halfbloodhill_logs | (no subject)

Who: The entire camp + special guests.
What: Wolves have broken through the camp barriers!
When: Late Wednesday January 29 into early morning on January 30
Where: Various camp locations.
Why: Some canines think they can show Camp Half-Blood who's boss.

It starts with a scream.

The evening harpies, better known as camp's alert system for kids who are out past curfew, have some news for everyone, flying through the camp and shrieking through cabin doors to wake everyone up if they're asleep. (Unless, of course, you're untrained and too young or incapable of fighting tonight. Demeter cabin will be your place of refuge.) After the first call to duty, campers have risen to the occasion with their various plans and promises, patrolling the border and building weapons specifically for their new enemies. The Full Moon passed with only a few howls, much to the surprise of many.

No, these wolves have other plans for the New Moon. Aligned with Gaea and followers of Lycaron, they're a group of six renegades looking for a show and perhaps a tasty snack. One of them just so happens to be in the business of fussing with the Mist, undoing someone's hard work to let in her comrades.

They've got bared teeth, blood on their nails, and a penchant for chaos. Camp, it's time to wake up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Almost as soon as he realized Derek had shifted, Tybalt had moved to find him to divert friendly fire away from their werewolf. Most of the others hadn't believed him but as Derek was fighting the others they didn't argue overly much.

These people, however, aren't campers. One makes a beeline for Derek when they spot him, only to have Tybalt stepping in front of them before they can shoot him or stab him or whatever, his khopesh in hand.

"I don't know who you are," he warns, "but that wolf is a friendly."

"No wolf is a friendly wolf." Alexis has not moved a muscle, arrow still drawn fully. "Now I request you move aside and let us handle this."

Because she was given orders. Eliminate all wolves, and while she doesn't plan on hurting any of the idiot campers getting involved she's not against fighting one.

Not a camper then. Tybalt tightens his grip on his khopesh.

"See, that's where you're wrong," he replies, voice level. "That wolf? That wolf has the protection of the goddess Bast." Which was technically true, since that was Tybalt's goddess. "If you so much as breath on that wolf, I can promise you a curse upon your house that will last a hundred years. The plagues of Egypt will look like a mild inconvenience compared to what will come down upon your head."

He doesn't mention Derek's father. That's not his pantheon.

Not a camper at all, because a camper knows better to snort at his threat.

"Is that suppose to frighten me?" She raise an eyebrow, not moving an inch. "Because I think you would have to find someone who cared about the gods of old. They have no business in this matter and neither do you. So I'll ask again, move aside."

"No."

And that's the last thing Tybalt says before swinging his khopesh up and at the girl's bow, hoping to snap the string.

She let's the arrow go, because there's not much else she can do. Catching the khopesh on the wooden limbs she gives a small grunt, wishing she'd grabbed a compound bow instead of the recurve.

Not that it matters right now. She keeps blocking his swings, waiting for the right moment to side step him and kick.