The War of Manhattan is from The Last Olympian, right?

Name: Callen Hade

Age: 14

Parentage: Ares

Appearance: Wiry but muscly. Very flexible. Dark brown hair that is always in a ponytail. Medium height. Thin. Dark brown eyes. 

Personality: Fierce. Sort of a loner. Nice when you get to know her. Doesn't let people mess with her or her friends. Short temper. 

Weapons: She prefers swords but is good with almost every weapon and hand to hand combat. 

Other: Her mother died a long time ago. She believed that her dad was dead, too, until she arrived at Camp Halfblood two years ago where she discovered that she was the daughter of Ares. 

Nelly~

I woke up bright and early this morning.  It was surprising, since I'm not a morning person, but for some reason I felt all fresh and rested.  I yanked off my silky pink eye mask and stretched my arms above my head.  I felt like singing as I walked off into the other room to brush my teeth.  As I fixed my hair into a long braid, I winked at myself in the mirror.  I was in my favorite dark purple dress and I was looking good.  The good thing about living in the nerd cabin is none of my dweeby half-brothers ever hits on me.  I wouldn't have been able to deal with that.

I hestitate before walking out the door, glancing longingly at the calculus book on my nightstand.  Carefully, I tuck it into my purse, before Annabeth can see me doing it.  I would never hear the end of it if she caught me channeling my inner genius.  

Down at breakfast, I went to sit with my friends at the unofficial Aphrodite girls' table.  All my best friends sit at that table.  As you may have guessed, I'm the only Athena.  I feel kind of honored to be able to sit with them.  They only let the prettiest people even talk to them.   

As my charrie doesn't know about her parent - remind me if I'm wrong - that means that ten to one, the gods will leave her alone until after Percy's deal with the gods, right? They mentioned that claiming wasn't too common.

Would you all be open to another character? 

Also, I absolutely adore Percy Jackson, and rping PJ, but it's been awhile since I last read the series. So, if I make a mistake, point it out so I can fix it! Because my brain gets so confused at times. 

Thanks,

A∞

Callen- 

Jab right, jab left, dodge, kick, slam, uppercut, kick, dodge.  

My hands beat out a rhythm on the punching bag. My hands are red and sore but I don't stop. I cannot stop. In a war, there are no breaks. 

I raise my hand, ready to slam the bag again but someone grabs my fist in mid-swing. Clarisse is towering over me, her stringy brown (or was it blonde?) hair in a high ponytail, the way I always wear it. I curse myself for not hearing her. I'd gotten to caught up in pulverizing the punching bag to notice her sneaking up. 

"It's time for breakfast." She says flatly, still holding my fist in an iron grip. 

Only now do I notice that the sun has risen. I've been in here longer than I thought. 

"Well, if you let go of my arm maybe we could both eat." I snap. She glares at me. Ever since I arrived two years ago, we've hated each other. Frankly, there isn't really a reason for the mutual hatred. We just don't get along. 

"Take a shower, punk." She drops my arm and turns her back to me. If she wasn't head of the Ares cabin I would tackle her and pin her to the ground, like a boxer on TV. However, all I can do at the moment is watch her walk out the door of the gym while clenching my fists. 

*

So that didn't really go anywhere but it sort of introduces my character. I hope that's okay.  

All right! I still have no idea who she is, though. Thoughts?

~Indigo~

The Hermes cabin was a mess. Not that I said so. Candy wrappers were strewn all over the place, sleeping bags were positioned every which way, to make room. I understood that, but if they just lined them up into rows . . . yes, they could fit at least another person in to the cabin. But when I was showed where I could sleep, I just nodded, and grasped at my small pack. 

But I was glad to get away. I followed two girls - one who claimed to know how to find out whose daughter I was. I wanted to figure out if it was my mother or my father who was a god. My parents had disappeared one day, on our yacht. They were never found. 

I ran away from the orphanage when I was ten - when I found out that I was a danger magnet.  Three years of running and hiding ad fighting, though that was only when I was sorely angered or in terrible danger. 

Now, I stood somewhat sleepily in front of another cabin. "Here," Hailee, the girl from the Hermes cabin gestured for Alexa and myself to pick one of the weapons. "Bow and arrows. I'm not the best, but it's a quite activity - no one wants to be awakened right now. 

 Then why did you wake us?  I wondered. But I kept my mouth shut - what if she should be offended? I was just able to gather enough courage to actually say it, but it was to late. It always was.

Hailee picked up three bows, and handed me and Alexa one each. "Come one," she said. "To the target field."

Silently, I follow them to the field with target posts lined up, ready for practice. A few kids from one cabin were already up, and practicing. They were good. Apollo, I remembered. I wished that I could say how good I thought that they were, but bit my lip just in time. They probably knew how good they were. And they looked busy.

"All right," Hailee said. "Aim for the center of the target . . . " she snapped the bow after a long description, but came out a few rings off. "Oops. Hey, Michael!" she called out to one of the Apollo kids, "Can yo give us a demo?"

A squinty kids trotted up, smiling. "Sure," he said. "Trying to find a parentage?" he asked, turning to us. I nodded, but before that, he had turned away, and started to aim. After showing us some fine points, he let go of the arrow. Zing! A perfect bull's-eye. 

"You try it," he said, turning to me. "Indigo, right?"

I nodded, and took my place. Aim, check, fire. Zing. Bull's eye. 

I was surprised. I had never handled a bow before. 

Hailee raised her eyebrows. "Was that you're first time with a bow?" she asked.

I nodded. "I never touched one before," I was surprised to hear my voice. 

Michael looked up at me. "I have to get back to practice," he said. "But maybe I'll see you in our cabin soon. You sure have a good touch with a bow." With that, he walked off. 

Beginner's luck, I thought. But it had felt so natural. Maybe I was Apollo. 

Name: Arol Meage

Age: 15

Linage: father was a son of Athena, mother was Aphrodite (If this is too Mary Sue-ish, some one let me know, and I'll just be Aphrodite was my mother)

Appearance: short white blonde hair, boy cut/pixie cut. 5'5", thin, 105 pounds, small in build. Beautiful/handsome appearance, because of mother. Wears lace up knee high boots, with a built in sheeth for knife. Wears jeans or dress pants with Camp Half Blood teeshirt. (Arol is aware that the dress pants don't go. Hey, can't blame someone for wanting to dress nice and suave!) Arol also wears a brown leather jacket, similar to Dean Winchester's jacket, if that helps with visualization. Has soft, light, airy voice.

Personality: ditzy, soft spoken, kind. Not harsh at all and aviods conflict. Quick witted. Somewhat vain.

Weapons: Brains, and two knives, one long, and one small

Other: Arol is smart and well read, somewhat nerdy. But Arol is also Aphrodite's child and vain and aware of beauty. Can have a somewhat rebellious personality, as Arol doesn't like taking orders and loves to be in charge and be commanding. This can lead to slight conflict, but overall Arol is a sweet, likable person.

@BHR

I'm confused. In your chapter you said that you told me that it's time to find out who my parent is, but I already know - it's Apollo. I'm not one of the newcomers. Did you write "Calliope" accidentally??? 

Sorry if I make no sense - I'm just confuzzled. xD