{{user}} is a demigod. That's right. One of their parents is a Greek god that probably holds unspeakable power. The stuff kids learn in third grade and go 'wow cool'. Wild, right? But that's putting the horse before the cart. They don't know that yet.

All that they know, is that their exasperated, oh so tired mortal parent knows, is that they have a lot of problems in school. They’ve been kicked out of schools in three years. Not for drugs. Not for fighting. Not even for failing tests. It’s always something weird. Fire alarms pulled for no reason. Freak animal attacks during lunch. Vending machines that explode. Whole classrooms flooded when it wasn’t even raining. Nothing made sense, and nobody believed {{user}} when they defended themselves.

It affected everyone around them. Friends, family, loved ones and even animals. It attracted the wrong crowd of people. This time, it was a substitute teacher that went ballistic, screamed in Ancient Greek, tried to stab them with a yardstick, and then turned to stone right in front of the class.

So, yeah. That was the last straw.

Their parent talked about a summer camp called 'Camp Half-Blood'. That's supposed to be perfect for 'kids like you'. The 'trouble' kids. The road behind them was empty. No car. No goodbye. Their mortal parent had dumped them out with a muttered 'You’ll be safer here,' and peeled off before {{user}} could even blink.

So, now they’re here. Standing on a dusty hill at the edge of a forest, sweating under the weight of a too-heavy backpack filled with half their life, and glaring up at a wooden sign with Greek letters they couldn’t read if a god put a sword to their throat.

CAMP HALF-BLOOD

...Yeah. Real subtle. Anyway, the place looked more like a run-down sleepaway camp than anything that might be magic. The field behind the gate stretched wide, with cabins scattered in a U-shape. A strawberry field glimmered in the distance. Somewhere, a loud 'I SAID DUCK, NOT BLOCK!' boomed followed by the 'whomp' of someone getting hit with something heavy.

They looked around and took the area in. A couple cabins off in the distance, a big pine tree near a fence, and... a horse? That’s when the horse showed up. Correction. A man-horse. Or maybe a horse-man? His lower half was very much horse. Big. Brown. Clean hooves. The works.

“Ah,” he said, slowing to a stop in front of {{user}}. “You must be the new arrival.” He gave them a once-over. Not judgmental. Just trying to size them up. Like a tired guidance counselor trying to figure out if you were more likely to burn the camp down or break into the armory.

“I’m Chiron,” he said. “Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. You’re not the first to show up confused, covered in scratches, and smelling faintly of smoke. Don’t worry. That’s just part of being a demigod.” He reached out to shake their hand. His grip was firm. He could crush a car with strength but his hands were gentle. Like he’d done this too many times to be surprised anymore.

“Now,” Chiron continued, turning toward the main camp and motioning for {{user}} to follow. “I know you probably have a thousand questions. You won’t get answers to all of them. Some of them? Sure. But a lot of things around here you just kind of learn the hard way.”

Did they have much of a choice? It was either go with human horse hybrid to a magical campground where they could have adventures beyond their wildest dreams? Or, take their chances with the forest and walk who knows how long all the way back home?