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Diryas wasn't necessarily the most sure what they would be getting themselves into. Birds seemed harmless enough, on their face, but they wouldn't all be being sent out armed if it was as simple as that. He trusted that their teachers were not given to gross overreaction, at any rate. So he would have to simply plan as much as he could--and be prepared to change those plans if he had to. He glanced towards Zebulon for a moment then back at Max while he thought it over.

A whip was what he had been using, and he ran his thumb over the coil of it in his hands. It was familiar enough, by this point, that it felt comfortable in his hold. Not familiar enough, honestly, that he felt he'd be any good in a serious fight. He made sure it was secured to the bag containing the supplies they were giving him. Comfortable or no, if he needed it then he'd need it. There were worse things. Being unarmed entirely, for instance.

Shrugging into his jacket and lacing his boots, he glanced over his shoulder for Zebulon, making sure he was also ready before proceeding towards the Hearth. He was certainly surprised to see Hestia, but her appearance was certainly comforting. It reminded him of his aunts. He trusted what she said, at any rate. And so, once he and Zebulon were both ready, he took as confident of a step as could be expected into the fire.

Summer had always been Rory's favorite season. There were so many things she could grow in the warmer weather, and the feeling of sun on her skin always made her feel relaxed and comfortable. Here at the Prytaneum, Rory had been spending her time in the gardens by the Demeter dorms, and in the kitchen cooking and baking for anyone who was around at the time.

So when all the Chosen were herded into the auditorium to a giant pile of fur coats and another pile of weapons, to say Rory was a little confused was an understatement. She knew how to use a couple of the weapons, though she preferred to use defensive equipment, but she had also been curious about how some of the others worked. Bows and arrows, for instance, could be used to hunt as well as to battle so knowing how to use one could be useful in the future.

She took a seat among the other Chosen of her goddess to listen to Max as she explained what was going on. It sounded weird to be going to fight birds, but the prospect of their first adventure as Chosen sent a thrill through her. Rory grinned and was rather glad that today she had chosen to wear jeans instead of her usual billowy skirt. When she made her way to the piles of stuff she grabbed a pair of boots and a thick coat, knowing her sparkly ballet flats were definitely not going to cut it in the snow at the Alps.

The Alps! They were going to Switzerland. The idea made her giggle a little and idly she wondered if they'd have a chance to do a little souvenir shopping once they saved the place from weird birds. Aryssa would probably get a kick out of having something from there, and Rory was sure she'd be able to come up with a reason for having it that made sense and went with the story she'd told her daughter and parents. But even if they didn't get a chance to shop, this was an experience she would never have gotten anywhere else. From the pile of weapons, she debated for a few moments before choosing a shield. She knew how to use a bow and arrows, but she was more comfortable with the shield.

At the Heart, Rory ooh'ed to herself at the pretty colors of the flames, a small part of her mind comparing what Hestia was telling them about hearth travel to the Floo network from the Harry Potter franchise. Granted, these flames were much prettier compared to the acid green used in the movies. She had always wondered what Floo travel would be like and now it seemed she'd have a frame of reference for the next time she and Aryssa watched the movies together. Rory grinned at that, then tuned back into what was going on. When it was her turn, she stepped through the flames with a small laugh.

Vögel? Vögel? Birds? And not only birds, but snow? At least coats were provided. Sighing, Mathilda shook her head.

Mathilda had been busy when she had been gathered into the Assembly Hall. Eyeing the coats, she had been weary, but when birds were mentioned, she knew that this was gonna get weird. However, once the weapons had been displayed, she was on board. Investigating birds was meh, but fighting birds? Gut. Eyeing a dagger, she picked it up and threw it into the air, testing the weight. Nodding in acceptance, she grabbed the dagger and browsed the coats and boots. Picking out very furry and very white boots and coat, she got ready, storing her dagger in her right boot.

-

Now, having been shuffled into the Hearth, dressed in her thick white coats and her styled white fur heels (and sweating), she eyed the woman -Hestia, and wasn't that a shocker- and the Hearth. Well that isn't the normal use for fire, but when in Rome. Checking herself over once more, she assured her braid was tight and her dagger was secure.

Smirking, she entered the flames.

Getting accustomed to the existence of the gods, and to having a real roommate again, was exhausting. Also, well, medieval weaponry. Medieval weaponry. Did he need to repeat it again? Ernst had never been a combative person, but it looked like even the Dionysus recruits here were expected to take up arms. Ernst was never one to let himself look flustered in public, though, and so he'd sauntered into the assembly hall with his usual smirk.

That expression quickly became inappropriate, though. Somehow it was a little strange, to Ernst, that they were having recruits handle something like this (Ernst was a filmmaker, not a zookeeper or - or science illustrator or someone who knew anything about birds, or weaponry) - but apparently it was something simple? But there were civilians involved, which was weird, too. And he'd need arms, and outfi - oh, right, Swiss Alps. Big coats. Why would they need so many people?

They were moving so quickly. There was no time for any of these questions, and anyway - it wasn't like the recruits would be alone, right? He glanced about for the sight of someone familiar, and then shrugged. He'd take a pretty teal-colored coat, then, and - and, sure, boots, too. These weren't very attractive, he noted with dismay, but maybe the aesthetic could be appreciated. Er. Maybe if he'd been wearing something other than his typical florals to accompany them. What else did he need? They were being rushed through, and though he saw a few familiar faces there was no time for him to discuss, or consider. But maybe there wasn't much to discuss: he had liked the heft of tower shields in practice, and he could hold them well enough. He swallowed. He wasn't an expert yet, maybe, but what else could he do? He wasn't really the type to charge in, either. Better to protect himself, and maybe someone else, too, if they could fit behind his shield.

Decision made, he had to stuff himself uncomfortably into his new clothing before picking up the shield. It was too large to comfortably carry anything else, and he slung the backpack of supplies over his shoulders for lack of a better choice.

Then they were on to the fire, which he'd sat near so many times. It was ******** blue, and warm, and - and they were supposed to walk through it?

His eyes snapped to the speaker, who was familiar again, friendly and sweet and - but she was just a kitchen worker, right? No, it was her Hearth. This was Hestia - he'd done the reading after arriving. She was a real god, and she walked among them, and if it wasn't her, then he'd probably die after walking through those flames.

But he was far from first, and he watched the recruits ahead of him pass through and disappear and - it was his turn now, wasn't it? Ernst stepped forward, wincing at the heat of the flames in combination with the heat provided by this infernal coat. It'd be fine, on the other side, he told himself. But he couldn't delay: no one else had. And he knew they'd gone somewhere; there weren't corpses on the ground, after all. Or was it an instant incinerator? There was no time to find out, really.

He walked forward.

Frowning slightly in concentration, Theo listened as Max gave a brief outline of what they would be doing for the next few days and sighed. Snow. She hated snow. It was enough of a pain in the a** just walking through the stuff, much less trying to fight in it. And against birds? She tried to mentally run through all the monster birds she could remember in the old myths and then forced herself to stop, because she didn't need the nightmares.

Instead, she moved forward with the others, grabbing supplies and gear before stopping at the pile of weapons and considering. After a moment, she seized a spear and nodded. It'd do.

Once she was sure that she was as prepared as she could possibly be for the mission, Theo moved to the side and listened carefully as Hestia (holy gods, an actual god was standing right there) explained how they'd be getting to the Alps. Walk through a hearth. Sure, why not? It was probably the least weird thing out of all the weird things that had happened since Poseidon had hijacked the TV at work.

When it came time for her to move, Theo shook herself before straightening to her full height and stalking through the Hearth. Time to see if she deserved Poseidon's attention.

The Swiss Alps. Isaiah was psyched. It was a destination he'd always wanted to visit, and now was his chance- albeit, it was a bit bittersweet considering they were apparently being expected to fight there. He'd much rather grab a board and slice up those glittery, white mountains. The fact that they were going to a resort only sharpened the blow. Maybe they'd be allowed to stay a while, once they'd helped clean the place up?

Isaiah shouldered on one of the thick coats offered and shoved his feet into a pair of boots. All the while, he thought about which weapon was most suited for him. He'd had his chance with most of them during the weeks between their arrival to the camp and now. He knew for a fact he wasn't quick enough to wield anything that required too much close combat. So that meant brass knuckles, daggers, probably even a sword, were all out... and he didn't have the muscle mass to pull off the bigger stuff like anything with great in the title or a warhammer... though, he would admit, he was quite fond of the warhammer...

He gazed at the weapon almost lovingly. Then he scanned the rest of them. His eyes landed heavily on the spear and after a few seconds' contemplation, he took it into his hand. As soon as he had it with him, he knew he'd made the right choice. He walked to the hearth with a smile.

It faltered when Hera introduced herself.

He hadn't even realized she was a goddess, yet now that he really looked at her he could indeed see the power in those eyes. He was so focused on looking at her, that he barely heard her words. Instead, he was stepping forward- guided by her hands and her warm smile into the hearth and suddenly finding himself far, far away.

This was certainty a deviation from what Edward had started to consider normal for around the compound, which, considering his nature, didn't make the former bouncer all that happy, but he fell into line with all the others as they gathered at the assembly hall, arms folding over his chest as we waited to hear what all this was about.

And then letting his arms fall to his sides, mood shifting entirely, as it all became clear to them.

It seemed...sudden. Or perhaps that was simply his opinion on it, though a glance around showed nerves on quite a few faces. How long had they been there now, training? Had it been long enough? The way Max described the disturbance, it didn't sound terribly dangerous, but then she had to toss in things like tossing you into the fray, and that sort of contradicted the otherwise light and limited context they we being given. More info given on the other side, perhaps. After they'd all been armed, supplied, gathered where they needed to gather.

Jaw set, the blonde made his way to the weapon table, eyes flicking quickly over the selection and hovering briefly on the brass knuckles. It would have been familiar, as close to his usual form of fighting as he could get, but not what he'd been training with since his arrival. He reached for a war hammer after a another second of deliberation and the impatient sounds of those standing behind him waiting to pick for themselves. Large and heavy, the big weapon felt oddly comfortable in his hands. He hoped he'd made a good choice.

Supplies were next. The coat was large, fur lined, and dark brown, the boots matched, though he was fairly sure that wasn't on purpose. The bag with all the rest he slung over his left shoulder as he waited with the rest to step through the hearth--and wasn't that just weird in itself. More nervous faces as they edged closer to the fire. Even Ed couldn't help the shift of his feet as he felt the heat of the flames on his face.

Which was a very sharp contrast to the blast of cold wind that smacked into him on the other side.

When not required to attend the various classes, meetings, and so on, Davor had kept to himself. He'd kept to himself on the tour and all that, too, but he especially holed up in the laboratory or got lost in the forest for a while in-between the routine that had become his new life, feeling distinctly out of place among all the younger chosen and not very many fellow Hephaestus ones, at that.

Predictably, he'd been in the middle of a project when the call to arms came. At the moment he'd been working on an arm, something sturdier to fight with, and he hesitated leaving his work. Well, it wasn't as though he had much of a choice. Putting things away as quickly as he could, ever-protective and maybe a little self-conscious of his projects, he set off.

Once in the assembly hall, Davor found he didn't very well need the cold-weather supplies. He'd already dressed in heavy coat and scarf, of course, and when did he ever wear anything aside from boots? It was the weapons laid out to choose from that caught his attention. More than that, it made him a little nervous, seeing the blades. He would steer clear of those once it came to his turn, trying not to dwell too much on those who had chosen swords.

Ultimately, Davor found himself drawn to the heavier weapons. The brass knuckles would have been interesting, actually, his mind already considering the possibilities of combining them with his prostheses, but at the last moment he found himself reaching for the warhammer of all things. He'd liked the heft of it in practice, and if anything, it'd take things out much more quickly. That's all Davor wanted, really, especially once learning they would be fighting, well, birds. Sparrows are what immediately came to mind, those cute, chubby little things skipping like stones over a lake, but something told him they'd be facing off against something much more dangerous. He wouldn't underestimate anything in their first mission, dutifully allowing himself to be shuffled off with the rest to the hearth.

Fire had always been a comfort to Davor, not that he needed very much comforting at the moment thanks to the distant daze he found himself in for much of the time he'd been spending so far at the Prytaneum. He took everything in stride, feeling as though he were still in a dream or perhaps in fact insane, but he'd roll with it. He always did.

Walking into some flames to apparently travel to another part of the world was just another situation he'd have to accept, just as easily as he would acknowledge a goddess being so underwhelmingly human, all things considered. Cute, actually, but that seemed an inappropriate observation to make. Davor strode into the fire before he could make any more.