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 Scott Jeebs - Hecate

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Number of posts : 1
Age : 17
Registration date : 2019-06-02

Scott Jeebs - Hecate Empty
PostSubject: Scott Jeebs - Hecate   Scott Jeebs - Hecate Icon_minitime6/2/2019, 6:35 am

Name: Scott Mark Jeebs
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Eyes: Light grey (left); Bright green (right)
Hair: Ginger, and usually very messy.
Height: 6'2"
Body Type: Lean
Skin Color: Pale
God Parent: Hecate
Mortal Parent: Alex Jeebs
Country of Origin: South Africa
Pets: A weasel named Squeek
Talents: Great at fighting
Weapon**: Celestial Bronze Dagger
Personality: Scott is friendly and energetic, and doesn't really worry about problems until they become extremely bad. He is very good at getting others to open up to him, and can get even the quietest people to talk to him. He is very hard to dislike, but has quite a few problems himself. He always does his best to keep everyone happy, because of a deep-rooted fear of never being enough, and eventually ending up alone. He is supportive, and will do anything for a friend, though he hides this devotion behind a good-natured smile.
Flaws: Insecure. Procrastination. Nyctophobia.
Abilities (must relate to god parent; optional): Can sense when an ability, usually mental in nature (such as Charmspeak), is used on him, although this does not aid him in resisting the effects. He also excels at potion making.
Powers (must relate to god parent; optional): Magic (Drains him, leaving him exhausted, or unconscious.)Excels at Necromancy (Death Magic; Others don't like it, so he doesn't use it often), Hemomancy (Blood Magic; since he only uses his blood, he doesn't use it too often) and Umbral Magic (Dark Magic; is usually too afraid to use it).
Life Before Camp*: Scott spent much of his young life feeling completely out of place at school. He had many friends, and few bullies, but never really felt like he fit in. His father always told Scott that it was because he was different, but never really explained to him what he meant by that. When Scott turned 16, his father took him to New York, to show him the city where he met Scott's mom. While there, they were attacked by something. In the ensuing chaos, Scott lost his father. He began looking for him, but couldn't find him anywhere. He and his dad had set up a meeting place over on Long Island, and Scott went there immediately. His dad had hoped this would happen though, and actually set the area inside Camp Halfblood. Scott arrived, and couldn't find his dad, but decided to stay, because for the first time in his whole life, he felt like he belonged somewhere.
RP Example*: "Where am I?" Scott thought, noticing the large trees surrounding him. "Dad said the meeting place was a cabin... He didn't mention anything about a forest." Squeek poked his head out of Scott's backpack and began sniffing the air. Scott took in a deep breath as well, smelling the pine and the fresh soil; the smell of nature. He carried on walking, until Squeek suddenly shrieked, and ducked his head back into Scott's backpack. Scott froze. The last time Squeek did that, that weird dog thing attacked the cafe, and Scott got separated from his dad. There was a creak behind him; a branch, struggling to hold something heavy. A twig snapped to his right, and Scott ran. After a few minutes of running, Scott's foot caught on a large root, sticking out of the ground. He fell, and started rolling down a large hill. By the time he stopped rolling, he was battered and bruised, and too dizzy to stand. He looked up, and although his vision was swimming, he could make out a few shapes. They came into focus, and then everything seemed even more strange. A weird assortment of modern and ancient-looking buildings, and kids wearing armor and normal clothes. "What is this place?" Scott whispered to himself. That's when Squeek nipped his ear. He whipped his head around, ready to reprimand the little weasel, but then he noticed that Squeek wasn't even looking at him. He was trying to catch something in the air. Scott followed his gaze, and there, just above him, he saw something he'd never forget. There, floating just above his head, already disappearing, were two glowing, purple torches made of light, crossing each other in an X shape. "Mom..."
Any notes about your characters: He has a tattoo of a crossroad at the base of his spine. At the end of each path is an object, with a knotted rope on "the Southern path", a skeleton key on "the Western path", a burning torch on "the Northern path", and a small dagger on "the Eastern path".
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