Andrew Bonaventure was a mysterious man who tended to have an impression on people. That is to say, he stood out. A natural gambler, he spoke with a rather peculiar tone that set others in anger or awe. He was a superb speaker and had a convincing and manipulative way of saying things that allure unsuspecting individuals to his lure. He was deceitful and lacked integrity, being quite selfish as well, but by no standards was he cocky. He played his games carefully and with caution, and never would he pick a great risk over his personal perseverance. The only exception of this would be the overall spoils an action would deliver. There was nothing he valued more than his own life, but secretly, he yearned for something to grasp onto more.
He desired something, anything, that even himself would be willing to sacrifice himself for. It was an unfathomable thought, him having a thing to die for. He had been fighting for all he could remember, protecting his soul with all he could muster. Perhaps it was for this sole reason that he strived to be hostile and unforgiving, so no one gets attached to him and vice versa, him to another being. This could all be accounted for by a fear of trust or companionship. There was once a time he had a friend, after all, and once he lost that companion, the fright of losing another is too much for him to bear. However, by pure coincidence, everything changed during one night. He had left his hometown, Dallas, in order to go and gamble in Las Vegas, Nevada. He was very excited, and as soon as he walked into a casino, he begun drinking. At some point of that night, he met a woman with lustrous, fiery red hair. She was a skilled glamber, just like he was. The two of them talked, she charmed him, and as one would expect, he invited her to his hotel room.
The next morning, he woke up, no longer inebriated. He did not remember much, but he did remember the woman he slept with, and acknowledged the fact that she was nowhere in sight. He merely shrugged, aware that the young woman was a one-night stand. From that day on, Andrew lived his life normally. That is, until several months later, someone knocked at the door to his house in Dallas. He opened it absentmindly, and was greeted by the woman he slept with many months ago, cupping a child in her arms. He was wrapped in a green blanket, and slept peacefully in his mother's arms. The woman the proceeded to tell him everything about her. She informed him that the child she held was his, and he was expected to raise it, for she could not do it. Skeptical, he begun asking several question, which she answered patiently.
As it turned out, she claimed to be the goddess Tyche, otherwise known as Lady Luck. She told Andrew that the child she held in her arms was named Asher—a name that meant "good luck". And she told him that he was a demigod. Andrew was bewildered, but took the child under his wing nonetheless. Moreover, Tyche gave Andrew some advice before leaving.
"I'll always be watching over you two," she said, "don't even worry about it. Here," she handed Andrew a note with an address attached to it, as well as a sword, to which he was confused. "these will serve their purpose in the future. I'm sure you already know it, but the life of a demigod is a dangerous, conturbed one. I want you to know this: once our child reaches a certain age, foul creatures won't stop to try and conquer him. This address has a camp for special kids like him; the people there will keep him safe and train him when it becomes needed. Be sure to give him this sword once he reaches the age of nine."
And with those words, she left. Vanished forever, leaving Andrew shocked and holding the child in his arms. As Asher grew up, he was as normal as the child of a Goddess can be. From an early age, it became obvious that the boy was streaked with extreme good luck. Whenever he would not study for a test, he would still complete is with excellent results. He enjoyed an acceptable school life and rarely found himself engaged in any sort of conflict; barring occasional taunts, of course. But during his late childhood, his life gradually began to descend into madness.
It all started during his ninth birthday. He had just woken up and changed into casual clothing, and was walking down the stairs that led to his house's ground floor, when he took note of the presence of his father. He was sitting by the dinner table, holding a mug of hot coffee in his hands, although he took no sips from the drink. Then, suddenly, he looked up and noticed Asher. He flashed his soon a smile, but his eyes were still concerned about something. He did his best to hide this, however, and quickly told his son to sit himself down next to him, which he did. Andrew wished him a happy birthday, and then passed over a box that was meant to contain his birthday present. Asher opened it excitedly, but was shocked to see a wicked, glimmering bladed weapon inside the package. For the next two years, Asher kept the sword under his bed, unsure of what to do with it. As months passed by, Andrew was relieved, and thought that maybe monsters would not attack his child, after all.
Three years later, it was time to celebrate Asher's birthday one more time. Andrew had invited all of Asher's friends to a local bowling station, where they would spend their day. However, Asher was very confused when his father told him to take the sword with him; in a rucksack. If his son really was to be attacked, he needed to make sure he was protected at all times. If nothing happened, then he would get rid of the sword, for he would be sure it had no real purpose. Asher, for one, was still very confused about what the purpose of that odd birthday present was, but took the rucksack nonetheless.
As one would expect, Asher spent the day goofing off and having fun with his friends, paying no attention to the sword he was given at any moment. He was having an excellent time, and all of his friends provided him with truly amazing birthday presents, which Asher was very grateful for. On the other hand, his fun had to come to an end. At one point, Asher and his friends were forced to leave, for the station would be closing its doors shortly. All of them gave their farewells to each other, and proceeded to go along with their different paths. They would see each other the next monday, at their school. For once, Asher looked forward for the beggining of another week at school.
However, as he was walking home, he could not help but think he was being watched by someone, or something. Soon, an answer to Asher's worries came. All of the sudden, he heard a high-pitched yelp coming from above. He looked up, just in time to see three peculiar creatures diving at him. At the last second, he jumped out of the way, and quickly rose to his feet in order to take a good look at his assailants. And when he did, he was shocked. He recognized the animals that were attacking him. But something did not add up. They were stymphalian birds, defeated by Hercules in his sixth labour for Eurystheus, as he found out about in a book he read at sixth grade. They were mythological creatures. In other words, they could not possibly be real, could they? His thoughts were interrupted by a particularly loud screech coming from one of the birds. Slowly, but surely, Asher managed to come up with a plan. He mentally revised how Hercules managed to get rid of the creatures. After a long fight, Athena, noticing the hero's plight, gave him a rattle which Hephaestus had made especially for the occasion. Hercules shook the rattle and frightened the birds into the air. Loud noises. If he managed to make a loud, high-pitched noise, then perhaps the birds would leave him alone.
Suddenly, Asher remembered something. The sword his father gave him was still in his rucksack. If he managed to reach it fast enough, he could slash his way out of the birds' reach, and then, he would be able to gain some time, which he would use to make a loud noise to scare the birds away. However, his efforts turned out to be unnecessary. Being as lucky as he was, after his first swing at the birds, his sword accidentally hit a metal lamp post, creating a distorted ringing sound that was enough to drive the birds away. Asher laughed hysterically, trying to process what had just happened. Then, he fell to his knees, dizzyness having finally sunk in as he realized what had just happened. He had just fought creatures that should not even exist, and he had won. He was the luckiest person in the world, after all, or so he thought.
Asher was exhausted. He walked home, being wary of his surroudings and keeping an eye out for anything that seemed unnatural, but he reached his house with no more complications. Somehow, he fell into a deep slumber. The next morning, when he woke up, he went on with his usual life, completely disregarding what had happened in the previous night. His father, however, clearly had his concerns. He had noticed that the dagger had been used, and his son's silence did little to ease his fears. For the next few years, Andrew grew into an anxious man. He had decided to hire several security guards to actively patrol the surroundings of their house, in order to ensure Asher's safety. However, no attacks turned out to happen, a subtle hint to Asher's sheer luck. But Andrew's worries were far from disappearing. On a sunday morning, he decided that he should no longer keep secrets from his son. He believed that Asher was entitled to the right to know who he really was, and where he came from. That day, when he woke up, he found himself still in his bed, only his father was sitting on a chair directly across from it. Asher was startled, and soon propped himself up in one elbow, giving his father a suspicious look.
"Son, this may come off as a shock, but I have something to tell you," He said, anxious. "Very well. . ." Then, Andrew explained to his son who he was, and where he came from, not leaving out any detail. When his father was done, he just nodded nervously, unable to process the information his father had just shared.
"Look, as much as it pains me to say this, you must leave now," Asher looked up with wide eyes, completely bewildered. "Do not get me wrong. I mean only the best, and my intentions are to protect you, which I cannot do by myself. You see, there is this camp for special kids just like you. Your mother, she made sure I would take you there once you had reached the age of fourteen. You are now sixteen, Asher. I am sorry, but you must leave now. Here is a ticket to a bus that will take you to a place that's close enough to where you must be. Inside the backpack, you are going to find the address to the camp you're meant to be in. From that point on, you are on your own. I love you, Asher. This is why I am doing this."
He then handed Asher a bus ticket and a backpack filled with his belongings, including the celestial bronze sword and the aforementioned address. He drove Asher to the nearest bus stop, and after making sure everything was alright, he watched as Asher entered the bus and left, for good. During the trip, Asher tried to understand what his father had told him. He was a child of Lady Luck, which made him a demigod. To say that he was utterly shocked would be an euphemism. Soon, he learned that the bus would take him to no place other than the outskirts of a perfectly ordinary place. That is, until after several minutes of wandering around with the camp's address in hand, he found himself in front of odd, old-fashioned gates with unusual words written on it.
Camp Half-Blood.
Asher Percival Bonaventure 
