<div align="center"><em>Abigale Norwick with Chloe Stanger</em></div><br/><hr/><br/>Abby listened as she explained what had happened. Not too uncommon. Hydras were a little rare these days, but not unheard of. This girl had been very lucky to escape. Not many got to meet a hydra and live to tell about it, "Well, you're very lucky. A hydra is nothing to just brush off. I'm guessing it only had a few heads. The more heads, the harder it is to avoid being ripped to shreds. You had a good satyr," Abigale had met very few satyr that weren't good at what they do.<br/><br/>The daughter of Hermes watched as Chloe's bag was emptied. This girl was either very lucky or very unlucky, Abigale hadn't decided which yet, "No, you're not a god, but one of your parents is. I'm not sure which," being clumsy could easily come from a mortal parent. Not many Gods she knew of were all that clumsy. Even her own father was highly detail oriented when it came to certain things. And physical appearances were hard to judge. While almost every pointed nose kid in the camp was a child of Hermes, that didn't mean all of them were. And there were several with blond and brunette hair. Not to mention those like herself that dyed, pierced, and tattooed, "We won't really know till you get claimed. That could take days, weeks, months, even years...sometimes never. Some of the Gods are better at doing that than others," leaning down, she helped Chloe start picking her things up, "As a child of a god, that means you're a demi-god. A hero. Ever hear of Heracles? He was a demi-god. So was George Washington."<br/><br/>"Do you have a mom or a dad?" some at least had their mortal parent. Though some had no parents and some had two parents and were just unaware that one of them was a step-parent.<br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/><div align="center"><em>NPC Satyr with Dante Clearwater and meeting Mr. D</em></div><br/><hr/><br/>This was a common situation for satyrs and this one was used to it, "They aren't<em>those</em>Greek Gods. They are<em>the</em>Greek Gods. Two of, actually. You'll do well to speak a little more respectfully with their names," he warned, "A Colchis Bull is a bull. A very large one and made of bronze. Not something you want to mess with," he watched as Dante got up to leave after demanding to see Mr. D, "I wouldn't go making demands of Mr. D. He doesn't take very kindly to that!" he didn't stop the demi-god this time. Mostly because he'd drank the nectar. If he could walk, then he was obviously going to be okay by satyr standards, "Have fun on your own and don't go in the forest!" he belted out as he started to clean up the infirmary.<br/><br/>Dante didn't have far to go to find Mr. D. The old, scruffy god was on his way back to the Big House anyway. He didn't feel the need to sit around eating dinner with the brats. He would rather sit in his room and drink a diet coke. Gah, he hated the stuff, but it was the best he could manage till his punishment was up. A hundred years without wine! It was torture. He wasn't sure he could make it that long, but Chiron kept him on his toes about it. Any time he started to grow grapes or summon a glass of wine, the old horse 'tsk-tsked' him. It was like being a child again and his nanny was a big horse.<br/><br/>Seeing a demi-god running out of the infirmary, he shook his head and yawned a little. While he wasn't about to be buddies with any of them, he would punish them, "You should be at the pavilion. What are you doing at the Big House?" he snapped, scratching at the back of his head. All around Dante's feet started sprouting vines, tangling themselves around the boy's ankles and legs, "Going to tell me what you're doing or do I have to strangle it out of you?" he yawned again when the satyr popped it's head out the window and yelled that it was an injured demi-god and that he'd demanded to see Mr. D, "Looking for me, huh? Raising hell in my camp, eh?" while he hated it here, it was technically his camp till his punishment was up, "Go on then. Why don't you tell me what you're wanting?" he raised an eyebrow.<br/><br/>While Mr. D wasn't very imposing to look at, a bit overweight, scruffy, that I-wish-I-was-drunk look in his blood-shot eyes, and his bright yellow shirt...his voice was strong and there was a strong presence about him.