URIEL "CLEMENT" PAVLOVENA

Comrades, Friends. It is in my understanding that you all wish to scour the past and know my history. Me? Quite frankly, I do not know whether I should be suspicious, or flattered that I am graced by such a request. As you can see, I am not one to tell my past often, mostly because it's a long, long retelling of how, please excuse my self flattery, I went through hell and forth, rose up from the grave and besieged hell on all sides. But, you truly must be brave to ask me about such, and I am obliged to answer.





I was born on April 16, 1960. In the Cold Fields of Moscow. Unlike some demigods, I was actually born to a functioning family. Though, my step father (Whom I believed was my real father back then.) Was a deserter of the USSR's agendas, and was labeled a traitor. I still had a mother, and my grandfather. My mother was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, her black locks of shining hair, her pointed nose and her pale skin. She was always referred to as "Moscow's Muse." Probably because of her immense beauty, and the graceful gestures she always made. While my grandfather was a powerful man. A high ranking General in the USSR army, full of prestige and honors. He was a respected man among the Motherland, and I always looked up to him. And I always wanted to be like him, a powerful soldier, respected, and at times feared.



My mother however, always feared for my safety. Her "baby boy" Was always getting into trouble. Even at five, I was a troublemaker, I had the hilarious joke of sneaking up on other comely girls my age and snogging them. And oddly, none was truly bothered. Then again, I think I inherited some of my m other's beauty. I had the rich, raven hair. The sharp features, the great physique...but my smile was cold, and I had the look of a bear. A soldier, a warrior.



I had the benefits of having loving figures in my life, even though my mother frequently entertained other men, she never left me to the care of maids. Not that I need to. Actually, now that I think about it, the maids were frightened of me, especially during the time when my Demigod Abilities took form. When I climbed up our staircase in less than a minute when I was barely one, and when they found me giggling while sucking on the tip of my grandfather's pistol. Oddly enough, he always kept it loaded, but the gun never fired on me. A blessing from my bastard-of a godly father, perhaps. These were one of the times when my grandfather argued with my mother, and she always left, crying her eyes out. I kind of feel bad for her, Sofiya. But, such cannot be avoided. As I grew more and more, she kept trying to forbid me to go to the Military School my Grandfather referred me to, telling me that's "What my father would want." And....It is a thought that I only understood, years later. When I turned into a grown man.


Well, if you'd ask. What was my reason for joining the USSR's Prestige Military School, I'd be lying if I told you hat it was because my grandfather pressured me, or because I rebelled. The truth was, I wanted to reclaim the lost honor of my father, perhaps to take what he lost and become twice the man that he was. I wanted to be a great soldier, a rifleman. Back then, I wanted to become an expert sniper-rifleman so I could join the Olympics, so I can FINALLY become the true man that my mother and father wanted me to be, not to be a bloodthirsty soldier. It was just a front to let my grandfather allow me to train myself. And when I entered the Military School....I went through their programs like a god in human form.



I was a masterful soldier in training. I shown exceptional, masterly skill with every weapon I touched, especially the Sniper Rifle. I hit targets from long ranges, I went through courses like they were playgrounds, and I had immense strategics skill, that even my grandfather's colleague was impressed. A blessing from Ares himself, perhaps. And unlike the other men there, I got accelerated to the rank of Captain, due to my extreme skill with warfare, and I achieved all of this at the age of nineteen. I was featured in the Soviet newspaper, calling me a great example to the Red Army. Though I thought I wouldn't be deployed to war any time soon, my prestige was shattered when the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan. And, to flex their muscle, the Soviets sent me, the poster boy for the Red Army to combat, in charge of my own unit. The youngest Captain in the World, and they sent me the elite paratroopers as my company. These Elite Paratrooper Riflemen were the best of the best in the Military School, trained specifically for Reconnaissance, Prolonged Combat, Assassinations, and as the counter offensive to American Elite Forces, should the Soviets and the Capitalist P— Americans come to war. And funny enough, they were not expecting the star student to lead them. But they were accepting of me, and we were named as the 1st Soviet Paratrooper Company, also known as The Red Falcons.



We were one of the first soldiers to land in Afghanistan, we caught the Afghan Rebels tooth to tooth, hand to hand and weapon to weapons. At first, I had the vision that war was beautiful, uplifting, and it wasn't the horrible murders. But that quickly changed as I spent a year of hell in that piece of shit country, shooting rebels with my rifles, seeing the rape, murder, theft, bloodshed, and all the gore flooding the country. The years were hardening me, I started to develop the face of a soldier. And even though I was a good soldier, I still couldn't fathom the deaths, bloodshed, and destruction that war caused. Of how many countless men I killed and shot down, of how many political generals we assassinated, of how many civilians died after I ordered a mortar barrage. And though I kept getting awards and such, I still can't take war.




However, the last straw came when me and my men were caught by rebels. We were swarmed by their sheer numbers, and after I ordered for them to retreat, I actually did that to buy them some time for retreat, while I thought I was going to be gunned down by the rebels. My second command, First Lieutenant Sergei Barishnakov however, helped me hold off the swarm of rebels, until he got gunned down by assault rifle fire. And such, I was immensely angered by the sight. I felt powerful, invincible, and I charged the small army charging at me, firing uncontrollably with my assault rifle, feeling no need to reload. I left the area with no injuries, and five hundred rebels, dead. Three hundred were killed by me and my second command, and two hundred, I killed with the rage that filled me. Because of that, the Soviet Union's Soldiers and Generals bestowed me a special award. The Red Bear award, for a near superhuman display of valor, and I was called "The Russian Tiger." But this time, I was no longer hungry for valor, I could only feel despair and remorse when I look at my broken troops, when we mourned the loss of our second in command,a fearless warrior, and our comrade.




After the Soviets continued to lose the war against the insurgents, they sent me on an illegal mission, along with the paratroopers, to kill an entire refugee camp and blame it on the insurgent's "malicious action" And though It was a dishonorable job, I was a soldier back then. I knew how to follow orders. We paradropped on the edge of the camp, and were about to kill the entire camp...when we saw that it was populated by women, and children alike. Instead of killing them, I ordered my troops to warn them about an incoming Soviet attacks. And knowing that we will get executed and charged for mutiny....we decided to throw down the Red Flag, and come our own way. The Soviets saw it as a huge scandal, and declared us outcasts, rebels, and said that we were dishonorably discharged. We raided a Soviet warship and used it to sail back into the only country that would accept us: The United States.



We were contacted, enroute by the boss of the Russian Mafia, who told us that we could use our expertise in another way. That would make us richer than what we were. Though we were not blinded by riches, we knew that we needed to funds. And so, I accepted and told my men that those who did not wish to partake can easily return to Russia, where they will be granted amnesty should they say that I tricked them....And oddly, none did, and instead, they saluted at me, and told me that I was their Kapitan And they would follow where ever I go. And we did. We used our expertise to fight like an army in the Mafia Wars, and we took down other branches of Mafia, to establish ourselves as the dominant force around the world. And I did this at the age of Twenty.


As celebration, we used our money to go to the New Casino in Los Angeles, Lotus Casino. A beautiful casino, back then even. And though I was still bitter that I did not get to join the Olympics in Los Angeles, I decided to give this Casino a try....only to enjoy it with my company for a long, long time.



I did enjoy myself for more than forty years. I was gambling, earning the money, and gambling again. Up until I was stopped by a man, telling me that he was looking for me for a long time. At first, I threatened him with a knife, but oddly...I felt a connection to him. And that's when I knew who he was. Ares. My true father. He grinned and told me how great of a son I became. A true soldier. But he told me that he was not going to let me be stuck in this place. He told me that my step father beat my mother after she accidentally slept with him when he disguised himself as my step father. And so, I was the fruit of that disgusting action. He told me that he was going to give me another chance at life. He handed me my old Assault Rifle, and told me that my comrades were now safe, and are awaiting my return. But first, I need to make myself known in this...Camp? At first, I thought he meant Auschwitz. And I frighteningly asked him if the Nazi's returned. He simply laughed, pat me on the shoulder, and threw me out of the casino, and I first met my guise of the future when I saw the brilliant lights of Los Angeles, today.



I walked all the way back to another city, and started to learn more about the world today. Though I still need to polish. I still had no idea what he meant by "Camp." Until I reached Long Island, New York. Though I was foreign to the city, I met face to face with the monsters already. Five Arachnids, slithering around the crowd. I wondered why the people couldn't see them, so I followed them into the deep nowhere, till I found myself face to face with a camp. And that's when they saw me. They grinned and hissed at me, and jumped. Only to be met by a barrage of Celestial Bronze Assault-Rifle fire.


I took the rifle that Ares gave me and went face to face with them. The other campers noticed, that while I was yelling a few phrases in Russian, while shooting them with the assault rifle, I was wreathed in a red fire, with swords crossed above my head. I was claimed by Ares while I was destroying my opponents. In the end, I went inside the camp, holding the rifle, and asking them in Broken , or other wise outdated English where their leader was. That's when I met Chiron, who told me that he was "informed" of my coming.



Long story short, I existed in Camp for exactly a year now. Thankfully, they were all accommodating. Then again, so I was.And with the current events, I am sure to make it up and about my time ot manipulate such into my fold. I am always known to be the weaver of plots. Under the smile, I am planning something. That doesn't necessarily mean I am not serious, though. I am nice. Because being nice doesn't mean you can't plot against other people.




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