A bastard in more ways than one.
High Concept: Unscrupulous Son of Eros
Trouble: Loves himself and little else.
- Shot through the heart, and I’m to blame.
- Love Hurts
- Love is a Collar, and I hold the leash.
- Everybody loves me, eventually.
- All girls love bad boys.
Chest Deep: +7 Refresh
- Great (+4)
- Rapport, Shooting
- Good (+3)
- Deceit, Lore
- Fair (+2)
- Alertness, Discipline, Presence, Stealth
- Average (+1)
- Endurance, Conviction, Weapons, Athletics, Empathy
- -1 Sex Appeal +2 on Rapport rolls for seduction
- -1 Sniper +1 to shooting rolls for every zone away from target, provided you take no movement.
- -0 Dyslexia Reading any langauge other than ancient greek is difficult
- -0 ADHD Gain +2 to alertness vs. surprise attacks.
- -1 Matchmaker Rapport Manuever +2 to stir up target’s desire toward another creature. Does not change the nature of existing desires: A person who desires harm to another will be focused on their desire to harm them, for example. One target, must be in the same zone.
- -1 Extra Range Extends one extra zone.
- +2 Item of Power Wings of Eros: A long white coat received from his father.
- -1 Refinement 4 enchanted item slots linked to the coat.
- Armor 2, 3 uses per session (3 slots)
- Enchanted Arrow, 1 use per session, Weapon: 3 (1 slot)
- +1 Flight Form Lose access to powers below in coat form, lose access to powers above in flight form.
- -1 Wings Grants flight
- -2 Inhuman Speed +4 to initiative, +1 to athletics rolls, +2 to sprint rolls, and may move a single zone as a supplemental action with no penalty.
- -1 Refinement 4 enchanted item slots linked to the coat.
Base Refresh Level +7
Total Refresh Adjustment -5
Adjusted Refresh +2
Marcus Nielsen spent his early life in Baton Rogue, Louisiana, raised primarily by the older neighbors of his mother, an overworked but loving stripper his less-than-attentive father knocked up while arguing with his wife.
None of that is really interesting though. That might as well be an entirely different person. The Marcus Nielsen that exists now was born at the age of ten, when the weird bum that sat on the corner hauled him into a filthy alley as he passed by, and tried to kill him.
Indeed, it would have eaten him, if he hadn’t been rescued. The kind man with the two-colored sword and the scar stabbed the weird bum, and made him explode into dust that got all in Marcus’ mouth (which was more than a little gross). The man said his name was Luke, and Marcus’ father was special, and that meant he was too.
Marcus knew better than to talk to strangers, but … come on. This guy saved his life. That made it okay, right? And he wanted to take him to meet his father, and Marcus had always wondered about his father.
And thus did the Titan Army gain a useful half-blood for their cause, and all it cost them was one Cyclops patsy. And really, Cyclopes are a dime a dozen.
Marcus was never a true believer in the Titan’s cause. The more he saw of the Titans and the Gods both, the more he came to the conclusion that they were both a bunch of bastards, and no matter who won, humanity was clearly going to lose. But at least this side actually wanted him, and other children of the minor gods. Even better, his brothers and sister were here, with his father.
They all adored Eros. And unlike other gods, he was around! Granted, that’s because he coudn’t go to Olympus safely, so he had nowhere else to be, but still! Despite harsh, violent, painful training and the occasional need to murder some people, those were the best two years of Marcus’ life. So what if he learned to use his power to bring people together as a way to manipulate and control people for his own benefit? Who cares if it led to him viewing other people as expendable pawns? Does it really matter that he was allowed, encouraged even, to be heartless, selfish, and craven? To give no regard to mortal life?
Nah, there’s nothing wrong with any of that. All that mattered was, he had family. He had friends, sort of. He had rank. He had expendable minions. He had trophies, collected from the corpses of his enemies. And he had freedom.
Marcus doesn’t have freedom any more. Not since the war. He still has his trophies, though. And that’s part of the problem.
When the tide first seemed to turn against the Titans, Marcus suggested to his siblings that they defect or surrender, immediately. Alas, his brothers and sister were either more loyal or more brave than he, and refused to do so. Marcus loved his brothers. And his sister. Despite only knowing for them two years, he was fiercely loyal to them all, and despite his best judgement, he decided not to leave if they didn’t.
And once they died, there wasn’t much reason to stay, now was there? Marcus ordered his soldiers into an attack he knew would be suicide, and fled to find a position held by the enemy and surrender. He expected to be beaten, to be asked to reveal all he knew and perhaps beaten some more anyway, just in case, because that’s how things usually rolled among the Demigods on his side. He preferred not to think about anybody that surrendered to the monsters. As it turned out, his surrender was accepted, he was restrained, and asked politely for information.
Four years later, Marcus is beginning to wonder if beatings and torture might not have been kinder than what he ended up with. When the war ended, he was taken back to Camp Half-Blood. He, and other prisoners of war (or as they called them ‘new campers’) were given temporary quarters until jails (cabins) could be prepared for them. Any that formally apologized, renounced the Titan Lord’s rule, and turned over any trophies collected from fallen campers, were (officially) treated no differently than any other half-bloods. Those who didn’t meet all of those requirements, well…
Marcus hadn’t left camp for more than a few hours in four freakin’ years. There was that one trip, with Daniel, but that went terribly and didn’t last near long enough. He had made his false apologies. He had no trouble renouncing the rule of someone he never cared for to begin with, especially since he didn’t exactly rule anything since he was punted back to Tartarus. But the trophies … well, that was just bullshit. He was keeping his damn trophies. He earned those, with his own (minions’) blood, sweat, and tears. And they were really cool.
Marcus doesn’t admit to having any power. He pretends that, like his aunts in the aphrodite cabin, all he really has going for him are good looks and an intuitive way with the opposite sex. He keeps his ability to affect peoples’ desires to himself, and never speaks of the properties of his coat, a gift from his father. Despite general unpopularity, he still manages to attract girls, partly due to his good looks, partly because his history has cultivated a touch of a ‘bad boy’ persona, and more than a little because he can force them to take an interest in him.
At this point, Marcus is looking to get out of Camp. He thinks quests are ridiculous bullshit, but he’s getting desperate enough to jump at one if he can manage it, just to get out. Granted, his step two in that plan is to blow off the quest, take his pack full of trophies off to someplace nice and warm, and never come back, but who’ll notice? Demigods fail to come back from quests all the time. That’s just the nature of the beast.