Claiming:Camp/Branwen Remington

Name: Branwen Remington

Gender: Female

God Parent: Apate, Nemesis, Eris

Mortal Parent: Darcy Remington

Appearance: Model: Alicia Josipovic

Personality: Branwen is deceitful, and loves playing with people’s emotions. She hates people with bubbly personalities, and will often go out of her way to distress them or be mean to them. She is seductive and loves ruining relationships. In that way, she’s a bit of a sociopath, but if she falls in love with someone, she’ll treat him or her well. Bran is tender and caring towards those she loves, but hates this side of her personality and tries not to get too close to anyone to avoid showing it. She’s deeply enamoured with Dionysus, but would never tell anyone. She hates people who betray her, but loves betraying people. She’s extremely high maintenance and enjoys being pampered. Her personality can almost be summed up in one word; Hypocrite.

History: Darcy Remington was a clear sighted mortal who made his living as a personal assistant to the President of the United States of America. Everything the President knew, he had known first. All information was filtered through him. But his life was a lie. Each night, after going home, he would send all the US intelligence back to the Mother Country, Russia. Darcy Remington was a spy, and that was the way he liked it. This caught the attention of Apate, who introduced herself as Maia Passlow to him after an inaugural dinner.

The two struck it off, and began seeing each other, starting out casually dating and progressing to a full time relationship. Maia revealed to Darcy she was pregnant and soon after left him, leaving behind a diary revealing her true self. Darcy half-believed the diary, knowing it was an explanation to all the crazy stuff he’d seen happen over his lifetime, but not believing gods walked among men and had children with them.

Still, he kept at his job until it got to the point that he was sent back to Russia, after being replaced with a younger, smarter spy. Darcy despised this idea. As much as he was faithful to Russia, he loved the American way of life, and all the stupid people there. He spent weeks trying to find a reason to stay in the country, until one day a black bundle appeared on his dining table. Standing next to the bundle, stroking the baby’s face, was Maia. Darcy was shocked, to put it simply. He was mainly astounded that someone had managed to get into his house, what with all the security measures he had put in place around the land.

Maia had laughed at him, asking if he’d even bothered reading the diary. He nodded, and Maia dissipated into a cloud of black smoke before his eyes, flying up his chimney. Darcy raced back to his bedroom and grabbed the diary, returning to the dining room and sitting at the table in front of the baby. He poured over the contents of the diary, occasionally glancing at the child. When he finished the diary the baby started crying, and he lifted it up and cradled it tightly.

Suddenly an idea occurred to him. If he had a child with an American citizenship, the Russian authorities would be less likely to deport him. As if by magic, at that moment the birth papers of the child appeared on the table, accompanied with a note; “Took you long enough. I want you to stay in the country; the girl will be safer here.”

Darcy took care of all the papers, and the Russian government put him on surveillance. The only reason he had been allowed to stay was, of course, because he had fathered a child there, but the government promised that if he ever did something that was not in the best interest of the child he would be deported and the child would be put into foster care. Darcy had willingly agreed, and he left his government job to make way for the younger spy.

With funds he had saved up over the years, he bought a large share in a prominent industrial company and purchased a large house in Washington D.C. Branwen, or Bran as she was lovingly called, was raised in comfort and luxury from a young age, and thoroughly enjoyed it. She was given whatever toys she wanted, she was taken out wherever she wanted, and she hardly ever went to school, as she hated the place.

She lived this way for seven years, and during that time she and her father grew very close. Her seventh year, however, marked her last year of happiness with her father. Darcy had grown to adore his daughter in ways no father should, and began to sexually assault her. Branwen was only seven, and for the most part she didn’t understand what her father was doing, she believed it was a game.

The assault continued for a year, then reached its peak. One night, Darcy raped Branwen in her sleep so forcefully she awoke, and he simply beat her until she was subdued and he could continue the act. Branwen had naturally grown to fear, and despise, her father over the horrid time. Finally, when Branwen was eight, the Russian government intervened in her situation. They told her softly as they took her father away that they were sorry it had taken so long for them to realise something was wrong. One of the members of the party that took away Bran’s father felt sorry for her, and asked the government to be her legal guardian. The government, put simply, didn’t give a shit about Bran and let him take her.

The man, Vladimir, was a man in his late 20s who had plans for Bran. He, like Darcy, wanted her, but in a less personal way. Vladimir wanted to teach Bran how to pleasure him, and other men, and then join the staff of his brothel in Moscow. Until the point where he felt it was right to start teaching her, he let her live in his luxurious mansion, tending to her every need.

She was home-schooled on the days she wanted to be, and enjoyed watching adult shows in her spare time. She was growing to be a vindictive, manipulative and rude child, but Vladimir didn’t mind. When Bran was ten, Vladimir started teaching her the ways of his pleasure house. She was quickly desensitised to sex and sexual acts, and began to enjoy her lessons.

She began working for Vladimir in his brothel at the age of 11. She attracted only the seediest of clients, but it seemed there were many seedy men (and women) in Moscow who would pay the high price she demanded for her time. It was also around this time that Branwen began developing her powers. When she discovered her ability to mimic sounds of others, she upped her charge, telling Vladimir she could attract the broken-hearted by imitating the voices of their exes. Vladimir loved Branwen, and adored the amount of clients she brought him. He continually showered her with expensive gifts, and in return Bran would make love to him.

When Bran was thirteen she was attacked by a hellhound. It ran through the brothel, barking madly. All the other staff had laughed it off, thinking it was a cute, lost dog. When the hellhound reached Bran, it started growling and drooling, and Branwen had to stop pleasuring the man she had been with. When she turned and saw the dog she screamed, but her client covered her mouth with his rough hand and pulled her away from the dog. He was a demigod, and simply presumed the dog had come for him.

He pulled off a bronze bracelet he had been wearing, and it morphed into a katana before Bran’s eyes. He made short work of the beast, and when he was done he turned back to Bran, expecting her to have seen him slaughtering a puppy or something. The look on her face told him otherwise. Bran barraged the man with questions about the hellhound and the man, presuming Bran was a demigod, answered them all, revealing to her the nature of being a demigod.

At the end of the night, the man left Bran with his katana, so she could protect herself when monsters came for her. Mere days after the monster attack, Bran asked Vladimir to buy for her a katana that matched the one the man had given her. Vladimir searched and searched, but could not find a katana like Bran’s. He sent out some of his lackeys to find one, in despair. Luckily for him, one of the lackeys was clear-sighted, and found a shop that sold CB weapons on the side. The man sold him a transforming katana; the weapon appeared as a sheathed dagger, but as it was drawn out from the sheath it grew into a katana. On her fourteenth birthday, this transforming katana was Vladimir’s present for Bran.

For the next few years Bran continued working in the brothel. She wasn’t attacked too often; once at fourteen by a harpy, and at fifteen by a telekhine. She took mixed martial arts classes on the side, paid for by Vladimir, and learned to use her matching katanas. When she chanced upon a monster she could now kill it with ease, or so she thought.

At sixteen, Bran was attacked by a Cyclops. It was early in the morning and she was walking home after a long night in the brothel. The monster sprung her as she walked past an alleyway, jumping out of the shadows and enveloping her in its strong grip. Bran’s hands clawed at the cyclops’ skin until she remembered her bracelet. She ripped the bracelet off her wrist and it transformed into a gleaming katana, which she stabbed into the cyclops’ hand. The monster screamed in anger and dropped Bran onto the concrete. She hit her head and rolled into the corner of the alleyway, but remained conscious. Clutching her katana in her hand, she stood warily and watched through a sort of haze as the monster charged at her.

Suddenly, the sharp note of a whistle broke the haze of the alley and grape vines began to wind themselves around the cyclops’ legs. The monster simply stomped and wriggled a bit to free himself from the vines, but it was enough time for Bran to snap out of her haze and jump at the cyclops’ back, plunging her katana under his shoulder blade and using her weight to drag the blade down the torso of the beast.

The Cyclops wailed in pain and then disintegrated into a pile of gold dust. Panting and bleeding, Bran looked around the alleyway to find the person who had saved her. Seeing no one, she sighed and collapsed against the wall, her head throbbing. It was then that she saw a handsome man at the mouth of the alley. He began walking towards her and quickly reached her, bending down and stroking the side of her face. He pulled a cup out of thin air and gently raised it to Bran’s lips, forcing her to drink. Once she had swallowed, Bran coughed and then slowly felt a warmth inside her, healing her.

The man smiled at her, and she smiled back, thinking he couldn’t be so bad if he had saved her. The man was, in fact, quite handsome to Bran; tall and toned (she presumed), with curly brown hair. He radiated power, and Branwen recalled from when she was told about demigods that this was how gods sometimes presented themselves to humans they fancied.

After some more nectar, and a little ambrosia, the man helped Bran up and escorted her out of the alleyway. By this point, Bran had developed a liking to the man, thinking him handsome and kind and not at all like her rotten clients. The two of them got talking on the way back to Vladimir’s mansion, and the man revealed himself as the god Dionysus. Bran grinned; amused she had fallen for the god of partying. As Dionysus dropped Bran off, he promised her they would meet again, on better circumstances.

A few weeks later, Bran was back working in the brothel. One night, she got a special visitor, a visitor named Dionysus. Bran and Dionysus made passionate love that night, and Dionysus promised that he would be back. Their meetings continued on the same terms for a month, and after each one Bran made sure to take a pregnancy test. Despite using protection, Dionysus was a god and Bran didn’t want to take any risks.

One evening Bran had off from working, she and Dionysus took a walk in a nearby park. As the two were canoodling on a bench, the manticore snuck up on them from behind. The beast fired one, silent stinger at Bran’s hand which was resting on the bench. She moved her hand to rest it on Dionysus’, but gasped as she heard the thunk of the stinger embedding itself in the wood. Dionysus was enraged at the monster, but was more intent on keeping Bran safe, so teleported the both of them away in a puff of purple smoke.

They arrived in the lobby of a luxury hotel in New York City, and the two of them shared a bed for the last time. In the morning when Bran awoke, Dionysus was nowhere to be seen and all her treasured possessions from Moscow lay in a huge red suitcase next to the bed. On the bedside table was a note and a golden chalice. Bran read over it quickly, then jumped out of bed and threw the chalice into the suitcase and zipped it up.

The note contained directions to Camp Half-Blood, and well as directions to use the chalice and a promise that Dionysus would come back to her in one way or another. Whenever Bran wished it, the chalice would fill up with any alcoholic beverage she wished. Branwen travelled to camp that day by taxi, not encountering any monster attacks along the way.

Weapons: Dual CB Katanas