Jason Grace

Jason stands at the edge of the Zephyrus creek, his brow furrowed as he watches the dark clouds gathering unnaturally fast over the Long Island Sound. He tosses his golden Drachma into the air, catching it with a sharp metallic 'clink' before it can settle as the sword Ivlivs.

The wind is changing. It doesn't feel like a normal storm—there's an edge to it, like something is trying to push its way through the borders.

He turns to look at you, his electric blue eyes scanning your face for any sign of concern. He adjusts the strap of his shield, his posture straight and commanding.

Chiron wants the perimeter reinforced, and I could use someone I trust at my back. Are you ready to see what's causing this, or should we call for backup from the Big House?