Percy scowled. "I-I know you." Nico raised his eyebrows. "Do you?— Rick Riordan
Perspective Son Of Neptune quotations
Part of their problem was Percy. He fought like a demon, whirling through the defender's ranks in a completely unorthodox style, rolling under their feet, slashing with his sword instead of stabbing like a Roman would, whacking campers with the flat of his blade, and generally causing mass panic.
Tyson, Frank is a descendant of Poseidon.
" "Brother!" Tyson crushed Frank in a hug. Percy stifled a laugh. "Actually he's more like a great-great-...Oh, never mind. Yeah, he's your brother." "Thanks." Frank mumbled through a mouthful of flannel.
You speak horse?" Hazel asked. "Speaking to horses is a Poseidon thing," Percy said. "Uh, I mean a Neptune thing." "Then you and Arion should get along fine," Hazel said. "He's a son of Neptune too." Percy turned pale. "Excuse me?
Elections only happen in two ways," Reyna said.
"Either the legion raises someone on a shield after a major success on the battlefield-and we haven't had any major battles-or we hold a ballot on the evening of June 24, at the Feast of Fortuna. That's in five days." Percy frowned. "You have a feast for tuna?
Because I know you, Percy Jackson. In many ways, you are impulsive, but when it comes to your friends, you are as constant as a compass needle. You are unswervingly loyal, and you inspire loyalty. You are the glue that will unite the seven.
Percy frowned "You have a feast for tuna?
Her name badge read: Hello! My name is DIE, DEMIGOD SCUM!
Two hundred Romans, and no one’s got a pen? Never mind!" He slung his M16 onto his back and pulled out a hand grenade. There were many screaming Romans. Then the hand grenade morphed into a ballpoint pen, and Mars began to write. Frank looked at Percy with wide eyes. He mouthed: Can your sword do grenade form? Percy mouthed back, No. Shut up.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tyson pounding the Earthborn into the ground like a game of whack-a-mole. Ella was fluttering above him, dodging missiles and calling out advice: "The groin. The Earthborn's groin is sensitive." SMASH! "Good. Yes. Tyson found its groin.
The thing about plummetting downhill at fifty miles an hour on a snack platter - if you realize it's a bad idea when you're halfway down, it's too late.
Look," Percy continued, "I know I'm new here.
I know you guys don't like to mention the massacre in the nineteen eighties-" "He mentioned it!" one of the ghosts whimpered.
Just his luck he was related to this grubby old dude.
He hoped all sons of Neptune didn't share the same fate. First, you start carrying a man satchel. Next thing you know, you're running around in a bathrobe and pink bunny slippers, chasing chickens with a weed whacker.
They're Lares. House gods." "House gods," Percy said. "Like...smaller than real gods, but larger than apartment gods?
There's another problem," Percy said.
"I'm not good with air travel. It's dangerous for a son of Neptune." "You'll have to risk it...and so will I," Frank said. "By the way, we're related." Percy almost stumbled off the roof. "What?
Frank nodded grimly. “Well…any goddess who throws a Ding Dong at a giant can’t be all bad. Let’s go.