fandomhigh | True Heroism! The Olympian Way! Session 2, Period 3

This week, Hercules had the class gather in a secluded part of the preserve. Hey, it was summer, why coop the kids up in a classroom?

Hercules was again in his normal sash-skirt-sandals get-up, though he'd passed on the oil this week. That had just been for flash's sake. This week, however, he had his arsenal all on his person, instead of stowed. A great helm was held by a strap around his neck, but not worn on his head. The sword from last week was sheathed at his side. A quiver on his back held a bow and arrows, and on one arm he carried a round shield, highly engraved, with a cloth tied around and around the center, as if to cover the center of the shield.

Which was important, because accidentally turning his class to stone was a bad thing.

When the class gathered, it would have been hard of them to miss the fact that there was a small stack of crates behind their instructor.

"I did not become a hero just by being born the son of Zeus, much like young Percy here was not made a hero by matter of birth. Nor the mighty Warren because of his wings," Hercules said, before he paused. "Which reminds me, you two are now my official teaching assistants as of today!" Hercules grinned at that prospect. "You will both serve well, I think. And I won't lead you into horrible danger. At least, not in class!" He laughed at that, because Herc tended to love his own jokes.

"But I have digressed. It is not a matter of birth that makes a hero. It is not even the lofty goal. Those who persevere through stacked odds, terrible misfortunes, to achieve their selfless goals, that is one of the key elements in being heroic. So today, I will give you your own hardship through which you can persevere!"

He grinned, and gestured at the stack of crates. "In these crates are chocolate bars, bags of marshmallows, and packages of graham crackers. Everything one needs to make a s'more. But here's the trick... first you must break open the crates. And then you will need to start a fire. And while you do this, I will play the part of the bandit and plague your efforts. I promise not to use the shield of Perseus to full effect, though." He laughed.

"If you have any questions, best to ask them now."

And after questions were answered, Hercules declared. "Well, noble heroes and heroines, it is your quest to make the magical s'mores! Go forth!" And then he put on the Helmet of Hades and promptly became invisible.

Hey, no one said he was playing fair in his efforts to plague his class' efforts.

[ooc: ~~Please wait for OCD!~~ Class is up and open!]

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"Yeah, looks like it's really gonna give any minute," Percy agreed with a smirk. "Think we're allowed to use swords?"

[I might be a little slowish, apologies]

Hands went to her hips, and Kate looked across at him.

"Mine doesn't smuggle easily." It was unfortunately glowy and noticable. "Hence the kicking." She shrugged, "But they didn't say not to..."

Percy scratched his cheek and wondered if Hercules would get pissed if he used the sword. More than that, would he get pissed if Percy had used a sword that once belonged to Hercules himself?

"True." He was still hesitant. "This sword...might get his attention. It, uh, used to be his. Well, not his, but Hercules'."

"Desecrating a demi-god's sword by using it as a crowbar..." Possibly not the smartest move.

"But do you have any better ideas?"

"You can keep kicking it," Percy offered, unable to hide a small smirk.

"We could use your head," she tossed back. "It looks hard enough. You mind?"

"You mind me shoving my fist in your face?" Percy wondered, raising an eyebrow. "My hand wouldn't hurt."

"That's not going to help our cause," she pointed out, tapping the box with the toe of her boot again. "But its nice to see you getting into the spirit."

Percy rolled his eyes and finally changed Riptide from pen to sword, pointing it down towards the ground.

"Would you rather I use my sword instead of my fist?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Trying to slice my face off might draw the attention you apparently don't want." Just a guess. That wouldn't stop her from keeping a close eye on what he was doing with the thing.

"Just hold the crate," Percy told her, bringing Riptide up closer to the crate. "And if you move it, you are gonna get my fist in your face. Count on it."

And he would likely get a similar response right back. She tended to take a dim view on restraint when it came to people punching her in the face.

Kate rolled her eyes, and stepped up to put herself behind the crate, making sure he could push against it and get a decent amount of resistance. "Come on then. Give it your best shot."

She obviously didn't know what kind of sword this time. He rolled his eyes at her and took a hard, smooth swing down at the top of the crate to pop it open pretty easily.

He stood back and smirked. "Ta da!"

"Impressive." Well. It was. Even Kate wasn't going to bother denying that. "What's your encore?" she asked, nudging a piece of wood off her foot and peering to check out the goods.

"Do a little dance?" Percy suggested sarcastically. "Screw it, there's no encore. We've got the crates open so now you can make the fire."

Kate smirked. "Easy part." Not everyone had a belt with enough pouches to not only hold small amounts of various plants, bandages and a spare R-kit, but also lighter fluid and matches. She did.

It didn't take her long to scrape together leaves and a few pieces of wood, douse them with fluid and toss a match on the whole damn lot.

Some people might call it weird. Kate called it 'prepared'.

"Tada!" she repeated back at Percy.

"What the hell kind of belt is that?" Percy asked, blinking. "How heavy is that thing?"

"I don't keep rocks in it." It was all light stuff, at least. "I think of it as my Ratman belt."

Voron's first rule: only take what you can carry. Kate had learned to stretch that advice right to its limit.

"How fashionable of you," Percy quipped, smirking. "I'm jealous. Oh wait, no I'm not."

"Yeah, I wear it because its fashionable." Kate barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes at him again. "It's practical." Most girls had handbags full of make-up. She had a crazy utility belt of magic ingredients (and if she weren't in school, multiple knives). Different priorities.

"Too bad if it hurts your delicate fashionista sensibilities."

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