Claiming:Camp/Jordan Black

Name:Jordan Black

Gender:Male

God Parent:Thanatos, Athena, Hades

Mortal Parent:Emily Black

Appearance:Tall and lean. Not heavily muscled, but toned, almost starved. Scars line his chest. His black hair hangs down past his collar

Personality:Jordan is a paradox. Naturally cheerful, a clown, and full of life, his experience with darkness has given him a shadowy side. Despite being Thanatos' son, he despises death.

History:What's up? The name's Jordan Black. I'm the Son of Thanatos. So I'll try and keep this short cuz' I'm sure you don't give two craps about me...but if you're reading this you better start, because this is like, personal information and stuff. So it all started with my mom, a paramedic in Chicago. Her name's Emily, Emily Black. She was really pretty back in her day. Tall with perfect skin and hazel eyes and all that...well she was at the scene of a wreck when she came upon a small boy, lying in a puddle of blood. It was just about now that Thanatos came to collect the boy's soul, but upon seeing my mom, he instantly was filled with desire for her...(I'm trying not to throw up right now. I mean, this is my mom we're talking about!) Anyhow he revealed himself to her and offered her a choice: Either the boy must die that day, and be taken to the Underworld, or she submit herself to him, becoming his. In compassion she sacrificed herself for him. And so, for many weeks, Thanatos would visit my mom nightly and...let's not talk about it. ANYWAY eventually she got pregnant with yours truly. The Death god didn't like that, and so she never saw him again. Screw that guy. And so I was born, never knowing who my dad was. My mom always she'd tell me one day, and I eventually gave up on asking. I couldn't budge her. And so things were going pretty well. Everybody in elementary school thought I was cool, and I did good in class. I had a nice childhood, and I guess I'm thankful for that. But eventually the monsters came for me. I was almost twelve when I got first attacked. It was after school and I was home alone, when a dracenae busted down the door and ploughed into my kitchen! Naturally, I got my butt outta there...not returning home for a WHILE either. Finally when my mom did convince me to come back, I looked up the beastie that had attacked and found it to be from Greek myth. My mom finally spilled the truth about my dad, thinking I'd be upset...but I was on top of the world!! Mythology was real and I was the Prince of freaking Death! Wicked!! Yeah...until I visited a grave yard. My eleven year old self decided that since my dad was death-god, he might could talk through graves. But upon visiting a large cemetery (and concentrating) I found myself plagued by hundreds of wailing, exhausted voices, screaming for life. They clawed at the edges of my sanity, pulling me down. The voices never left. Sure, sometimes they got quieter or I could block them out, but they'd always come back. Some were relieved, some were angry, others despairing, and still more confused. But to all of them there was a certain element of being Lost that my mind could hardly handle. I grew kind of gloomy, and lost a lot of friends. The upside to being a demigod, however, was that I had awesome powers! Within six weeks of my twelfth birthday, I summoned my first astral scythe. Within a year, I saw ghosts often. MY senses grew sharper, my body more powerful, my mind more alert. And that was good, because the monsters weren't done. Thankfully, I only got attacked two more itmes before I turned fourteen. The first was by a trio of harpies, and another time by some telkhines. I somehow managed to win both battles (though quite worse for wear). I thought myself in a lot of danger at the time, if only I knew what most people of my kind went through... Well when I was about fourteen was the telkhine attack, and after killing them I realized I had to move on. I couldn't endanger my mom anymore, and I didn't fit it with mortal society one bit. I figured on the move monsters would be even rarer, but as soon as I stepped outside Chicago... I was jumped by hellhounds. Four of them, big brutish and mean attacked IMMIEDATLY upon me reaching the city limits. I tried to run, then I tried to fight, but my attacks just bounced straight off of them. They leapt upon me, tearing my skin to shreds. I would have died that day if not for my rescuers. At the last possible moment, half a dozen demigods came sprinting I and took the beasts down, but I wasn't in any state to ask questions of them. However they were still with me after I regained consciousness, and they introduced themselves as "The Claw". The Claw was a group of about twenty demigods who defended Chicago. Had it not been for their constant slaying of infiltrating monsters, my childhood would've been like any other. But as it was, I had gotten away with only a few weak skirmishes. Well as I'm sure you guessed, I join up with the Claw. They taught me to fight, giving me two swords and training me in them. As my powers and skills developed, I became a leader amongst their ranks. But it was not to last. After about two years, there was an army of cyclopses who wanted downtown Chicago for themselves that attacked. After a week of skirmishes they overcame us with sheer numbers and power. I alone escaped, enshrouding myself in shadow to slip away. But before he died, our leader managed to tell me all about Camp Half Blood, a safe place for demigods in Manhattan. I made the long, hard, torturous journey to camp. It took me almost a year, but I made it. (They found me passed out in the volleyball courts one morning, blood everywhere). And so now I'm here! I've still got a lot of inner demons (I lost a lot of friends with the fall of the Claw), but I'm alive and still know how to laugh...I think that will do for now. Thanks for reading. Now return to your regular programming.

Weapons: Two celestial bronze blades. Both slightly curved.

--Thefirstavenger77 (talk) 00:20, August 24, 2014 (UTC)