Shattered

Mr. D

Dionysus reassembled himself on the ashes that had been the big house only moments ago. He did make some changes to his mortal shell though, opting to look more like Curtis Armstrong. This new form should make him look less approachable to the brats under his protection.

Well, were under his protection he corrected himself.

He surveyed the destruction around him. The world would have been monochrome if not for the few fires that burned throughout the remains of what had once been Camp Half-Blood. There wasn't a structure left standing, even the stone slab that made up the foundation of the dining pavilion had shattered into a million little pieces. The once lush fields whose harvest paid for the camp's mortal expenses were nothing but smoldering piles of ash now.

Dionysus frowned. Those fields had been his one source of joy in this gods forsaken dump. That and his kids he had to remind himself. Looking back he should have thought of his kids first, then fields. Wait the council was first. Wait no, the kids. Okay so it was his kids first, then the council, and then the fields. Nailed it. It was a little known fact that Dionysus was the most caring of all the Olympians when it came to the half bloods, and he prided himself on that fact.

I am one amazing, caring god.

He continued to survey the damage around him. The forest that was inside the camp's borders was dead. Many of the trees had been uprooted, some were snapped into pieces, and many were charred. All that remained of the smaller forms of plant life were the ashes that were raining down from the sky.

Great, I'm  going have to hear about this from Demeter, Persephone, and Artemis for the next century or so...

The lake wasn't any better. The once thriving aquatic life that had inhabited the lake was now floating belly up. The previously crystal clear waters were now black with ash. The surface of the lake was covered in various debris; trees, chariots, corpses, that kind of stuff that most frowned upon. 

The world around him was eerily quiet, the only sound being the crackling of flames. There were no longer any campers laughing, naiads gossiping, or satyrs playing their woodland instruments.

Taking the rare moment of solitude, he let one rip one. "Thank Zeus, I've been holding that in for twenty years now!" he exclaimed to the charred world while fanning his back side.

Feeling relieved, he began recall the events leading up to the destruction of the world around him.

The morning had started off normal enough. Some campers had been caught sneaking around past curfew the previous night so he had issued their punishments; one week of giving him foot rubs. They should have been flattered to receive such an honor, but demigods were a strange lot. You can lead a chimera to water but that didn't mean it would tickle the naiad.

Shortly after that his kid, #1356, had joined him on the big house's deck where he had attempted to teach him Blackjack. It was a wasted endeavor though. Who hits on nineteen? #1356 departed shortly before the midday meal.

While everyone was occupied eating, He had tried to transform a bottle of water into a bottle of Chateau de Chassilier. He had been so close to! The liquid had just turned a shade darker, when everything snapped back to normal. Not for the first time, Dionysus considered converting to Catholicism. As far as he knew, every Sunday they would gather at a church and eat some kind of cracker and drink wine. Those sounded like his kind of mortals! Well, them and the Italians.

Speaking of Italians, that son of Hades: Maya Angelou, had left camp shortly after that. He supposed he should have gone after the kid, as was his job/punishment, but whatever.