Claiming:Camp/Martin van Zijkens


 * 1) Brockoro.jpgcter Name: Martin van Zijkens


 * 1) 1 God parent choice: Apollo


 * 1) Species: Demigod


 * 1) Current Age:16


 * 1) Mortal parent name: Anne-Marie van Zijkens


 * 1) <p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Personality: Martin was never the kindest among his peers, quite often chastised by his school teachers and elders. Authority figures often looked on in disgust as Martin took advantage of his peers, often finding a way into tricking them out of their toys or sweets. Martin is arrogance exude, he scoffs at potentially fatal tasks marking them off as trivial with seemingly no regard for dangers to his life. Martin from a young age took interest in anatomy and the treatment of disease finding himself crudely treating wounds of those around him not for sympathy but instead for his own morbid interest or occasionally personal gain. Martin was quite unaffected by the knowledge of the gods and how they influenced mortal life, one could perhaps go so far as to say indifferent; this perhaps due to his irreligious upbringing and his general lack of interest in the concept of divine beings.

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 * 1) <p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"> History: 2000 Augusta, Maine. Anne-Marie van Zijkens worked as a nurse in the local hospital. She originally aspired towards something greater but economic limitations placed her in the situation she was in. It was particularly sunny and warm that day, the day she had met Apollo. The doctor had left Anne-Marie alone in the room with the patient, He had come due to a minor illness. He began in idle conversations with Anne-Marie and upon closer inspection she did find him particularly cute. With quite a skilled tongue the man had managed to secure the nurse’s number and her next friday night. It was the night Anne-Marie thought to herself, though at first quite disinterested she had grown quite excited and nervous as the date had approached. She thought to herself she was acting quite alike to a young schoolgirl. They had gone out to a japanese steak house that had a soothing oriental music playing the background. Idle chat flamed the fires of passion, the clock ticked by leaving behind the barriers of the past. When she had woke, morning beams of light fled into her bedroom. She sat up and looked around memories of the night before coming to her. She had looked around for her partner and saw no one. She ventured out into the small apartments kitchen and saw no one. She found a sour taste in her mouth thinking to herself “What a jerk, he didnt even bother to leave a note.” and so with that her normal life continued.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Anne-Marie woke up rubbing her eyes, she looked at the alarm clock by her night table it read “5:16” disgruntled she had become it was an hour earlier than it should of read. She groaned as she got up knowing the reason behind her rude awakening. Soft cries could be heard throughout the apartment. She went to the corner of her small sleeping space towards a small cradle and picked up a small demanding figure. She had named him “Martin” after her grandfather whom she was quite close with.

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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The voice that belonged to the Martin’s primary school principal droned on, Martin had stolen some of the other children's playthings. This was a common occurrence for Martin and it has gotten to the point where it was suggested he should be recommended to a child's psychiatrist. It also didnt help Martin had slowly grown more and more isolated from his peers as the other children came to distrust and even go so far as to hate Martin.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Martin was chewing some sweets he stored in his pockets, presents from his Aunt a week prior as he had just turned 9. He was in his towns local park, gently swinging on a swingset enjoying his morsels of sugary treats. A particularly high pitched screech rang out from a short walk away from Martin and as the curious child he was he went to discover the source of the screech. Small tears lashed down from the girl's cheeks leaving marks of red, Martin looked concerned for a moment. This concern however did not last for long. Martin eyed the girl and noticed a handful of shiny coins next to her. Martin’s eyes lit up with interest as the girl continued crying though she had now taken notice of Martin who had stood before her for the last few moments. Martin spoke briefly “I can probably make it feel better if I can have those!” he pointed towards the coins. Martin in no particular way had a strong grasp on currency or its worth but he had seen it enough to take a keen interest in it. The little girl looked indecisive for a brief second before looking shakingly toward the boy before her and slowly nodding her head. Martin got down to her level and noticed a bright red mark on her knee, He without putting any deep thought into the action put his hands on the mark and focused. He felt his eyes droop and his body sag but as he lifted his hands up the mark had seemingly vanished, Martin then timidly pounced on the bundle of coins and bolted off towards his home.

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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Martin’s eyes flicked down the worn paper of the medical textbook as the aged words on the pages shrieked in anticipation for the bell which would mark the end of Martin’s study hall. Thus the bell did so forth come. Martin had taken a keen interest in medical fields of study over the last 4 years, he was now approaching his 13th year of life. Though Martin was deeply fascinated with anatomy and medicine he had infact noticed something peculiar. Martin had pulled the same activity he had years prior, he would seek out the sick and injured and in exchange for money or other gifts he would treat them. Though his treatment was quite unusual, He found himself never needing to use any medical tools. It was as simple as clamping his hands on the afflicted person and almost as he was using his internal energy to treat them they would suddenly feel fine, any trace of injury or illness completely gone. Martin was now old enough to recognize this was no usual feat and so did those with sharp minds around him.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Martin walked down the condemned dirt path as he adjusted his jacket, a gift he received for his 14th birthday. He walked zoning out with the only sounds his ears picked up was the faint rustling of his jacket. <span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#00796b;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"> <span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">He continued to walk, he held up his wrist which displayed a knock-off gold watch which had been part of a set of two. He had sold the other at a hiked up price to someone he considered particularly idiotic, He of course ended up rueing the watch which boldly proclaimed to exist on his wrist as he had been stuck with it afterwards finding no one interested in buying the cheap vanity encrusted piece of a time keeper. The portable clock presented the sequence “3:42PM”. Through all of this very serious clock business however Martin had failed to notice the loud cracking sounds and the large figure of a canine behind him until it was simply too late. There was for an instance a loud boom of flesh hitting flesh and the creaking of the rotting corpse of a long-since fallen tree, followed thusly by the loud screech of a bipedal humanoid whom himself Martin. Martin in a flight of terror raised his hands in a crossed pattern as if the action would save him from what he at that moment seemed to be a particularly large wolf. However it was not crossed arms or an unknown spectre that would save Martin no, Instead it would be the watch that he had detested. Martin blinked for a moment and found himself playing a game of tug-o-war with the large wolf creature over… a crossbow? Martin had succumbed to his animalistic instincts and didn't question it. ~Crack!~ was heard in the short vicinity as Martin yanked the crossbow from the animal's jaw and slammed its head over with it, though not enough to seriously hurt the thing (perhaps only serving to fuel it in some animalistic way) it gave martin enough time to spring up and run like he had never run before.Though Martin did not take notice yet he would soon learn that the once defined tick that formed a ringing in his head had stopped, along with the existence of that watch that is, they had both stopped. Martin had a particularly hard time sleeping that night, when he awoke he gasped in horror not from the awful dreams that plagued him in the rare moments when he managed to sleep but to his aghast there was a quiver holding several bolts with some form of odd bronze-looking metal coating their tips.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Martin had begun firing the crossbow in a concealed part of a local park through some kind of morbid interest at first, it had developed into quite a hobby of his, though never reaching the level of interest that martin had in the medical fields it still grew to be quite a joy of his. Martin had also grew quite efficient at it and through some mental gymnastics and mnemonic suppression he had for the most part, forgot about the event that had happened the year prior with some form of foul beast which Martin would later come to know as a hellhound. Martin had been firing his crossbow at a mock dummy he had constructed from a pillow in a shrouded part of the local park which had for the most part remained unseen. Martin fired a bolt into the battered pillow when his nerves fired the warning signal, someone approaches!. Martin instantly flung back in a instinctual fit of paranoia to see the hulking mass of what appeared to be a dog which he only had loose memories of but none the less he remembered. He at first emitted a stunted shout which turned into the sounds of twigs being broke as the large mass started making its way towards Martin in a slow predatory way. Martin through some hidden knowledge in his body knew, he knew that this thing desired to end him and Martin knew he had to end it or there would be no more thoughts of ending, the end. The bolt flew forth from the crossbow placing itself promptly in the beasts shoulder which caused a large whimper to come out before the mass sprung towards Martin as he loaded another bolt. They went to the ground Martin mercilessly pounding the foul creature with the wooden contraception though he was unsure if it was to any avail. He had finally managed to load another bolt in between slugging the creature and keeping himself from being mauled. He with a final tug of energy pushed himself out from the beasts direct grasp and took aim directly towards its head and fired.

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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The satyr assigned to Augusta knew something fishy had been going on in the prior few years. He had begun to sense a demigod, growing dim at first though slowly it grew to nudge at him daily he had known there was a young demigod in the area. Furthermore he had noticed a monster in the area had stopped leaving traces of itself. He was unsure at first if it had killed a possible demigod in the area and left due to lack of prey but he had soon known this was not the case as the demi’s smell continued to claim the area around it.

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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Martin strolled home from school taking a downtrodden path deciding today it would get some use. He walked and in some unnatural form of consumption skimmed through a medical textboox ignoring the bits he already knew and maintaining a brisk pace. This however was broken at the sound of a aching yell. Martin had no idea what he was about to get himself into, chalking it off as some old man who had displaced a hip a quick penny he had thought. Martin shrieked in pain as a spatter of an acidic liquid clung to his waist and ate through his cloth and to an extent, his skin. Martin with teared eyes looked rabidly around himself to see a giant ant charging towards him and a man...No, a goat? No however it was irrelevant and Martin knew it and as much as he would of liked to say he was shocked at the spectacle, there were more pressing issues to handle. Martin in a brief shriek of pain and anger slugged the giant ant with his backpack which served to daze it for a brief second more than enough for Martin to rush past it and get to the goatman. He looked at him to assess the damage, He had a long gash in side though at first looked like something a sharp blade would cause infact turned out to be the cause of an acidic material without thinking Martin knew that would be what awaited him in a few short moments as his side stung with a intense pain. Martin clasped his hands on the man and felt his focus be tugged from him somehow into the main as he had done many times before. The goatman seemed to have regained his ability to remain conscious which he had promptly used to push Martin away and with a loud thunk, The ant rammed itself into a tree and broke it down. Martin rolled to his side, unzipped his bag and pulled out the crossbow which he had begun carrying with him alongside with a quiver of bolts which he promptly clipped onto his belt. The ant however took no time for granted and begun its second charge towards the goatman, Martin promptly slung a bolt from the wooden firing machine he held in his hands. The bolt clanged with a metallic noise from the ant’s tough skin to the ground. The ant attempted to spit more acid at Martin though was met with a bitter end as the tone of a flute played and a sharp piece of plant matter and tree shot from the ground and into the stomach of the thing. Grace soon followed the battle both the goatman and Martin slumped onto the ground in a mixture of pain and exhaustion.

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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The goatman had shortly after insisted to be called Mr.Geen as well as he was apparently a satyr, with the adrenaline leaving Martin’s body he begun to understand how bizarre the situation was.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Martin ate a tin of beans on a soft paper plate, as his “satyr” companion munched on a tin can, Martin shivered at the thought of how that would affect one's oral health. Martin took a deep breath and began to recollect the previous weeks happenings. He was informed of the matter of the hellens and immortals, he was given information about his lineage and the fact his father was an immortal. Martin was of course, shocked and thrown into a near existential crisis perhaps if his cynical attitude didn't stop it he would of reached some heartwarming conclusion over the fact greed is bad and he should put the collective above the singular, this was not the case and Martin decided he would attempt to suppress this information deciding he would convince himself this was a bad dream. However Mr.Geen informed him his fate was already decided and they were to make way for New York, and that there would be no time to linger. Martin said his goodbyes with his mother who apparently was just as shocked as him.

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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Martin stepped into camp, though he should of been struck with some sort of awe by this point he had already soon more than enough and he simply shrugged it off attempting to put it out of mind. In the first few days of camp while staying in the hermes cabin he was given a spear to train with and was shortly after claimed by Apollo.

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 * 1) <p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Weapons: Martin is armed primarily with a crossbow firing CB bolts. If combat is brought into close range, he is armed with a CB-tipped spear
 * 2) <p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:6pt;margin-bottom:8pt;"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">Signature: