firmly. "All of the logic points to the same answer." then, listening closely to Evander's opinion, he silently nodded in understanding and agreement, before stating his own.

"I presume that he turned to the Titans, and maybe he had some sort of deep connection with the Titans that when they relinquished, he must have lost everything, perhaps. So now he wants retribution." he paused, processing his ideas before continuing. "However, my guess might be illogical. He must be smart enough to know that scaring the gods by murdering their children is a mistake, a futile one. No, he wants retribution on one of us, perhaps?"

Processing his idea again, Nestor moved at a slow pace around the table, his fingers tapping rapidly on the table before his eyes fixed again on Evander. "Yes, more likely to be a minor god kid. Nemesis is more logical, for she is the goddess of revenge." As Evander told him of the sandwich, he put his hand on his chin and stayed quiet, until he broke the silence again.

"A message. Evander." he slammed his hand on the table. "I believe the sandwich is connected to her somehow. Who is the person she's closest to?"

"Uh, she? Ari? Her girlfriend was the one who found her. That would be the closest person to her." Evander said, shrugging. "What kind of message could a ham sandwich be?"

"If you eliminate the impossibilities, then the rest however improbable, must be the truth." he said, his voice a little trembling, as he slowly strolled around the table, his hands behind his back. Then, his head turned slowly toward the Ares kid.

"I'd say that her girlfriend might be the only one capable of explaining the sandwich." he spoke aloud firmly. "But we can continue the discussion once this meeting starts."

((Is this still open?))

OOC: Yep

((Alright.))

In a grand example of impeccable timing, Ryan Michaels, son of Ares, walked into the room. He stood by the doorway and, not knowing the full reason for the meeting, asked "So I heard a meeting was called?" Ryan hadn't been too involved with the camp beyond his normal activities, so he felt that coming to a meeting or gathering or something would be a good step in the "involved camper" direction.

Nestor turned his gaze to the newcomer. Finally someone showed up. "Ah yes." he nodded, grinning a smile. "Hi. We were just waiting for someone. So,  I suppose you heard of what happened, right?" Nestor questioned. Anyone would've heard about Lear's crime by now. Her murder of Ariadne Hawthorne. It was something that deserved court martial. Just kidding. But if this rate continues, then the gods might just execute Lear, if they ever catch her successfully.

Poland -- Three Days Ago:

"Da...why d'ya gotta be so silent for?"
It wasn't the first time she'd come to someplace quiet to speak to her godly father. It was sure not to be the last. But like the many times she'd tried before, Brianna Niall simply couldn't get a response. Part of her hated them all for it...as though they were too good to speak to her, any of them...Her father Tyr included. As many offerings as she'd bestowed, as many hunts as she'd given to their honor, as many kills as she'd dedicated to their names, and still, there was nothing but silence.

For eleven years, Brianna had been searching for some sign, any sign, outside of the Greek Camp Half-Blood, for her fellow Norse Demigods. She'd already made a temporary space for herself there in the Norse section of the protected camp...but as usual, Niall had become restless, and eager for a definitive answer to her burning desire... Was there a safe place for her own people, the living Norse demigods? So far, there was little more than whispers and rumors. She'd stumble upon one of her cousins or relatives, sure, but no manner of protected place...no place of their own...and the daughter of Tyr would send them in the direction of the Grecian camp. After all...where else did her people have to go? Did Odin and his kin feel so neglectful towards their own people that there was no point of refuge for them to call their own?
There was always Valhalla...the Hotel, supposedly, where the glorified dead went, but that was the dominion of the Valkyrie, and the Einherji...neither of which she felt to become presently. That couldn't be the only way...Could it? Was dying an honorable death in the eyes of their own kind really the only way to stand beside them?

Why were the living denied their chance to fight? Hadn't she proven her bravery? Her dedication? How many enemies had she bested--beasts looking to snack upon either her or any of her demigod family--the unjust and cruel she came across wherever she went--What more could they ask of her but her life? Brianna had taken her father's oath, taken a finger from her own hand--the very same that her father had lost in his own feat of courage and sacrifice--and yet there was no answer from him. There was no answer from anybody. Here, in the mountains, in the freezing snow, she thought she might catch a whisper of Skadi, or even Ullr in the quiet blizzard. But still, as always, there was little more than the winds and the bitter chill to keep her company. Once again, as always, Niall was alone.

Brianna glared just as icily back into the white abyss as it did to her. Where was the sanctuary for her people--the Norse demigods who had no wish to die just yet--where they could prepare in their own ways for the inevitable clash that was Ragnarök? Surely there was a place for the living in this war... Though, she knew better; there was little place in war for the living...even those that survive, have something in them die. Even so, the demigod was more than willing to make that sacrifice...if it meant seeing, or speaking, or even being beside the man who had given her life... The elusive, immortal being whose praise and affection she'd craved since she'd known about him. The hours of research she'd done into her heritage...the years spend honing her abilities and her combat skills, to better her chances of not only living...but pleasing her father.
And yet, so far, it had wrought her nothing.
There was no "Camp Half-Blood" for the Norse. Just the inkling of hope that perhaps, if they died properly, they might be accepted into the ranks of the elite. All this searching, and hoping, and praying, and begging to the gods, and there was no avail.

The young woman turned away from the wintry scene, snorting and shaking her head in her usual disappointed fashion. If there truly was nothing out here for her...then she'd just have to go back and prove her usefulness out in the field. Brianna...was not ready to die. She had no plans on doing so. If her time came, if she had to die in glorious combat, so be it... But she would not go out looking for death simply to see her father. There shouldn't be a reason for it, in her opinion, to ever come to that.


----------- Long Island, Present Day ----------

The lookouts were posted in their usual spots. The Nordling sighed--they could at least change things around to make things less predictable--but she'd been told too many times by sullen Grecian Demis that she wasn't in charge of their security. Brianna very seriously doubted most of these Greek Demigods had lived alone out in the wilderness as long as she had without some satyr babysitting them, but, she was a guest in their home, as much as it pained her to admit it. What pained her more is that, unfortunately, she was bound to the rules of the camp so long as she was within their boarders...she couldn't disobey them even if she wanted to...another 'gift' from her father along with his silence.

"Hold it! Move another inch and I put a hit right between your eyes!"
The daughter of Tyr rolled her eyes. "Aye, and I could'a hit ya from five steps from here, what with your moving up there. Seen better camouflage from a safety cone."
"Oh, great," another one of the patrolling archers grumbled, "It's Niall. Didn't think you were coming back."
"I come and go as I want," the other retorted, stomping past the pair in the trees. "I'm done with what I was doin' if it's all the same t'you."

Little seemed to have changed about the camp in the few months she'd been away...the strawberry fields were still barren with the taste of winter lingering in the April air, and while there were certainly still ample amounts of half-bloods in the area, the tone seemed...strangely quiet, and somber. There were a few Roman banners hanging nearby as well, which made Brianna slightly ill...she hated very few things more than the cowardly Rip-Off-Romans and their snotty demigods. With the red and gold present, it was doubtless that there weren't some manner of them lingering around the place...Strange, though--it was a rare time when the Greeks and Romans were together, and not punching one another in the face. Since that wasn't the overall feeling she was getting from the looks on the faces of people she passed by...it wasn't pride, but grief...
Had something happened on her travels that effected the camp...? And not just the camp....but involved the Romans, somehow?

Her eyes caught the glowing windows of the Big House...the heart of the Camp, and the place where, as she'd been told, big important things happened. It appeared that there were a few of their number that were starting to make their way inside. The Counselor's House with doors wide open to anybody? This was a bizarre occasion...When she'd been here before, Brianna had never seen the Big House so...open. Typically it was restricted to the majority of campers, unless there was some manner of emergency...
Perhaps there was an emergency...?
Upon entering the threshold of the Big House, the Norseling noted the lawn chairs sitting quiet and empty...as empty as the rest of the camp felt. There seemed to be no signs of the camp's managers, the teacher Chiron, and the god of wine, Dionysus...a very peculiar sight--or lack there of--indeed. The Rec Room...supposedly it was meant to be a Rec Room, but had been used for more war meetings and head of house meetings, as she'd been told by some of the veteran campers...was occupied by only three male demigods, sitting around a ping-pong table. Needless to say, she was less than enthusiastic about anything important going on in here.

Brianna was nearly about to leave, and head back to the Norse Cabins, until her ears caught part of a conversation between the beefiest of the group who caught her attention...a blonde lad who appeared just as burly and mean as she did...and a pair of skinny lads. Interesting...for the first time since she'd arrived to this Camp (it seemed as though it had been ages ago...it'd only really been months, when she thought on it,) she felt at least remotely interested in befriending someone.
Ah, but that was for later. She still had to relocate Dmitri anyway...She pained to admit it, but the daughter of Tyr had actually missed ol' Southboy.

"Oi," she grunted, finally making her presence known. "What's all this about?"

The son of Athena gazed toward the door. A newcomer had just arrived. Why was she asking such a question? Didn't she hear of what happened to Ariadne? "Lear. That new criminal, Lear, killed a demigod a couple of days back. We're discussing about capturing the murderer. Or at least find him slash her first. Anyway, you can join in the discussion if you wish."

The son of Cymopoleia was typically a peaceful demigod. He favored things that detailed the small things in life. Whether it was smelling roses or taking a walk, appreciation was something that Dimitri never fell short of. The demigod took pride in befriending others and being a presence for others, his friends meant something to him and he meant something to them. His set of morals were nearly unheard of for most mortals, let alone those of people who had to grow up in the world of the gods. Even with so much unfairness stacked against his kind, Dimitri still valued every aspect of life, and worked everyday to bring people together.

But that was then.

The door to the Big House opened with urgency, revealing a demigod who'd just gotten off the road. The first time he'd been in camp for what seemed like an eternity, and he immediately caught wind of something tragic. Dirt and dust lightly caked the demigod's face, and his brow and hair were caught in a shower of sweat, his hair caught in a messy formation because of it. There was a large scratch under his eye with some blood still around it. Needless to say, Dimitri wouldn't be impressing anyone with beauty today.

"I'm here, I just heard. Update me, please." Dimitri was relatively hasty with his words. He spoke before even considering the situation, much less the people in the room. He'd been relative friends with Ariadne before, and while she was more restless than he was at the time, she had a good heart. Dimitri didn't have a clue where he was when she died, but it wasn't where her home was, and while he didn't blame himself in the slightest, he'd recently come to accept the price demigods payed. Whoever killed Ariadne was going to pay a deeper price.

Dimitri gave a brief nod to Evander and Brianna. He'd wondered how long Brianna had been back to camp, but that was a question for after. Right now, there was work to be done.

Nestor turned to the newcomer. Apparently this guy was away from Camp as well, he thought. Everyone was supposed to have heard of the news.

"A criminal. He slash she was responsible for the murder of Ariadne...somethin'. Sorry, I'm absent-minded when it comes to names. Anyhow, he slash she cals him slash herself Lear. Broke the girl's neck. The blow was either Lear snapped Ari's neck very accurately and strengthfully, or smashed her neck when escaping on something so smooth it didn't create any serious injuries, or Lear hit Ari with something like a club and her neck snapped." he said, full of details.

Dimitri listened closely, but it sounded like everyone was generally stumped, with maybe a few loose ideas here and there. He'd only just noticed Dominika entered the room when she spoke up. It spooked him, but it didn't show in his expression. For a moment he was worried he was seeing things, but she had the telltale signs of being real. He was very hopeful that those days were long behind him, but there was always a hint of doubt.

"A neck ain't that easy to break. If she fell, she's gonna have more injury than just a clear neck break. At least some sorta trauma to her head, probably her back too." Dimitri was a little too close for comfort on his knowledge in that field. With the run in with Truman, Dimitri had been far too familiar with how fragile a neck could be, while still remaining rugged and sturdy. Just the thought of the demigod sent waves of twisted emotion over the demigod. Whoever Lear was, at least they had some kind of code when they did their killing. Dimitri's eyes shifted down, and a deep breath came in through his nose. "But, uh."

"Look, I don't think... 'Snot gonna work out. Keepin' people locked up in here, if you wanna get politically correct, is pretty much martial law. I know I ain't gonna be locked up in my cabin. Some of us need to be out there at least sometimes, it's just a part of life." Dimitri made the argument against Dominika. It felt painfully uncomfortable to debate against her, but even if he wasn't opposing a lock up for everyone in camp, he would certainly oppose it for himself.

"I am interested in the details though, like Dominika said. The answers could be right in plain sight. I only heard a few thangs comin' in. Big House was my first stop." Dimitri explained, railing the conversation to it's original topic being his goal.

"She does have help. I'm sure of it. From who--I don't know." Nestor shrugged. Then he heard the Roman demigod's idea. And the other guy was right: it was like martial law. Feels wrong. "We shouldn't initiate martial law just yet. I've only known about the recent case of Ariadne--" he'd snapped his fingers rapidly. "--Hawthorne. Yes, Hawthorne's death. And it's not just any random kidnap slash murder. Otherwise, why would they send her corpse back to Camp? It's a message." he said. There was no alternative. A kidnapper would often ask for a payment, before killing the hostage and bury them somewhere. Not sending them back. Logic.

"And--how can Lear find us? I mean, aside from being hunted down by monsters, have a godly parent heritage and possesses potentially harmless to mortal weapons, it's hard to find a demigod." said Nestor. "Or are you saying that he slash she has somehow "recruited" monsters? Because that is--kinda impossible." Monsters weren't obedient creatures. They only followed gods and other monsters. Rarely do they ever follow a demigod. If they did, it was for their own good: they would gut the demigod at night and feast him by dawn.

"It's easier than y'think to find a demigod." Dimitri declared, in a sharper tone than his usual form of speaking. "We all live in just two camps. Assumin' this Lear person is a demigod, they have full access to us and all've our secrets. A monster ain't gonna cleanly break someone's neck, and a mortal doesn't have any business in these sorta things. That leaves just demigods." Dimitri spoke surely, though it was almost like the air thickened in the room. If it was a demigod, it could have been anyone. The killer could have been anyone in the camp, maybe even the room. But, the closer the killer was, the better.

Dimitri's expression was more dark by the time he'd committed to talking about the concept of trained monsters. "It ain't impossible. Some've us have seen it before." Dimitri's eyes met with Dominika's for a split second, before he pulled them away. After all, she had the worst scar from those monsters in particular. "There was a kid who I saw, who was trainin' these things like common animals." Dimitri offered a general shrug of the shoulders. "I think he was feedin' them demigods. And that did the trick. Looks to me like they ain't any harder to train than a draft horse."

After the business with Truman, Dimitri wasn't eager about the thought of staying at camp, much less dealing with anything similar. The connection between the two made him sick.

Niall was only half paying attention after one of the lads at the table had told her the purpose of this meeting. A death at this camp, as it was expected, wasn't terribly uncommon...There were always accidents of course, and the climbing wall did have LAVA around it for the sake of the gods... There was that spat between the Gods and the Titans a while back--that second Olympus war--and that had taken more than the fair share of the camp's best, so it was said...

But a murder...
That was the one most critical law, and it made Brianna sick to her stomach just thinking about it...literally. She could feel her insides twist in such a way that even her most brutal of fights couldn't. Killing. It was often considered the very first law ever created... Thou shalt not kill.
And this...Lear...had committed such a crime. The very worst kind.
Eleven years of living outside of any sort of safe place...no barriers, no magic, nothing...and Brianna had only had to kill monsters. Even then, she felt incredible pain when she did so...almost to the point where it felt she'd been turned inside-out...a "gift" from her godly parent for breaking the most important law of all. And so she'd been quite hesitant on killing anything unless she'd absolutely had to. Still, just the mere mention of such a law being broken...it was that feeling all over again. She hated it. There were already tears forming up at the corner of her eyes from the pain.

The daughter of Tyr cracked her knuckles loudly, clearing her throat, shifting her weight as she spoke up.
"This body. She's intact, aye? Nothin' else on it--her-- to show for wounds? If so, t's too clean for any sort o' beast to have hold of her...at least nothin' untrained. It weren't a what that killed this Aridne lass, but a who. Aren't anything I know of bein' out in the wilds s'long as I have that leaves its meals all wrapped up nice. Either this Lear's got some sort o' pull with a certain kind of beastie, or they did the deed themselves, like as none."

It was possible it was a demigod with a godly parent who could control monsters...a Hectate kid, for example, could command an Empusa if they were gifted enough...couldn't they? Niall had no idea; she wasn't particularly well-versed in Greek culture.
Brianna spotted Dmitri over at the other side of the room, and felt the sheer cold in the room lift slightly. So he hadn't gone running off, or worse, gotten himself killed...that at least gave her some comfort at the very least. She was glad to see him, despite the way they'd met the first time, but the situation seemed...improper to do much right now.
Her muscles went tense as another girl, a cold-looking lass with a harshness to her mannerisms, spoke about a lockdown. No wonder security around the boarder seemed tighter than usual...They'd been on high alert after this unfortunate crime. That, with a twinge of bitter realization, meant she wasn't going to be able to move in and out as she liked...then again, what else was she looking for out there? She'd come back for that reason, hadn't she--because there was no other place to go?

Hmph. Guess the lockdown didn't matter, what with nothing to look for. This was her home now...she might as well get comfortable. At least now she wouldn't have an excuse to go out and leave.
"I have to agree with the lockdown, if y'don't mind m'sayin," Niall continued, shrugging. "M'all for freedom, but safe is safe, aye? Better t'have gripin' campers than dead n's. Might want to think on withdrawin' from demigod hunts too, or at least increase security on em...who knows if that Lear fellow's not targeting everybody? No offense, but a Saytr might not be a match for what or whoever killed our lassie. An' doubling up on patrols...buddy system n' all that. Make the shifts shorter n' so they can get more rest. Get some of the Hectate kids to put some hexes up n' all, maybe warn our boarders up in advance just in case somethin' comes back around? This Lear can't be that good...."

Rubbing her chin furiously, she trailed off, glancing back at the table as she chewed a strand of hair in her mouth thoughtfully.
"Speakin' o' which...how many ways can a mortal get into this place? Assuming they even are...Maybe narrowing it down might give us a place to start fightin' back? Give us some kind o' clue as to manner an' motive? If we can figure out how they got in, might not be a need for any sort o' lockdown..."
She shrugged at Dmitri's comment on the demigods living in only two camps.
"Not all of us live in camps lad, trust me. If a hollow-headed lass like me can manage it s'long as I did, it's easy to see that someone else could do it just as well. S'possible that they could have some kind of lair hidden off and protected well enough from any sort o' beast that might want them as a snack...or they could have help from a vengeful parent, y'never know. Gods're funny like that...tend to hold grudges."

Eleven years. Eleven years on the outside, alone, with no camp and nobody else to protect her. Brianna was more than educated on keeping things she didn't want near her, very far away. A lifetime of being prey was more than enough to give her experience on finding whatever was hunting her...and ensuring it didn't come back for a while. Whoever or whatever Lear was, they were a killer with purpose. They had a goal, and they had the means to obtain it...they simply had to set the conditions. There was no doubt in her mind that this corpse was meant to get a reaction out of them. The trickwas deciphering it. Perhaps they meant to instill panic, or force them to get tighter on their security. Either way, doing nothing was not an option. If they had killed, they had left some manner of trace to give them a clue as to how...perhaps not why...but it was a start. Knowing how was the first step to understanding the means of this killing...and that was part of understanding how to beat them.

Funny. This was probably the longest she'd ever spoken to any person, let alone a group of people, since before she'd learned about her father's...particular bloodline. The daughter of the Norse law god was not the chatty type, but this was actually an area in which she had some experience...wouldn't be the first unfortunate, accidental corpse she'd had to deal with--monsters were just as keen on eating regular people as they were anything else. But this Lear was a whole new breed of monster.
And even if it were just a small contribution, Brianna was going to help find this Lear...and bring him to justice. Maybe this was her chance. Maybe aiding in this would finally get her father's attention. Maybe, just maybe...he'd finally give her some sort of sign. In any case, this girl deserved her revenge. She deserved Justice delivered to her killer...and by the gods, if it were in her power, she would certainly get just that.

"It don't matter where the stragglers are. It matters that there's two ripe trees for pickin' the fruit from. 'Sone of the biggest rules of harvest; pick from the trees first, because more apples could always fall down until there's no more left. Only then should you seek the ones that fell." The analogy wasn't the prettiest thing, comparing apples to lives. "But I am stickin' to believin' Lear's a demigod, like us. Maybe a nymph or a satyr, but they had to know to send her body back here. The only people that know about here, all I can think've are demigods and their loved ones. I don't really think her parents really did this. The killer had to know about Camp and be skilled enough to kill someone smoothly." Dimitri concluded his theory.

Dimitri was starting to feel like he wasn't going to win on the topic of a lockdown. At the end of the day, would that really be so wrong? It would stop others from dying. The demigod generally stood for others, but he knew this one was for himself. "It could've been any one of us." Dimitri agreed. "But we all know the risk we take walkin' outside those gates. If y'all want to commit to closin' those gates, I won't argue. It could save a lot of good people from losin' their lives. But you can't close those gates until I'm on the other side." Dimitri ultimately decided he'd learned survival outside much more than survival inside. He was ready to live out there. But, in the moment, Dimitri wasn't ready to live in Camp Half Blood. Everything was still far too twisted to pretend things were okay.

Even now, Dimitri couldn't shake the connection between Lear and Truman. "I'd rather be out there, tryin' to find this Lear person. The sooner they're dead, the sooner everyone can sleep again." The sentence was so far out of character for the demigod, much like the rest of his behavior since his parents were killed. He'd once seen all life as so precious. But ever since Truman had his parents killed, he'd began seeing life for much less than ever before. Dimitri's heart plummeted for miles, he nearly regretted saying it, but he knew he said it for a reason.

The last time someone was doing this, he didn't take them as a prisoner either.