Ishmael's Story

In complete disregard for whatever else was occurring in camp at the moment, Ishmael had all but locked himself away inside the Hephaestus cabin, and was working away at nothing in particular. He was practicing building things that did not require using the forge, a variety of items that went into metal items, and sometimes not. Nothing noteworthy, not yet, and he kept sanding away at what would hopefully turn into a longbow's beginning. He had spent a lot of the morning hours at the forge already, fine tuning the basics of working with glowing hot metals. He preferred keeping to his cabin and working on whatever came to mind, and not just because of his apparent parentage. The crippled old bastard could go die in a hole for all he cared at this point, he was better off than before, and he got to pretty much waste time doing something he could enjoy. He hadn't been paying attention, and the piece of wood he was sanding away at was far too thin to be of any use at this point. Scowling, he chucked the piece of wood into the far corner, where several other wood chunks like it remained.

A scowl still planted firmly on his face, he stood up and brushed off the wood shavings that remained on his outfit. He always wore it, whether he was working at the forge or not. A streak of black, a jacket over an equally black shirt and a single cross pendant dangling from around his neck, with cargo pants and steel toed boots to finish the get up. After making sure none of the wood shavings, or anything else, was still clinging to his clothes, he slipped his wrench into his belt and walked out of his cabin, shielding his eyes from the too bright light. It was always too damned bright whenever there were no clouds, and once his eyes readjusted, he spotted Sage and some kid wearing the Camp Half-Blood outfit, and his memory kicked in. Oh yea, it was that sorry bastard that had gotten jumped coming here, and got his ass saved. Still breathing, and actually conscious? Well, there's something then.

Ishmael made his way that way, nodding in a way that was as close to amiable as the boy generally got to Sage, and looked over the new kid and raised an eyebrow. "Your alive, then? Lost that bet then, damn." He crossed his arms, having said what little he was going to at the moment. The fact he had to be dragged in and nursed for three days was hardly impressive. Then again, he did survive after all, so that was something. He decided that, if the kid was going to be here after all, introductions were in order so he dropped his arms to his side. "Well, since your breathing, your enrolled here most likely. Call me Ishmael, if you have to get my attention at all."

Ishmael shrugged when the mention of easy money being lost. "Eh, wasn't much, not worth wasting appreciable amounts of cash on." Sage, of course, had greeted him and asked about the project. He grinned at that, rather then anything else. One of the few ways to get him to grin or anywhere near smile was when he was given a project to work on, or was reminded of one. "Yes, yes, good day son of the dead. I've started dabbling with it, strange material as usual, I'll get it done when it gets done." Of course Ethan, one of the more well liked members of this camp, showed up and helped answer some of the kid who called himself Lucas, oh so original of a name, and unlike Sage's reaction, Ishmael did not show any real preference or happiness with the older fellow around. "Well timed, oh so beloved son of a thief's patron." He had gotten into trouble refusing to not somehow insulting every single person in this camp, in one form or another, but he never actually caused anyone real physical harm, so it was narrowly tolerated. It was his way of dealing with people, so that was that on the matter.

Lucas brought up the notion of the underworld being real, and Ishmael scoffed, already having an idea where his thoughts were going. "Lucas, didn't pay attention in school prior to here? Every single time someone goes down to Hell to try and bring someone back, it backfires horribly. Videotape the failure for me, would ya? Make a hell of a home video..." Ishmael's arms were crossed, and he watched the continued back and forth as questions were continued to be answered. He had a smirk on his face from his prior commentary, watching the reaction his commentary was getting thus far. The Lucas kid was more somber then most, and that didn't impress him too much. Yea, being kin to gods of various sorts was not fun, simply because of the impending drama, in his mind, but he dealt with it in a way that didn't depress the general area's mood. Not all at once, at least.

The one girl from the Apollo cabin was walking along, looked fresh from the hunt as usual, and he made his usual commentary that he did with just everyone else once she was within earshot. "Get anything good digging through the woods and such, bow girl? Obviously put a lot of effort into the dirty hippy thing." It was somewhat half hearted, compared to what the others had received thus far, simply because from what little in dealings had been done, she hadn't really reacted in any way that was remotely entertaining. He kept his eye on the others, but his stance was keeping everyone somewhere in front of him. He'd been thrown into fights due to what he'd said on more than one occasion, and it paid to keep newcomers in his line of sight until their general reaction was pinned down.

Ishmael chuckled as Max made her retort, shrugging at the bit about meat for the evening. "Yea, couldn't have been all that much. We'd all starve relying on that alone." He kept his arms crossed as she proceeded to introduce herself to Lucas who certainly did not look happy. That seemed to be a regular thing, from what he has seen of the boy, which would be a direct ticket to becoming oh so popular, sarcasm intended fully in the thought. Ethan had taken his comment in that happy smiling manner he always did, but one of these days there would be an angle he would get under the older boy's skin. That would be the day things went downhill, and he didn't really give that train of thought any more thought. Sage went about explaining how quests worked, and how they never occurred with any normality, and he smirked at the general thought about Ethan having failed his quest. It was good to see the oh so masterful swordsman knocked down to their level, not even he being able to finish his quest. But that was that, and he smirked as he listened to Lucas asking about either him or Max tagging along and shook his head before speaking.

"As much as it would so much fun elaborating on the bet, and making continued commentary, I've work to do at the forge. And if someone is going to be sore over losing $5 on a bet, then they've more issues than having bet on your death. I'll pay you your $5 later Sage, I'll talk to you ever so fine bastard sons and daughter of the gods later." With that he turned and walked off, having made his last jab at their general parentage, the true one at any rate. He would make some progress on Sage's project he requested that he do some work. Then, as per Ethan's ever so elegant request, he would be stuck at the arena introducing his wrench into some poor sod's groin. But it was the easiest thing in the world to do, he just kept his head down whenever possible in those situations and get back to his forge as quick as possible. He got to the cabin and went about gathering the various materials and half finished bits to keep getting things further done. It was a nice way to get away from people, as much fun as pointing out their flaws was. He got to work without really wasting time, only having maybe half an hour or so before he would have to head to the arena.

Ishmael hadn't heard Max's comment or saw the brief falter in the ever present smile that she generally displayed, so he didn't have a off thought in his mind as he went to work at the forge, hammering away at the project that Sage had given him to do. It was making very good progress, all things considered, and hadn't proven anything he couldn't handle thus far. It was certainly unique material, and he was going to end up using most of it in the work at hand. But he would have a bit left over, which he would stash away for either modifying the weapon or adding some extra bite to another project he would work on in the future. All he knew was it was a pain in the ass to work with at the best of time, as he was still working on the various basic framework and large bits to the project. Of course Sage wanted something this complex, why he bothered humoring the son of the dead man's lord was beyond him. But here he was, still slaving away at the forge and anvil, hammering and forging each metal piece into its correct form. This was far from done after that, assembly would have to wait many moons. It was during a break between forgings that he noticed it was all but time to head to the mandatory arena match, and as usual, he was practically running late.

Scowling, Ishmael made sure a certain key was on his person and cleaned up briefly, brushing off the metal shavings from the rods, and left the cabin. He moved at a brisk walk, arriving at the arena in relatively short order. Lucas was there, practicing at one of the numerous dummies that were set up for people to attack. He spent as little time in the arena as humanly possible, he generally had more interesting or important things then playing warrior. One more reason he insisted on sticking with his weapon of choice, if you could call it that. The key itself grew into a full sized monkey wrench, and people had stopped laughing at it, despite its lack of elegance or reach. After giving several people severe concussions, they understood the brute force worked well for the boy. That, and it fit his rather lacking social graces, being rather blunt about things, and not terribly nice to boot. But he didn't head to any of the dummies to start smashing away at it with the wrench, instead finding a nice shady spot to relax for the time being. One more way he went about trying to get on Ethan's nerves, really. He observed Lucas training, and the entrance for the others he bothered to deal with on a regular basis.

Ishmael shrugged a bit as Sage made a comment about Lucas being hard at work. "So it seems dead boy, but hey, if he really went and murdered some oversized goat headed freak of nature, who knows." He had also noted the apparent idea he had gone and murdered some minotaur than hey, good for him. He took a place in the circle as Sage stood, producing that sword of his and walking towards it, slipping a rusty key out of his pocket. It shapeshifted into his weapon of choice, a wrench and he took his place formally, near one of the edges of the ring. It was the pit fighting thing, and he didn't bother moaning like the rest of the camp did. He was not the honorable fighter that the vast majority of camp members were, or the ranged folks that could dance out of reach of swords and such, but he could hold his own. He was quietly glad for the wrench as the thing gifted to him, it was a tool as much as anything else. Ethan drew his blade, Lucas the first fighter of course. What a shocker, son of Hermes off to steal the glory again. Befitting his parentage, really.

Lucas charged blindly, getting spanked and missing completely. What a brilliant swordsman there, he couldn't help but think. Blindly charge someone who was already named one of the best bladesman in the camp and expect to land anything that way. He was smirking as he watched the current fight, Ethan having of course showing up Lucas in the first blow, as his thoughts had previously wandered by. He muttered, audible to those near him, but not actually making loud commentary. "For killing a minotaur, bastard son of an unnamed god isn't doing shit to impress here." Ishmael was keeping the smirk on his face as he watched, not snickering just yet, although a few others had started. No fun really laughing at someone outclassed like this, unless it got better then the odd swatting blow to the rear and actual instruction through combat.

Ishmael kept his arms crossed, the time in the Arena much quicker than usual. Then again, a new kid was here who needed to know who to blame for his current lot in life. Lucas was trying, but as he heard Sage barely, Ethan was infinitely more dangerous then a Minotaur for the sole fact he had a brain. That didn't mean much, not really, as the glory hound of a thief's son was all about being the best in a fight alone. But it wasn't none too impressive how Lucas handled himself, regardless, considering how much people had been talking about this new kids slaying of a minotaur. Then again, it was three day recovery period, so that was hardly as impressive when added in there. Of course the centaur teacher Chiron waltzed in and announced the dinner time was upon them. He stalked off in the same direction as the other kids, towards the pavilion where food was being served. Fancy plates had whatever the holder wanted, which for him was a light meal that he honestly never paid close attention to what it was specifically, it was usually a combination of a steak, burger, or chicken with various matching sides. He went through the required motions as Chiron led the way through such things, doing the sacrifice of the best bit of the meal. He only did it due to being required, nothing more and nothing less. He sat down afterwords and started eating, wolfing his meal down fairly quickly. If he could get away with taking meals back to the forge and workshop and resuming his work, he would, but he couldn't, so he dealt as best he could.

Ishmael looked up from his wolfing down of food when Sage sat down and asked him what he thought of the new guy, Lucas. He smirked and downed a healthy amount of his drink before responding, washing down what he had eaten so far. No he didn't question the apparently matching food to what he wanted, and no he didn't question the drink. "My thoughts? Well, first impressions are the talks overblown. He got lucky with the minotaur, couldn't even give Ethan a run for his money. Yes, even though the son of thieves is the best swordsman here, if he was worth the rumors there would be something notable. Can't say anything nice about him as a person either. Your thoughts?" Ishmael resumed eating after his analysis, if you could call the series of insults and thinly veiled ones an analysis. Of course Sage would wander the various tables, its what he did, and sat here tonight. Sage tolerated his generally antagonistic and cynical outlook, or just didn't care, so that made him one of the rare oddities in this damned camp. That alone was worth cutting the guy some slack, but by no means a large amount, it was noticeable if someone looked at his way of treating people generally versus those who could at least make a serious claim at friendship. But those thoughts were rapidly banished as he went about finishing his meal, listening to how Sage responded to his own thoughts on the new kid.

Ishmael made a scoffing noise at Sage's prediction and analysis of the new kid. "Yea? And you sound like someone plucked out your eyes, made you a girl, and stuffed you in some temple to guess about people's futures in unclear ways, talking like that." He utterly dismissed the outlook that he wasn't a normal demigod. He didn't think you could call a demigod normal by any means or circumstances, so that was that. Of course, he grinned madly when Sage told him to bring Them, and laughed despite being told not to bring anything new. Nothing could dampen his spirits when he got to bring his toys out to play, even if the new ones that needed field tested were kept away another day or so. "You got it, dead boy. It's game time." He stood up with the rest, that half mad grin still on his face as he took off at a brisk jog, heading straight for the cabin he resided and worked in. There were a series of somewhat large cubes, that he stuffed into a duffel bag and slung over his shoulder. Gripping his wrench in one hand, supporting the weight of the duffel bag in the other, off he went, grinning all the way. This was a bad habit no one could break him of, finding far too much enjoyment seeing his inventions and creations unleashed on other people, for good or ill.

Arriving at the field itself, Ishmael had not changed a thing about his appearance. No additional armor, no different outfit, just that streak of black, the only thing standing out was the duffel bag. He found Sage and walked over to him, setting the duffel bag between them and smirking. "Sure I can't run off once They are set to go? I think the ol' wrench needs to bushwack some poor sod. And the old centaur can't bitch, I won't maim. Only a minor concussion or three..." As usual, looking for ways to butt heads with everyone he could possibly do so. He got a lot of lee way if he just stayed out of people's way in general, and it worked well for him that way. He generally avoided the Arena whenever able, taking meals in his cabin, generally being anti social in favor of his work. Of course, it spawned things like what was in his duffel bag, so he proved he was actually using his time constructively. Mostly, and the odd backfire was overlooked, he was improving on not causing an explosion from his latest gadget or piece of equipment being made. Mental note there, as he tried to reign in his random train of thought, don't mix metals for Sage's project. That would be bad, sure as sure.

Ish smirked and recovered from the swing, wrench held in front of him defensively at the moment. Lucas went on about owing him one for the bet, and he smirked. "Oh, do you now? 5$ and its paid off then." He had a backup plan in case things proved difficult to engage with his wrench, against a sword and dagger. He was deliberately keeping Lucas between himself and Max, because he would rather avoid having an arrow stuck in some part of his body. Wherever Sage was, it would be ever so helpful for him to distract the archer so he could focus solely on wrenching the new blood into next week. Twirling the wrench in his hand, he looked over how Lucas was standing with his weapons. He had reach, but his wrench would cause some rather hefty hurt, even if the helmet might stop some of the damage, it would still be solid. Now, he had to even the playing field, after all, two weapons against one was hardly considered fair.

Stepping in for another attack, he swung for the ribs on the sword side, deliberately trying to bait Lucas into making a thrust with his dagger. If he fell for it, the wrench would be snapped down towards the dagger arm, to try and force him to drop said weapon. Of course, if he let that potential opportunity pass he could just dance back just out of reach of the blades and plot another means of attack. Worse comes to worse, he could just cheat, and he wouldn't have a problem doing it, so he went through with the apparently heavy handed attack towards the sword side, ready to sidestep and bring the wrench right into the dagger arm, if it became an issue. He had to keep an eye out for what miss archer would try and do to help Lucas, if possible, but considering the lack of arrows coming his way, he was keeping too close for her to be comfortable to start firing off arrows.

Ishmael smirked as he parried with the dagger instead, ducking back before moving forward in a downward slash with his sword. Rather than outright block, he decided to sidestep, putting the sword arm between him and the dagger arm and swinging hard towards the extended sword arm. If the sword was indeed knocked out of his hand, he would follow up with a blow towards his helmeted head, aiming to connect and, if nothing else, dent in the helmet and cause discomfort and injury from the blow before dancing back out of reach. If the sword wasn't lost, he would still just move out of reach rather than try and make another assault so quickly while he was still armed. Either way, Ishmael had decided this was taking too long in a normal one on one fight, and he needed to wrap things up. He heard conflict from Max's direction, so it seemed Sage had engaged after all. Good, more focus on the fight at hand then.

Keeping his wrench in hand, he pulled on a black glove before reaching into his pocket and grabbing a pouch full of something Sage would recognize the moment he used it. The project that was requested of him had left a bit of scrap product so far, shavings from the iron used. By accident, he had found a rather unique property that he would abuse here to end this quickly, if everything went as planned. "Not doing bad, new blood. Let's up the ante, shall we?" Ishmael didn't even care if he sounded like a comic book villain or not, he was going to enjoy this. Quickly withdrawing his hand, he threw up a good handful of Stygian iron shavings, not caring whether anyone approved of this trick or not. He averted his gaze from the shavings, as they did what one would expect of a material used in the underworld. It abruptly devoured the moonlight and starlight in the area above Lucas, casting him in utter darkness. It wasn't permanent or long lasting, but it would do as he circled around Lucas until he was behind him and drove the wrench for the back of his helmeted head, and did try and avoid making the same mistake as before in not watching where he stepped.

Ishmael grinned as the blow connected with the back of the blinded Lucas's head, and he went down into the river. That should have shaken him harder than he was acting, even if the helmet had taken some of the brunt. That was odd, even half bloods were shaken by hard hits to the head. Blunt weapons were all but made for dealing with armor, and he should have been staggering or at least shaken by the blow. Instead he was taunting and acting like he hadn't been all but desperately fighting against someone with more training. There was something off about this, and he wouldn't pretend he didn't notice. Increased confidence, any energy he lost fighting seemed to be coming back, and he was acting like the helmet would have taken all of the wrench's blunt force. All this seemed to come together after he landed in the creek, and he stalked back and forth briefly, readying his wrench. He had a theory, but there was only one real way to test a theory like this, and that was in hand to hand combat, even if this would backfire.

"Tadpole, if that was my best I would hang myself in shame. Can't be bothered to do my best in a CTF game." He was telling the truth there, whether it was believed or not. There had never been one situation where he was forced to try and do the absolute best he could do, a combination of spite towards those who were trying to force him to do better, and laziness. The new nickname was linked to his theory, but if it was wrong he could just explain it off as still mocking some new blood in the water. But he didn't just charge in, looking at the new position and situation. Unstable footing, water potentially slowing down movement and such, bad situation for someone who was more orientated towards fire. He didn't ever utilize said inclination, focusing on his craftsmanship, but this was a situation where he was wary of water for good reason. Things were off here, and he couldn't figure what. He entered the creek, still gauging the situation, carrying himself differently then before, more wary and defensive at the moment. But he did engage regardless, making feinting strikes with his wrench to try and figure out what was making the boy so confident.

Ishmael scowled and braced as best he could as the wave rose up and crashed into him. Even so, he still ended up out of the river, on the ground while completely and utterly soaked. He was anything but amused, and was picking himself up, noting a floating green symbol above Lucas. That confirmed his theory, sure as sure, but he very well wished he was wrong for once. This made things many times more complicated, to say the least. Of course, this wouldn't have stopped him from re-engaging, but another event completely did keep him from actually attacking again. One, whooping and hollering announced that his automatons had either failed before, or after, the people left to defend the flag had fallen and he would have to go salvage them. Two, a rather loud howl pierced the air shortly before a hellhound appeared inside the grounds. One, hellhounds were bad news in general and two, how in the hell did that thing get here? Someone had to summon it here, that was just how things operated here thanks to the protection the camp had. It pounced Lucas and tore into him, before Chiron stepped in and put down the hound. Lucas was unharmed, further reinforcing the claim laid by barnacle beard.

Chiron spoke to them, Sage being sent to help Max while he was told to go get into a dry change of clothes and scowled standing. "I'll get to that, right now my automatons need salvaged. Bastard son of thieves had to have wrecked them, stupid bloody idiots probably didn't listen to any instruction on their use..." He kept muttering as he stalked off to salvage what he could. He managed to find the wrecked parts of all four automatons, and he dumped the parts into the duffel bag he transported them here in, shouldering the bag before stalking off to the cabin he worked and lived in. Arriving, he dumped the bag next to his cot and changed clothing, leaving the soaked outfit out to dry for the time being. It was the same outfit as before, just dry, and he strode off to meet at the large house as instructed. His wrench had been tucked into his belt, and as he wandered in and crashed in the nearest chair he could find, not appearing to give Lucas a second thought or look. The centaur wouldn't begin until everyone else was here, and all this probably had to do with the fact of who claimed Lucas, which was trouble all in itself. But that would no doubt be covered, for now he leaned back on the chair, only two feet of the four on the ground like a normal person would sit, waiting for whatever would come of this.

Ish had his arms crossed as he listened to what Chiron went on about as he explained matters to Lucas. Yes, being the son of one of the big three was not a good thing currently, due to the minor and troublesome fact that they had made a deal not to have kids post WW2. Of course, Sage had went and shown that the dead king backed out on that agreement, as did barnacle beard. Then there was the whole thing with Zeus having backed out of the deal as well, that being a subject that he didn't approach ever. Not because he was respectful, mind you, but because he really had no interest in mocking that because it wouldn't get him the desired result. Lucas was told that it was time to see the Oracle, and he furrowed his brows. If it wasn't for the fact that things were as screwy as they were, and that Lucas's real father was who he was, none of this would be occurring. He did eventually return, and went on about what the Oracle had spat out. Well, wasn't that just ominous, dangerous, and ruinous all rolled up into one wonderful bundle of potential failure? Chiron just sent them all off to sleep once, and the bit about apparent friend betraying sticking in his mind. Watch him be observed like a hawk for that bit, even if he had steadily went out of his way to call him out and mock him for the time they had known each other. While he did return to his cabin, he had work to do before he slept, mainly fix the fact his wrench just did not have enough reach.

There was no time to forge anything, but he could use something else in the interim at the very least. Rummaging through some of his old creations and belongings, he dug out an old creation of his. Only one edge was sharpened, and was made into a very slashing orientated weapon, and held the form of a Scimitar. It was early on, before he preferred to make most weapons, barring specific requests, double sided and equally capable of thrust and cut. It even was transportable as an armband, something most of his common work didn't do, again, barring specific request. He crashed on the bed after having dug out the scimitar out of his box of old projects and passed out nearly instantly. He was too tired to question why he was being sent out with Max, Sage, and Lucas, considering his generally anti teamwork outlook and inability to be nice to anyone, ever. Being away from his forge would also make him unhappy and generally grumpy when not doing anything while they were traveling, but that would be dealt with in the morning when it dawned on him that all the prior were in fact reality, and not some long ass dream.

Ish's dreams, if you could call them that, were more like feverish flickering images of various outcomes his mind could come to, very few of them good. He never slept well, or dreamed terribly well when he did sleep, and when he woke up he scowled as he yawned. If it wasn't for the scimitar shaped weapon resting at the foot of his bed, he would have been tempted to write of the past week or so as a unusually long bad dream. Maybe waking up was part of the dream, and he was still fast asleep, or in a coma maybe. That could be comforting, in some way, being in a coma while all this madness went on. He shook his head, that train of thought being incredibly unlikely, to say the least. Grabbing the sword and letting it take the form of an armband as he sat at the edge of the bed, a scowl still planted on his face, before standing up and getting changed into a fresh outfit, still very reminiscent of his normal outfit. He didn't see the point of having a variety of clothing, refusing to wear the camp uniform so long as he had a reasonable alternative. A bit too celebratory of their collective curse, really, for him to parade around showing it off like it was a gift.

He went about packing essential items, extra sets of clothes, some tools so he could tinker and work on things when they were in private while resting overnight and such, other items that would prove useful on the trip that he had time to pull together. Mostly essentials for travel, he and his dad, his real one and not that damned cripple in the sky, had spent a fair amount of time away from him whenever Ish could escape school, so he was used to packing light for travel. Shouldering the backpack that he had stuffed with the necessary supplies for travel, he walked out of the Hephaestus cabin and ignored each and every other camper here and they ignored him in kind. No friendliness, no pity, and from Ish, no wasted breath or effort, nor a care that things worked that way. For anyone concerned, he was damn glad to be finally away from the camp, and he would have agreed with them completely. He spotted Lucas looking at the lone tree and approached, a loose grin on his face. "Quite the oddity, a tree alone on the hill, eh Coralbrain?" He didn't even sound slightly disturbed with the fact that he was being dumped on this suicide attempt at a blaze of glory to save the day. The Gods, specifically barnacle beard, were relying on an untrained and recently claimed Son, dead king's son, an Archer who being confronted in hand to hand resulted in a sprained ankle and a lost bow, and himself. They finally found a way to get rid of him without the awkward questions, it seemed, and he awaited the others and the metaphorical boot off camp into the world, maybe literal depending on who specifically saw them off.

Ish shrugged when asked about thinking all night. "Not really, considering your oh so stellar intelligence you've displayed thus far." Of course he just raised an eyebrow in mocking disbelief when told it was good to have a meatshield and smart ass about, although he didn't call it what it really was. Of course, Sage arrived as enthusiastic as ever while Max hadn't said a word to anyone here. Understandable, considering how royally screwed they probably where with the people going along for this quest. "Dead boy, morning doesn't mean upbeat. It's an indicator of too early for people to be up and about." Of all people to see them off, Ethan showed up practically forcing a gift on to Lucas. It was his winged shoes, from the sounds of things, and he smirked when he said favorite newbies. "Well, thieves son pawning off his shoes as a gift. Hoping to steal them back later, or have you finally gone far enough fairy that you can float without the bloody things? Ethan offers them a gift to help, and Ish goes and mocks and makes jokes at his expense in return. It was a good thing the gift wasn't meant for him, or that might have earned thief boy trying to take them back. Or not, he wasn't terribly receptive at times in that manner.

They all boarded the van that was driving them out at this point, and he half dozed in the farthest back seat he could have gotten to until Coralbrain, in his infinite wisdom, brought up making bets and he smirked. "Five dollars says Ethan wants me dead rather than see me return to camp. What the hell, most, if not all, of that bastard son and daughter camp of misfits and freaks probably want me out of their collective hair for good. Hell, that crippled old freak upstairs probably would be happy to see me gone too, eh?" He returned to his half dozing, putting half an ear to any responses from the others, but otherwise not seeming worried in the slightest. He still half expected to be the one accused of being the future traitor, simply due to his general outlook in dealing with the other campers, and Greek Gods in general. But that would wait until it came up, became an issue, whatever. He was taking advantage of the fact he could catch up on sleep on the van trip, dozing in the hopes of trying to catch up on his lack of sleep last night. Of course some epic quest to save the world, not like anyone would care if they succeeded or even know, would not lend itself well to a good nights sleep, which was why he was aiming to doze, half doze while listening to chatter, whatever he could make work.

Ish smirked as Max asked if he would prefer it that way, and he shrugged. It was worth some thought, when they weren't heading on a suicide mission, but he didn't have to indicate that he was going to take the thought seriously. "Why, tree hugger, that would make things easier. Beat the three of you to seeing dead boy's pop, see if I can't get the red carpet rolled out and everything!" Lucas decided to sling insults back, and he grinned at the boy as he did so. This was going to be fun, if the entire trip was spent shooting insults at each other and such. "Barnacle beard's kid, using pool insults? Way to quickly fall into poppa's lap there, coralbrain. I bet he'll be so proud of you." Sage remained silent during the entire 'discussion' between himself, Lucas, and Max, if one could call it that. It was a long enough trip to the bus station, where they were dumped tickets and Sage had made a comment on betting a grand on their survival. "Dead boy, inheriting all the dead millionaires money. And I thought thief boy was chilling back at camp."

Lucas dumped the shoes of flying on him, and Ish raised an eyebrow as he decided to try and beat him to the punch on insults, and chuckled. Oh yea, this was going to be a lot more interesting then he had initially thought. "Thank you oh so much, I always wanted a pair of shoes that can fly! My life is now complete, now that I can say a word and fly, while traveling with the accused thief of one of the big three's godly weapon, who is the god of air. Yes, that is such a perfectly brilliant gift, I cannot fathom the logic coming from such a thing." He hoped the sarcasm was clear enough, it shouldn't have been too hard to pick up on, and he shook his head and stuffed the shoe box in his bag. Sarcastic mockery or not, he might as well keep the damn things in case they had use at one point or another. He didn't rise to the bait of the helmet meeting wrench, he didn't have to. A wrench had badly dented in the helmet, transferring kinetic force. The water had all but cleared that up, but if he hadn't been barnacle beard's kid, that would have went vastly different. Some days he did have to hate the unknown variable, such as that. He did mutter to himself once more while waiting for the bus, ticket in hand. "Quest to save the world, glorious chariot of choice? Early AM bus ride..."

Ish smirked as both Max and Lucas made commentary towards his mutterings about the transport provided to them. "Oh, I guess I am the only one who finds it a tad odd that no better or more reliable transport can be provided than dumping us in some bus terminal and hoping we can make our way across the US in a rather short time span, find the item of value, and return it before all hell breaks loose, possibly literally, all the while praying to whatever's listening that things work out for the better, and previously mentioned thing doesn't decide to use us as pawns in some grand joke that leads to the end of everything as we know it. Yes, I did hope things wouldn't come down to that." He had utterly ignored the hushing from Lucas, of course, more talking to himself at this point than anyone else. His thoughts had returned to the group itself. An untested spawn of Barnacle Beard, a son of the god of the dead that could have very well swiped what they were looking for, a pessimist, cynic, and anti social blacksmith and engineer rolled into one, and an archer who was probably the most stable out of all of them right now. Of course trusting the future of everyone in the hands of such a team couldn't go wrong in the slightest!

Lucas and Sage went back and forth a bit on the whole Yancy Academy thing, which Ish didn't pretend that he had an idea what had gone on there. He didn't, and didn't make a comment for once, at least in that regard. The bus number, 82, started boarding and Lucas led the way, which Ish didn't particurally care about. By all means, let the one accused of theft, although if one would approach things logically it was highly unlikely, from what he knew, the boy had stolen anything, let alone an artifact of such power, lead the way. It was technically his quest after all. He sat but did not remove his backpack of gadgets, tools, supplies and what not. He muttered, breaking the silence between the four of them with a classic past time, gambling. "$5 says things start going south before the day is done." It was abrupt, and he smirked at the thought. Worse came to worse, he would have to pay but it would be a situation where it wouldn't hurt to be wrong.

Ish grinned when shoved by Max, and didn't shove back, chuckling and responding in kind. "Destiny and fate being what it is, me saying anything isn't going to change a thing, is it?" A cheap stab at the Greek Oracle's and how their prophecies always seemed to work out true in one way or another. Ish himself didn't buy the whole idea of fate and a lack of choice in the slightest. Humanity was too chaotic, too random, and there was enough human blood in the demi's that he had an idea that it was up to the individual whether they took after the Gods, including their apparent clinging to the Fate they are given, or take after the chaotic randomness of humans and wing it, for good or ill. Of course, when Sage got Lucas's attention, Ish observed what was worth interrupting their back and forth mutterings and such about occurring between the group. Three Kindly Ones, well that was not good, not in the slightest. He still had a self satisfied smirk on his face, really having hoped that someone would take him up on the bet now more than ever, rather than dwell on the fact that things were indeed going down hill, and hard too from the appearance of three.

Lucas spoke about a fight on the bus, and looked at the situation and had to agree. Of course all he did was smirk and shrug at the statement about jinxing luck. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a response of any sort, beyond a minor one at best. "Shame none of you took the bet." He was speaking quietly enough not to attract attention of anyone outside their group, of course, he wasn't so stupid as to boldly proclaim everything being said. The bus was narrow, barely enough room for any sort of normal day to day activity, let alone some sort of brawl between them and the Furies. Well, not if they tried and play fair fight with the creatures, and he did have a trick or two up his sleeves. Never left the cabin without something, it paid off when the Ares kids tried to pick fights of some sort or another. But hopefully that wouldn't be necessary, for the sole fact he didn't want to waste anything so early. On the bus, already pulling tricks? Of course, another issue was collateral between them and the normal folks on the bus. Sure, normal Bronze may not do a thing to them, but he hadn't the foggiest idea when it came to Stygian. Not the best time to find out, so he waited until provoked, and could provide a proper reaction.

Ish listened to Max's plan of having Sage shadow step Lucas up to the middle of the bus, and raised an eyebrow slightly. It was a good plan, for the most part, but for two immediate problems. It would exhaust Sage, most likely, and do all sorts of hilarious things to Coral brain's stomach. Well, hilarious if they weren't facing down three Kindly Ones and the tree hugger's plan was leaving him and her playing the bait. But, what the hell, not like there was a better plan coming from anyone. Before Sage and Lucas did there shadow walk, he smirked at Lucas and gave a bit of advice. "Coral brain, use the after effects of your first trip to try and fool the driver into stopping. Enjoy your trip sideways to the sun." They had hit the tunnel at this point, thrown into darkness. The three furies announced, in near unison, that they had to use the restroom. Ish couldn't help but keep smirking, stuffing the normal feelings under his normal demeanor of never taking anything the way most would. "Wonder if they realize the bathroom only has room for one, maybe two if you stuff em in tight..."

Of course, once they reached the back of the bus, they all started assuming there true form. He shot Max a look of 'Look at the mess you got us in' briefly as they began shrieking at the two of them. They were assuming their real forms alright, even uglier than before, handbags becoming flaming whips and taking on forms of part gargoyle, part bat, and cracking the whips to become even more intimidating. This of course set off a panic from the people, seeing something going on through the Mist, and their hissing was grating on his head currently. "Where is it? Where?"

Rather than state where they were Ish pointed straight up, and replied with a calm "Right up there, clinging to the ceiling to get the drop on you.". The closest one glanced briefly, enough of an opening for him. Wrench in hand, he swung hard sideways and bashed the fury clean in the head. "Hah! That's like falling for gullible on the ceiling!" Of course the wrench did little more than piss off the creatures, the one hit was a hell of a sight more than pissed, injured to boot, and he narrowly ducked a retaliatory whip strike. He was saving as much of his repertoire of tricks and toys, relying on his wrench and dumb luck to keep the distraction going. An added bonus was Max should have a chance to make a strike of her own. Whatever Sage and Lucas were doing, they needed to get in gear and do it. He'd done little more than piss off the furies, of course buying them time to do whatever they had in mind.

Ish scowled as the bus started swerving all over the place, no doubt Lucas and the bus driver fighting over control. Well, wasn't that just great, Furies angry and attacking, the bus was now making its best impression of apparently being drunk, and the only bit of good news seemed to be in that the bus had finally slammed to a halt and everyone was bailing out. Good, more room to work. He had grabbed hold of one of the supports to keep himself from falling about like that lost sock in a drying machine before it vanished utterly. Max had managed to start loosing arrows, and Sage had produced that black soul stealing sword of his and was getting into the swing of things now. Leave it to him to shake off the effects of the shadow walking so easily, but that left one fury charging right at Max. He used his braced position to slam into its side, using momentum and a leading blow with his wrench to throw it off course. He would leave the last Fury to Sage and Lucas, if the latter ever recovered enough to get his act in gear.

Once again, he had a pissed off Fury trying to express her anger via whip, and her anger focused on Ish. Well, wasn't that just great, he wrenched one, angered it, the bus went wild and Sage got two of their attention, and what did he do? Wrenched the remaining Fury. He muttered to himself, barely avoiding the cracking whip strikes. "Because that worked so well the first time..." Whether that was directed at the Fury, or himself, was up to debate. Later debate, sure, but debate none the less. If the whips weren't on fire, this would be a lot easier. But that didn't stop him from lashing out where he could, being every sort of nuisance possible. He couldn't get close enough to try and bludgeon her head in, too much angry fury and whip between him and that kind of target. So he just did everything in his power to keep the furies attention, every sort of attack to keep it from turning away, taunting it, ect ect.

"What, your lord and master that dry on useful tools that he sent you three old hags incapable to taking out a handful of kids?" Demi god kids with weapons capable of banishing them, sure, but kids none the less. Some of the blows he had made so far showed, not as well as he would have hoped, but it was some mythological creature who ignored the normal way things worked when it came to blunt trauma. That was hardly fair, and if he wasn't certain he would need everything in his bag, he would have started playing tricks on the creature. But that was that, and he hoped Max would line up a good shot to put down, or at least incapacitate, the Fury before it got a good hit in on him.