Benjamin Oliver Anderson, Son of Boreas

Name: Benjamin Oliver Anderson by birth, at your service. My mom calls me her little Snowman and always tends to grin in a sad way, but if you dare to call me that, I will punch you. My friends tend to call me "Bones" for the amount of times I ended up in the hospital with cracked bones following stupid dares. My older sister tends to call me Doofus though I think secretly she means the great and all mighty Brother.

Gender: I am male. I know that there is talk in the world (heck, in all my classrooms at school) about genders and bi and whatnot. I honestly don't care about all that - I am 100%, undeniably male.

Mortal Parent: My mom, Sophie Charlotte Anderson, was in college in New York, attaining a bachelor in Creative Arts when she met my dad. From what I have always been told, it was not a meeting both parties wanted. My mom left home to Sydney, Australia only to discover that she was pregnant with me. It devastated her and my grandparents since they came from a rather religious, conservative branch of old immigrants. For a bastard child to be born was a stain on the old, family honor. Deciding to keep me, my mother had to pull out of university in New York, staying home and preparing for me. After my birth, she started a yearlong certificate program of journalism in Sydney, meeting my step father James Williams Parker during her internship at his rivalry company.

James was the co-founder and CEO of a New Zealand publishing house, cooperating with various print newspapers at the time and an annual conference brought him to Sydney. Upon meeting Sophie Charlotte Anderson, he could not forget her, eventually showing up to her house. As the story goes, he left immediately, shocking my mom and making her lose hope, only to return with a huge stuffed animal and a big box of chocolates with mint, my favorite. Within two years, they were married and James has adopted me as his own, constantly letting me achieve my dreams.

God Parent: Ugh, not my favorite subject since I am often compared to him but since you ask....My father is Boreas, Lord of the Northern Wind, the one who brings winter.....or summer? Living exactly on the other side of this world makes it difficult to switch the times and seasons and whatnot. In any case, I guess biologically I am the son of Boreas.

Date of Birth: January 13th, 2000 (Yes, I am sixteen, turning seventeen soon)

Place of Birth: Royal Hospital for Women, Sydney, Australia

Hometown/Last Residence: Well, hometown and last residence are two different questions in my case. Let me explain. My sister and I both grew up in Auckland, NZ just outside the city in the large manor that my stepfather build. With rolling hills, a private pool, a barn down the street and anything we wanted, it was quite a fairy-tale to live in up until we took a family trip to San Francisco to drop off my sister Sam at school. Then things got weird, Sam and me ended up in a camp called Camp Jupiter. Sam fit right in but me....well, guess I didn't.

Race/ethnicity: Born in Sydney and growing up in Auckland makes me a rather patriotic Kiwi....I have some roots with the Roman Catholic church though I do it mostly to please my mom and the grandparents.

Accent: Hobbit.....Alright, alright, Kiwi. Or Aussie. Really, it's mostly Kiwi with a slight Australian hint to it. Certain slang from both countries does appear in my dialogue like "mate".

Skin Tone: Well, I guess it should be something typical of a Boreas' son - snow white or whatever. But since I spend all my time in the sun, currently I am covered in a tan many supermodels would kill for. Though unlike those princes (or princesses? Who can tell?), I earned mine through laboring in the sun every day at the stables.

Eye Color: Deep blue like the northern sky where the Northern Lights dance. From a distance, they can be mistaken for a dark brown, almost black. In the light of the stars, you can see hints of similar accents reflected ever so slightly there. Don't ask me how I know - that's what you get for growing up with an older sister.

Hair Color: Blonde.....Dirty, straw colored locks. I mean, I'm a guy, that is the most I can give you! You want detail? Talk to some of the airheads at the barn who own quarter million dollar horses but are too scared to get a little dust on their boots. They will be happy to talk fashion none stop.

Hair Length: Sam? Sam, wanna take this one? No? God, thanks sis. Alright, well. Hair length....um...guess its long enough to get in my eyes so when I ride, I need to constantly use a bandanna to keep them out of my eyes. Mom keeps telling me to get a haircut but the girls seem to like it so who am I to say anything?

Height: I stand at a well balance 5'11" for you Americans. No, I don't wish to be taller, I am rather happy with how I am now.

Weight: Not a beauty pageant! I mean, even the Horse and Pony Magazine didn't ask this many details. But alright, I'll tell you. I am 175lb, weighed in at the last competition I was at. The last few weeks may have made the number fluctuate a bit with all the running and trying to survive.

Body Type: Well, I don't know there mate, take a wild, wild guess.....Athletic may be a good call. After all, someone who spends half their time in the saddle and quite a few hours doing chores is bound to gain the muscles.

Appearance: I can proudly claim that my sense of fashion most certainly does not come from my older sister. If Sam had her way, I'd be sporting suits and ties every day - talk about feeling like an overdressed poodle. No, I tend to have a much more classy look to me, as classy as one gets when they spend most of their time around horses. At the barn, I wear the typical breeches and tall leather boots of the finest quality, with polo shirts or long sleeved shirts. On cold days, a New Zealand national jacket joins the ensemble.

Sam is bugging me about talking more than just about my "manure infused" outfits. Really, she is quite down to earth but in her pretty dresses and -- OW! -- Alright, fine. When I get to school, I tend to look more of a slacker if that is possible in a uniform. With a slightly unbuttoned shirt and a loose tie, hair somewhat messy and a battered school bag, I can't say school is of much importance. It drives my parents rather crazy but I get by with the grades.

ALRIGHT! Jeez, don't you have college admissions or something Sam? Alright! When I am a "regular old chap", I sport designer ripped jeans, black classical converse, t-shirts and a plain hoodie, unzipped, sleeves pushed up past the elbows. Sunglasses stay and can be pushed up to serve as a temporary "bandanna". I don't bother keeping my hair neat especially since I usually run my hand through it when I am thinking. My nose is a bit less than perfect, a souvenir from my first real fall on a cross country course. My left pinky is crooked from being snapped in two places and I have had my right arm broken before though that doesn't ruin the lovely image standing before you.


Weapon: Well, I usually would argue that as a gentleman, I need no real weapons however, recently I have been proven otherwise. After briefly visiting Camp Jupiter, I was given a bastard sword to use of Imperial gold (whatever that is). Though someone there tried to explain that Greeks used Celestial Bronze, these kind Romans wouldn't let me and that horse to embark on our road with no weapon. Thus, I am now stuck with a vain Pegasus and a golden watch I wear on my right wrist. By turning the frame counter clockwise, the sword appears in my hands. Creepy? Got that right.

Armor: Leather armor, currently a strange cross between Roman and Greek but comfy enough. Quilo constantly thinks its rather heavy and tries to avoid carrying me with it. Stupid horse. At least I was able to hide it under my hoodie while travelling from Camp Jupiter to New York City.

Pet(s): I got stuck with him. Honestly, this was NOT my idea, apparently it was a cool new gift from my biological old man. Quilo is a Pegasus that seems to be someone's idea of a joke. To add to it, for whatever reason, I seem to pick up on his mood swings rather well. Standing at a rather short 15.3 hands (all my eventers have been at least 16.1) with a rather strong neck and a Romanesque head, he resembles some Roman over-sized pony with wings. Dappled grey, he loves being wooed over and loves attention. Seriously, I never thought to be stuck with someone like him.


Skills/Talents: Well, lets try to figure this out. I am a quick learner and a fantastic problem solver. My ability to stay on the back of most animals (I have tried bullriding) is quite extraordinary. Naturally athletic, I am very good at snowboarding and running, not to mention my squat form. I have been told I could do well with a sword but not much training there (someone at Camp Jupiter also mentioned knife throwing). Due to my heritage, I am good to withstanding extreme weathers, especially the winter and picking up on my horses' emotions. Not much of a language buff, I do have an eidetic memory.

Flaws: Competitive, I never back down from a challenge which causes my mom to go nuts. Most importantly, I can be quite rude to those who disrespect me. I claim it is a protective reaction, Sam says I am just an flax-wench. Unable to lie, I will be blunt as well though I see it as a strength (no Sam, not delusional). I tend to be possessive of my stuff - people and things - and can be over protective, almost suffocating. I am unforgiving and am ready to murder anyone who mistreats animals. Ambition can become obsession and I can become hyper-focused on a certain goal, alienating me from people. As some cruel joke because obviously, what could be funnier than mild asthma in a wind god's child, I tend to hyperventilate when I am stressed, usually when extremely nervous (sometimes pre competition) or extremely exhilarated, sometimes post adrenaline rush. Also, due to my broken right arm, any change in weather, extreme changes rather, make it more numb and less nimble than usual, reducing my coordination, a real pain.

Strengths: Undeniably charming, obviously. Honest to the bone and ambitious. Generally, I protect those weaker than me and I am loyal to my family - my real family mind you, mom, James and Sam. I can be considerate to people I like and have all the manners to talk to the press. Hardworking and dedicated, I always achieve my goals.

Weaknesses: Well, friends is not something I manage to keep around - rivals are no problem. Perhaps it is because I am so competitive - I cannot bear to be second best in things that matter to me. I cannot dance nor sing - campfires are brutal. Since coming to camp, I have also understood that archery is the most boring lesson here, right after anything to do with water. I block out pain and people through cold exterior and extreme dedication to my tasks, almost to an OCD level. I can be a perfectionist, especially in my riding, ignoring the world around me and trying to achieve my goals. This can lead to me missing the big picture sometimes, something my coach insists I should be focusing on. Oh, yeah. I don't like to read....Sam thinks that's a weakness.

Likes: Well, horses obviously! You don't aim to make the Olympic team if you don't love it - the animals feel that and don't respond. Then again, if it is Quilo, I doubt anyone would be up to his standards. James, my stepdad, brought me up to be a gentleman and I do enjoy treating my few crushes well, bringing them to the movies, star gazing, dinner. Cooking is fun once in a blue moon but only if it's spaghetti. My stepdad and I love hiking and since I was small, we managed to go all over the two islands on trails and camping trips, both on foot and horseback. Recently, I started liking motorcycles though my mom nearly faints each time I bring it up. For my birthday, I made Sam promise to come bungee jumping with me, an initiation right among my buddies, can't say my sister was much excited about that. My family is very important to me, all but my Godly father. Don't get me started on my Netflix binge - Doctor House is one of my shows.

Dislikes: My mom's cooking. I don't want to be mean but it is quite atrocious, thank goodness we have Mary who takes care of the household. Otherwise, wearing suits and smiling for blonde girls at the cocktail parties and having them giggle. Those who are afraid of challenges and puzzles, those without a dream. Oh, and don't get me started on those who complain about the cold! I mean, really? Suck it up, buttercup! Rain bothers me as do boats but I will handle it. I hate backstabbing people and I dislike people who want to be my friends for the money or whatnot.

Fears: You want to know? Alright, I fear water. There, I said it. Beach time is nice but god forbid I go into the deep end. I fear doctors and needles, perhaps a childhood fear but Sam is the only one who can persuade me to even get a check up. I hate failure, most importantly I hate being second best in things that matter to me.  The thought of loosing my family....

Personality: I don't know how people would describe me. Frankly, I am not 100% sure how I would describe myself. I guess it is fair to say that I am ambitious - my dream is to be on the Olympic Team competing in three day eventing. I can be cocky but it's confidence. Competitive to the core, I am a lot like my Godly father - quick tempered, sometimes moody and rather cold when it comes to people I don't know or don't want to know. My mom passed on her traits as well - I am well spoken and devilishly charming, a leader if I do say so myself. Honest to the core and brought up to be considerate by James, I like to think of myself as trustworthy. Sometimes a bit overprotective, I am none the less a daredevil. Brought up in a life of comfort, I am one to enjoy some benefits of having an unlimited credit card.

Abilities: Huh, never clearly understood this question. Well, since I am the son of the so called Boreas, God of the North Wind, I do generally withstand cold weather better than most other humans. Horses respond to me since some story talks of my dad being the father of some although only certain ones - usually northern breeds or grey/white. I can always find North and apparently carry the scent of Christmas (so my mom says).

Powers: None at the moment? I'd rather not turn into Boreas-Boy or Norther Wonder.

Social Status: Good question....New comer for now but don't worry, I will most definitely be remembered in this camp!

Summer or Year Rounder: That is a hard question. I mean, it was summer when we went to San Francisco to get Sam's paperwork in order during our summer vacation but I haven't really remembered it was bloody winter in the states. So, travelling to Camp Halfblood during Christmas? Not my idea!

Years at Camp: First one, honest.

Life Before Camp: As I mentioned before, I was born in Sydney, Australia and lived at my grandparents' house until I was about three before moving to Auckland, New Zealand to live with my step father James. For as long as I can remember, he had always been a part of my life and although I call him by his first name, I guess to me he is more like my father. I attended ACG Strathallan, a co-educational private school that opened a year after I was born on the south side of the city. Although the educational part was always hard for me, the equestrian program made it worth the pain. James and my mom had bought me a pony for my forth birthday, knowing my love of horses and hoping that it would help with my ADHD, following a study by one of the leading doctors in New Zealand. The exercise was meant to keep me busy and to knock off the excess energy, allowing me to focus on my studies. By the time I could ride at Strathallan, I was already competing in short stirrup events and rapidly improving.

When I was seven, my family grew as my parents adopted my sister Sam. Even though she was a year older than me, it didn't stop me from constantly protecting her at school. With private schools harboring the greatest bullies and Sam's more developed dyslexia than my own, she was an easy target especially with her sweet, caring disposition. We grew very close very fast though not always sharing the same interests - Sam wasn't a fan of horses but constantly was nurturing some animals back to health in our house or tending to the garden with my mom. James was the one to wake up at ungodly hours to drive to all the competitions, helping me prepare my ponies and horses.

At the age of twelve, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with life - I was going to be an Olympic rider, competing for my country in three day eventing. Having the resources and determination, my parents were not able to sway me. My grades were average at school and I was the star equestrian, keeping three horses at home including my first pony. I started volunteering at the stable at school and, after thirteen, became a regular employee at the barn I kept my horses near my house. My life revolved solely around the barn and I was not ashamed of it though that meant not much of a social life. I never had a girlfriend nor many friends - that made my family the most important people.

Midway through my 11th year, Sam was accepted into a pre-university medical program in San Francisco. As a birthday wish, she asked that I come with my parents to the States in to celebrate and drop her off at the University of San Francisco. Unable to say no, I agreed, arriving in the States in the beginning of December. The first few days went fine - that is normal. Then...Me and Sam were walking around the city center, enjoying the sunshine when she thought we were being followed. At first, it seemed impossible but soon...we were chased. Running through the streets, I ended up calling on Quilo to come get us though the stupid horse dropped us off at a house. Sam managed to figure out the carvings a second before the wolfs came. What they told us was impossible - we were the descendants of gods. I have no clue how long we stayed there, each passing a test, one that didn't just test the physical strength but the mental before Lupa took us to camp.

Camp Jupiter was not exactly my idea of fun. Structure, etiquette, military perfection. I hated it immediately - being called probatio and all. Sam fit right in though - she didn't mind being subordinate, didn't mind the way it was run. Her eyes lit up when she was New Rome and the university, the idea of being safe when she studied. Reyna, the Praetor, explained to us that while New Zealand and Australia attracted the Gods from time to time, the connection to the Down Under was little as the convicts sent there to colonize rejected many things of the old regime, focusing on the cultures of the new lands. That was why in New Zealand there were practically no monsters and the few grown demi-gods there kept us young ones safe. In the states, we would be a walking beacon. Sam was soon claimed by her godly parent but me.....a week passed and no sign came. None but a message from a mysterious Camp Half-Blood in New York City that someone would meet me halfway. Packing my few things and a few gifts, me and Quilo set out on our journey to Nashville, Tennessee to meet up with our guide.

I won't bore you with the details but lets just say that I met a few monsters too many (more specifically 10) and ate more fast food than I remember. Oh, and lets not forget the ridiculous amount the grey flying fleabag consumes. In any case, by Tennessee, I was just about ready to turn around and fly back when I was greeted by a....satyr. Trust me, the fact that the small teen with slightly chubby cheeks and an awkward shuffle ended up half-goat took a couple hours and one magnificent lunch (thank god credit cards still worked). After that, with much complaining about the extra weight and the smell, Quilo continued his direct flight to NYC, the chubby satyr Harvey continuously chatting about all the current gossip in the godly realm. Finding Camp Half-Blood wasn't a breeze but....I made it. Yay for showers.  

Role-playing Example: I looked as one of the grooms unloaded a somewhat annoyed horse off the trailer, my arms crossed as my eyes swept over the blanketed body. When someone told me the new arrival was mine, I scoffed but a quick look at the papers stating that I was now the proud owner of "Quilostious Nordicus" resulted in me now observing the arrival, watching each step the horse took and desperately trying to understand where in god's name did I manage to acquire such a mix breed creature. Not to brag, but all my horses were carefully selected purebred warmbloods of old proven lines and this?

"Take the travel sheet off of him, let me see the confirmation," I nodded at the team, carelessly signing the documents the driver offered me, my eyes more interested in the grey stallion before me. Apparently, as the papers stated, he was an Arravani horse, coming directly from Greece off of Northern Breeze Equestrian. What people wouldn't do to get money, even come up with new breeds.

"Just a second boss," the groom responded as he started undoing all the small clasps on the horse. The stallion snorted, showing just how tired he was on the thing. I once again found myself looking at his head, tracing the profile and the neck, following the lines as the groom pulled the rug back and revealed....wings?! I am pretty sure my jaw just went slack, dropping as my eyes grew large. The horse had feathery wings that he ever so casually stretched out and tossed his head, seemingly to say finally.

Notes: Unofficially played by Thomas Stoneman & Tom Gadsby (riding)