The Forsaken Camp (CLOSED)

My eyes looked over to Quintyn as she slashed and hacked at the Cyclops. I watched as Roxy protected Quintyn by throwing her knives. I looked away from her to look for a back-up plan. I couldn't see much so I looked back to Roxy. The Cyclops was now howling in pain getting ready to turn to Quintyn. I took my sword in my hands and got ready. I looked over to Roxy then back to Quintyn. I had 10 seconds at the most. I ran up to Buffy and started stabbing and slashing, I had an idea but it was a long shot. If I could get one stab in then the others could come up and hopefully get one shot in. I let my natural ability's take over and it was go time. I dodged the club that he had been swinging at me. I made my move an swished my sword up to hit Buffy but he got lucky and brought his sword up to hit me and blocked my attack. I kept dodging the blocks waiting for the others to catch on with my plan. I looked to the others and then back to Buffy and bring down my sword to my side to act like I was hitting something for them to catch on. I made a big mistake because Buffy brought the club to my side. I was familiar with the pain because it had happened alot during my childhood. I rolled from the attack and clutched my side. I pointed my sword to Buffy and hoped the others caught on.

(I'm sorry people I have way too much stuff too do these times... you can use zack as an npc i'm sorry )

I crept out from my hiding place when I noticed the blackened ash that scattered the ground. A large grin formed from my lips. Leslie and Quintyn were amazing with their swords, and watching their carefully precisioned swordplay made me feel more comfortable about the whole monster killing business. Maybe I could get used to this. I beamed at Quintyn's praise, glad that I could be of some use after all.
"Damn right we are." I agreed, clasping her hand.
The adrenaline, however, was beginning to quickly seep out of me, and I started to become more attune with my surroundings again.
"Quintyn? Where's your dad? And Zack?" I knit my eyebrows together as I scanned the cluster of cars for a familiar skull mask, that should stick out like a sore thumb in such an urban setting.
"Zack? Mr.Avilov?" I called out as panic crept up in my throat.
The cyclops never attacked anyone but Leslie, Quintyn and I, but when you're a demigod, disappearances aren't taken lightly. I started thinking that Zack might've turned out to be a witch doctor and possessed Quintyn's dad until Mr.Avilov appeared from the confines of his office. His dark brown hair stuck out in different directions as if he had to army crawl through a pile of branches to reach his desk.
"Nobody worry about me!" He called out. "This strange little man decided it was best to drag me to my office. Quintyn? Are you getting into that strange 'cosplay' phenomenon I keep on hearing about?"
He mispronounced cosplay as if it was some foreign ritual and pointed at Zack's mask as Zack followed him out the door. Zack gave Leslie a befuddled shrug.
Mr.Avilov's eyes then glazed over the carnage of rubble and car parts the Cyclops decided to leave as a mark of his existance. All hell broke loose.
"Der'mo!" He hissed out in Russian. "Do you know how many months of conning the money of rich white Americans that'll take me? Mat' tvoyu! All that money! Lost!"
Quintyn's father let it rip in a string of Russian swears and profanities and at that moment I was glad I couldn't understand Russian because I'd probably be deeply offended, but I not knowing Russian was also terrifying. His dark eyes flickered with a cruel light and the sun cast foreboding shadows on his face, highlighting his prominent cheek bones.I shrunk under the harsh tones of his voice, stepping behind the others. His eyes moved to Quintyn, and for a second I thought she was going to be vaporized on the spot just from his hard stare that properly depicted cold Russian winters. Instead he let out a large sigh, and I could breath again.
"I'm just glad you're alive." He breathed out, running a hand through his dark mane.
He walked towards Quintyn, his eyes gazed solemnly at her sword before pulling her into a hug. He whispered more foreign words into her ear, but I was pretty sure it at least wasn't profanities.
I nervously approached the tall man once he broke apart from his daughter's hug. His sudden anger, while deserved, unsettled me and I swallowed a lump of fear that had been stuck in my throat.
"Um, excuse me Mr.Avilov?" I began, my voice shaky. "I'm really sorry about your cars. If there was anything we could do to make it up for you, then count me in, but we really don't want to put your store in any more danger. We need to keep moving."
Quintyn's dad laughed light heartedly at my offer, and patted me on the head.
"Roxy, was it? Here."
He jogged back into his office and walked back out with car keys, tossing them to Quintyn.
"You kids can have my 67 Impala. It's a four door, don't worry. It doesn't look like much, but she's sturdy as can be, very reliable."
"Thank you so much, sir."
"Please, call me Sven."
He turned back to Zack who had joined the group.
"Even you, Skull boy!" He told him with a pat on his back.
We said our goodbyes and thanked Mr.Avilov-er, Sven, and we piled up in the car. Quintyn, being the more experienced car driver and the only non-year rounder out of all of us sat in the driver's seat.
"Well, that was the first bump." I stated as I climbed in. "But now we have a car, and we can drive downtown. Oh and also drive towards New York."

I slid my hands over the beige leather steering wheel of my fathers Impala. A smile tugged at my mouth as the memories of my father and I road tripping it through Russia flooded back to me. I breathed the old leather scent in deeply, letting out a satisfied sigh as I turned the key in the ignition and started up the car. My dad moved to open the doors to the dealership, kicking big shards of glass out of the way so we could drive out. I pushed the gas pedal and took us out of the wrecked building smoothly. My dad shared a glance with me as he waved goodbye. His expression read "Be safe" I nodded and smiled, giving him a look that said "You know I will." My dad turned the "Open!" sign that hung on the door so that it said "closed" with a tight, thin-lipped smile, as if he really wasn't happy about it, and I knew he wasn't. As I left the dealership and my father in the dust, he walked in to start his cleanup. I wasn't all that upset I was leaving my father anymore. I had gotten closure from him, and that's all I wanted. I could go through this quest without feeling guilty.

I drove down the road that the exit of my dads dealership lead to. I followed a few cars in front of me blindly. I realized I didn't know the way to New York City off my heart, having spent a great deal of my time in America hanging around in Brooklyn. Ask me to navigate my way through Russia and I could in a heartbeat because I had been everywhere and anywhere, America? Not so much.
"Alright, guys," I said finally to break the silence and get directions. "Does anybody have a map?" From the corner of my eye I saw Roxy, who was sitting in the passenger seat look around. She leaned over and opened the glove compartment, rooting through it for a map we could use to find our way to New York City. After a couple moments she sat up, clutching a folded piece of paper stained with rings of coffee and splatters of maple syrup. I thought my dad had thrown it out, but part of me was gladhe hadn't. I remembered sitting at a diner with him in Russia. We planned out our trip to America, trying to decide what city we were going to live in. My dad insisted it be in New York for reasons I hadn't understood at the time. Of course I did now, he had been trying to make sure I lived close to Camp Half-Blood. Roxy opened the map and looked at it for a while. I continued to drive until she gave me instructions on where to go.

I was sleeping, and I was having a dream.
Charlie was talking to a demigod with a japanese longsword.
"They are coming, just as planned." Said the demigod I didn't know.
"Hm.. that means we need to finish. Tell Larry I want the main building worked on." Replied Charlie.
So he is continuing.
Then the image changed and I saw a sky view from the emprie state building.
Charlie was looking down on the city.
Wait, I WAS Charlie. I saw where he was looking down in the forest about 15 miles out, through binoculars was a tiny tiny log cabin looking thing that said Larchie Cabin Motel.
So we knew what it was called.
I woke up and rubbed my eyes.
We were pulling down Nostrande road.
I saw Roxy's eyes on me.
"Okay, dream time, Larchie Cabin Motel, that's where we need to go. 15 miles form the Empire State building, in the middle of the woods. But first can we stop to eat and get coffe?" I asked them.
I needed to be hype and awake, I need Italian Roast Coffe.
"Pull over there." I said pointing to a starbucks.

I stared at the coffee that I ordered as I swirled foamy white cream around the Starbucks cup that was scribbled in a chicken scratch I could barely decipher. I didn't spend a lot of my time at Starbucks, so I just picked whatever sounded appealing enough on the menu and ended up with a shot of espresso and a hazelnut macciato that could put most people into diabetic coma. As everyone sat on the table, I figured it was time to get to know one another, or at least the plan.
"So, what exactly did you dream about, Leslie?" I asked her, my eyes analyzing her facial expressions, something I did when I wanted to better understand someone else.
I could only picture a GPS with a monotone voice of a British lady listing out instructions on Charlie's top secret camp.
"I mean that was horribly convenient. You don't think it could be like, I dunno, some sort of godly trap and whatnot?" I asked her, my eyes lazily drifting across the cafe, not focusing on anything in particular.
"Eugh oh gods, what is this horrible drink?" Zack interrupted as he choked on his coffee.
I was pretty sure he just read the first thing on the menu.
"It's the taste of white people, that's what it is." I explained to my fellow south american.
I took a sip of caffeine and I could feel my neurons begin popping and fizzing in my brain. Everything around me became so clear; I could pick out conversations from all over the room, the number eyes that flickered impatiently towards the counter as they waited for their beverages, the low flush of the nearby toilets that always had a line snaking out of the door in the lady's washroom. Coffee and ADHD was never a good idea, but before I felt like a deadbeat zombie. To be honest, I probably shouldn't have poured five packets of sugar into it. My legs began shaking underneath the table and I drummed against the coffee cup. After a few times of tripping over my own tongue I was able to speak in coherent english again.
"What are we gonna do when we get there anyways?" I continued. "What's the game plan?"