Name: Daria Shay
Age: 18
Sex: Female.
Appearance: A young woman standing at about 5'11" in height, weighing about 147 lbs. Descended from the Inuits in the far northern reaches, her skin is a healthy dark tone, and her hair is raven black. She styles it oddly, with it for the most part short save at the front, where it's split to the left and right and frames her face in two long, full bunches. At the back of her head, some of her hair is drawn back into a small ponytail that only falls to the nape of her neck.
Her face is slightly rounded, though it's slimmed as she matured and devoted herself to physical training. Her features are bright and energetic-looking, and her large eyes are a particularly reflective brown. She has a bit of an overbite, though it's hard to notice with her common, face-splitting grin. Her ears pop out from the sides of her head, and three rim piercings run parallel along her right ear.
Her body is muscular and well-toned from constant exercise and physical work, though you'd be hard-pressed to notice. She tends towards pullover hoodies and heavy jackets, only relenting and wearing a t-shirt and polo in the hottest, most unrelenting weather. Jeans are the most common leggings, though she'll relent and wear sweatpants. Formality is not a part of her style, though if absolutely forced she'll wear a pinstriped suit. Suggesting a dress is inviting your own doom.
Personality: There are many words that could be used to describe Daria's state of mind, though they all feel watered down in comparison. Like comparing a firecracker to a bunker buster. Fast, energetic, excited, chipper, bright, exuberant. All these words apply, yet even combined they're not quite enough. Daria is a woman that does not so much live for the moment, as she lives for the callous, vicious assault of the moment, pounding it a gritty pulp before moving on to the next moment.
A fighter by nature, she revels in combat. A friendly sparring match, a pitched battle for the fate of the world, or a drunken arm-wrestling contest. They're all equally wonderful, joyous things to her, and keeping up with her violent thrill-seeking is the fastest way to earn her friendship. She's very impatient, and gets easily frustrated with people who are slow to act. That's not to say she's stupid. She's an average learner and really rather gifted in the arts of warfare, in all of its forms. She's no tactician, but the man who expects textbook tactics to catch her off guard may as well be handing her a dress to wear.
She enjoys reading, at least when it pertains to her bloodthirsty interests. War novels, or particularly good novels that involve it in some periphery function get a five-star rating, and she also has tastes for philosophical books on the more idealistic end of the scale, so long as they're interesting.
She has an intense sense of right and wrong, to the point that it will override common sense. If she sees an injustice, it must be righted, and damn the consequences. Unfortunately, there's no "off" switch to this, and it's led to a rather bitter disposition in relation to the gods who go around screwing (and screwing over) mortals. The biggest breakthrough in her time at Camp Half-Blood was when she was ultimately convinced that she didn't need to fight her father.
Divine Parent: Ares
Demigod Abilities: As a child of Ares, Daria has an innate talent for combat, and has taken to the art of battle like a fish to swimming. A proficient hand-to-hand fighter, and passable in most weaponry, though her real passion is the sword. A real hero's weapon, something that can slice off a head or playfully smack a humiliated foe in the rear as she chose. She also has a subtle control over fire, based on her mood more than her will. When calm, her effects on open flames are negligible, possibly even soothing them and preventing dangerous fires from spreading at more than a slow crawl. But when she becomes angered, and gives into the rage and temper her heritage provides, fires flareup in massive spurts, lashing out at her enemies.
Weapons and Wargear: Daria wields a one-handed sword. Her personal choice is a Swiss saber, although when not in reach of her own weapon, she can make use of other blades. Her armor is very nondescript, for all her boisterous personality. It's shaped plainly, rather than the ornate or anatomical designs of some Greek armor. What she does wear is fairly light, and is sparse in several areas to allow her a maximum range of movement. She holds an enchanted targe shield in her off-hand. Her half-helm leaves her eyes and lips exposed, and a simple crest runs along the top. She claims seeing her eyes increases the intimidation factor. Others tend to agree.
Enchanted Items: She carries two enchanted items, though one is only brought out in combat. The first is her targe shield, enchanted and given as a gift to her, though by who she does not know. While not a perfect defense, it automatically attracts all projectiles traveling in her direction towards its center. This greatly improves her odds when against ranged combatants, as between her own agility, armor, and the shield, most shots never touch flesh.
The second is a more personal gift, one from her mother. One of the rings on her ear, when tightly squeezed, triggers a series of memories in Daria's mind, flashing through her life at home with her mother, and all the moments they shared.
Biography: Daria grew up in "scenic" southern Ohio, living in the suburbs with a single, hardworking mother. Delilah Shay was only 25, barely out of college when she gave birth to her daughter, and worked no less than two jobs at any given moment to keep their home. Although she was rarely home, and Daria spent much of her young life with sitters, her mother made the most of every second she was at home. They drove to the park or the forest, or anywhere exciting, at any opportunity Delilah managed to get, and she showed Daria all the things she couldn't have truly come to appreciate through a textbook, or some pictures on the internet. She became very attached to her mother, and a big handful as she aged, her boundless energy slowly managing to overtake even her the elder Shay's enthusiasm and determination. Delilah barely slept; to this day, she claims Daria never slept.
Daria was sent to school at the age of 5, and managed to make a walking paradox out of herself. The friendliest child in class, and also the most violent. She played with anyone who would stand her company, and acted with a certain tenderness towards her friends. But if anything managed to tick her off, it usually got punched. Delilah had many talks with her teachers as the years pressed on about her child's dangerous behavior, but she already was well aware there was nothing she could do about it. It was in the girl's nature, all she could try to do was direct her talents into healthy outlets.
She enrolled her daughter in martial arts classes, though she was forbidden from sparring with the other children "for her safety". Delilah encouraged her to excel at gym class; that came without trying. Strangely, what pacified her most was reading. Daria loved stories of war, of bloodshed and violence, and yet became calmer through them rather than more charged. She read of great legends, of the legendary heroes of Greece. Heracles, Perseus, and their battles with savage beasts. She read of the war of Troy, and found herself enthralled by the machinations of its characters. She once tried to read Frank Miller's 300, but it upset her stomach for some reason.
By the time Daria was pressing through middle school, she was never far from the center of her classmates' web of gossip. More athletic than the boys and the only girl who seemed to have zero interests in the others' dealings. She was often mocked for her strange behavior, as well as her tastes, be they in fashion, literature, or gender. Daria herself was perplexed, meanwhile, at how no one else seemed to view the world like she did. Fighting was natural, it was a great pastime to share with a friend--why did everyone treat her like a monster when she got in a fight? She tried to find outlets for her aggression, but her gender often kept her from the more physical sports. She tried for years to join the Spartans, her school's wrestling team, but coach Aggie--a woman, she'd often note--denied her time and again on grounds of the team being boys only.
The truth that she learned in her sophomore year of high school was that she was a monster, of a sort. When her best friend was savagely beaten in the halls by a pair of hoodlums with nothing better to do, something snapped, and her inner nature got the best of her. Before she could even fathom what she was doing, she'd made sobbing bleeding messes of the both of them, and was well on her way to breaking every bone in their legs by the time she regained control. She fled, and ran to her mother, begging to understand what was happening to her.
Delilah was appalled, not at her daughter's actions, but at what they meant. She explained that the reason Daria had never met her father was that he wasn't like other men. He wasn't quite a man at all. His name was Ares, and he was a god. Daria was his daughter, and the inheritor of some of his strength. A demigod. And if her abilities were awakening, then Delilah couldn't keep her anymore. She explained to Daria that there was a place that would teach her to properly control herself, her abilities, out in New York.
They drove out the next day, and Daria became a member of Camp Half-Blood. With nothing but what her mother could pack in a night, as well as a small ring in her ear, she was left to start a new life, as a part of a world she'd only known in storybooks.
Daria has been a member of the camp for two years now, and has built herself a reputation as the go-to girl for a fight, or help fighting something else. Utterly fearless or dangerously stupid, either way she'll never turn down a fight. She's gotten into more than a few heated arguments with the camp's staff for her reckless behavior, although she tends to get a little slack for being a child of Ares and somehow pleasant, for the most part.
She has many friendly acquaintances, but few friends. Of course, that comes with the caveat that what she calls friends, most would call life partners. She has been very selective of who becomes a part of her inner circle, though when someone is in they are in completely, and they can rest assured that they've gained her absolute trust in every matter, and the kind of backup most could only wish for.
Age: 18
Sex: Female.
Appearance: A young woman standing at about 5'11" in height, weighing about 147 lbs. Descended from the Inuits in the far northern reaches, her skin is a healthy dark tone, and her hair is raven black. She styles it oddly, with it for the most part short save at the front, where it's split to the left and right and frames her face in two long, full bunches. At the back of her head, some of her hair is drawn back into a small ponytail that only falls to the nape of her neck.
Her face is slightly rounded, though it's slimmed as she matured and devoted herself to physical training. Her features are bright and energetic-looking, and her large eyes are a particularly reflective brown. She has a bit of an overbite, though it's hard to notice with her common, face-splitting grin. Her ears pop out from the sides of her head, and three rim piercings run parallel along her right ear.
Her body is muscular and well-toned from constant exercise and physical work, though you'd be hard-pressed to notice. She tends towards pullover hoodies and heavy jackets, only relenting and wearing a t-shirt and polo in the hottest, most unrelenting weather. Jeans are the most common leggings, though she'll relent and wear sweatpants. Formality is not a part of her style, though if absolutely forced she'll wear a pinstriped suit. Suggesting a dress is inviting your own doom.
Personality: There are many words that could be used to describe Daria's state of mind, though they all feel watered down in comparison. Like comparing a firecracker to a bunker buster. Fast, energetic, excited, chipper, bright, exuberant. All these words apply, yet even combined they're not quite enough. Daria is a woman that does not so much live for the moment, as she lives for the callous, vicious assault of the moment, pounding it a gritty pulp before moving on to the next moment.
A fighter by nature, she revels in combat. A friendly sparring match, a pitched battle for the fate of the world, or a drunken arm-wrestling contest. They're all equally wonderful, joyous things to her, and keeping up with her violent thrill-seeking is the fastest way to earn her friendship. She's very impatient, and gets easily frustrated with people who are slow to act. That's not to say she's stupid. She's an average learner and really rather gifted in the arts of warfare, in all of its forms. She's no tactician, but the man who expects textbook tactics to catch her off guard may as well be handing her a dress to wear.
She enjoys reading, at least when it pertains to her bloodthirsty interests. War novels, or particularly good novels that involve it in some periphery function get a five-star rating, and she also has tastes for philosophical books on the more idealistic end of the scale, so long as they're interesting.
She has an intense sense of right and wrong, to the point that it will override common sense. If she sees an injustice, it must be righted, and damn the consequences. Unfortunately, there's no "off" switch to this, and it's led to a rather bitter disposition in relation to the gods who go around screwing (and screwing over) mortals. The biggest breakthrough in her time at Camp Half-Blood was when she was ultimately convinced that she didn't need to fight her father.
Divine Parent: Ares
Demigod Abilities: As a child of Ares, Daria has an innate talent for combat, and has taken to the art of battle like a fish to swimming. A proficient hand-to-hand fighter, and passable in most weaponry, though her real passion is the sword. A real hero's weapon, something that can slice off a head or playfully smack a humiliated foe in the rear as she chose. She also has a subtle control over fire, based on her mood more than her will. When calm, her effects on open flames are negligible, possibly even soothing them and preventing dangerous fires from spreading at more than a slow crawl. But when she becomes angered, and gives into the rage and temper her heritage provides, fires flareup in massive spurts, lashing out at her enemies.
Weapons and Wargear: Daria wields a one-handed sword. Her personal choice is a Swiss saber, although when not in reach of her own weapon, she can make use of other blades. Her armor is very nondescript, for all her boisterous personality. It's shaped plainly, rather than the ornate or anatomical designs of some Greek armor. What she does wear is fairly light, and is sparse in several areas to allow her a maximum range of movement. She holds an enchanted targe shield in her off-hand. Her half-helm leaves her eyes and lips exposed, and a simple crest runs along the top. She claims seeing her eyes increases the intimidation factor. Others tend to agree.
Enchanted Items: She carries two enchanted items, though one is only brought out in combat. The first is her targe shield, enchanted and given as a gift to her, though by who she does not know. While not a perfect defense, it automatically attracts all projectiles traveling in her direction towards its center. This greatly improves her odds when against ranged combatants, as between her own agility, armor, and the shield, most shots never touch flesh.
The second is a more personal gift, one from her mother. One of the rings on her ear, when tightly squeezed, triggers a series of memories in Daria's mind, flashing through her life at home with her mother, and all the moments they shared.
Biography: Daria grew up in "scenic" southern Ohio, living in the suburbs with a single, hardworking mother. Delilah Shay was only 25, barely out of college when she gave birth to her daughter, and worked no less than two jobs at any given moment to keep their home. Although she was rarely home, and Daria spent much of her young life with sitters, her mother made the most of every second she was at home. They drove to the park or the forest, or anywhere exciting, at any opportunity Delilah managed to get, and she showed Daria all the things she couldn't have truly come to appreciate through a textbook, or some pictures on the internet. She became very attached to her mother, and a big handful as she aged, her boundless energy slowly managing to overtake even her the elder Shay's enthusiasm and determination. Delilah barely slept; to this day, she claims Daria never slept.
Daria was sent to school at the age of 5, and managed to make a walking paradox out of herself. The friendliest child in class, and also the most violent. She played with anyone who would stand her company, and acted with a certain tenderness towards her friends. But if anything managed to tick her off, it usually got punched. Delilah had many talks with her teachers as the years pressed on about her child's dangerous behavior, but she already was well aware there was nothing she could do about it. It was in the girl's nature, all she could try to do was direct her talents into healthy outlets.
She enrolled her daughter in martial arts classes, though she was forbidden from sparring with the other children "for her safety". Delilah encouraged her to excel at gym class; that came without trying. Strangely, what pacified her most was reading. Daria loved stories of war, of bloodshed and violence, and yet became calmer through them rather than more charged. She read of great legends, of the legendary heroes of Greece. Heracles, Perseus, and their battles with savage beasts. She read of the war of Troy, and found herself enthralled by the machinations of its characters. She once tried to read Frank Miller's 300, but it upset her stomach for some reason.
By the time Daria was pressing through middle school, she was never far from the center of her classmates' web of gossip. More athletic than the boys and the only girl who seemed to have zero interests in the others' dealings. She was often mocked for her strange behavior, as well as her tastes, be they in fashion, literature, or gender. Daria herself was perplexed, meanwhile, at how no one else seemed to view the world like she did. Fighting was natural, it was a great pastime to share with a friend--why did everyone treat her like a monster when she got in a fight? She tried to find outlets for her aggression, but her gender often kept her from the more physical sports. She tried for years to join the Spartans, her school's wrestling team, but coach Aggie--a woman, she'd often note--denied her time and again on grounds of the team being boys only.
The truth that she learned in her sophomore year of high school was that she was a monster, of a sort. When her best friend was savagely beaten in the halls by a pair of hoodlums with nothing better to do, something snapped, and her inner nature got the best of her. Before she could even fathom what she was doing, she'd made sobbing bleeding messes of the both of them, and was well on her way to breaking every bone in their legs by the time she regained control. She fled, and ran to her mother, begging to understand what was happening to her.
Delilah was appalled, not at her daughter's actions, but at what they meant. She explained that the reason Daria had never met her father was that he wasn't like other men. He wasn't quite a man at all. His name was Ares, and he was a god. Daria was his daughter, and the inheritor of some of his strength. A demigod. And if her abilities were awakening, then Delilah couldn't keep her anymore. She explained to Daria that there was a place that would teach her to properly control herself, her abilities, out in New York.
They drove out the next day, and Daria became a member of Camp Half-Blood. With nothing but what her mother could pack in a night, as well as a small ring in her ear, she was left to start a new life, as a part of a world she'd only known in storybooks.
Daria has been a member of the camp for two years now, and has built herself a reputation as the go-to girl for a fight, or help fighting something else. Utterly fearless or dangerously stupid, either way she'll never turn down a fight. She's gotten into more than a few heated arguments with the camp's staff for her reckless behavior, although she tends to get a little slack for being a child of Ares and somehow pleasant, for the most part.
She has many friendly acquaintances, but few friends. Of course, that comes with the caveat that what she calls friends, most would call life partners. She has been very selective of who becomes a part of her inner circle, though when someone is in they are in completely, and they can rest assured that they've gained her absolute trust in every matter, and the kind of backup most could only wish for.
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