Greek style

Frank, Percy, and Hazel waded through the enemy, plowing down anyone who stood in their way. The First and Second Cohorts — pride of Camp Jupiter, a well-oiled, highly disciplined war machine — fell apart under the assault and the sheer novelty of being on the losing side.
Part of their problem was Percy He fought like a demon, whirling through the defenders’ 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. Octavian screamed in a shrill voice — maybe ordering the First Cohort to stand their ground, maybe trying to sing soprano — but Percy put a stop to it. He somer saulted over a line of shields and slammed the butt of his sword into Octavian’s helmet. The centurion collapsed like a sock puppet.

SoN ch.11