Athol

Olympus Rising

@Pathei Mathos Just have to mention that black text on this site is almost impossible to read. Had to manually highlight anything Giovanni said so I could see it...that said, good post.

Olympus Rising

Sam

^{@shylarah Location: Chicago, Millennium Park}

---

Falling in alongside her new…companion…yeah, that worked for now, she had to move briskly as he waved in the direction they were going; as she did she took stock. Tall, obviously ran a lot given both his build and by how fast he was walking. God damn it, I’m not built for this… The thought came unbidden to her. Last time I ran… It was amazing what thoughts came to mind when you were stressed.

"My name's Maxwell. I got something like that too -- staff," The runner said. "Did...uh...."

”I have my life all fucked over by a supposed Greek God in my head?” Sam couldn’t help but laugh as the park rapidly dwindled behind them. ”Yeah…sorry, I’m Sam…” The hammer disappeared from her hand. ”Had something similar happen to me a few days ago.” She went on. "Some fuck with a sword dropped a parts shelf on me and tried to stab with a goddamn sword! Said I was ‘In the way’." She could hear the rattling of the trains not too far ahead. "Don’t suppose you have any idea what the fuck is going on?"

Olympus Rising

@shylarah I leave Max's attacker in your hands, and please let me know if you want/need me to edit anything to make your post easier.

Olympus Rising

Sam

_{@shylarah Location: Chicago, Millennium Park}

---

Since the attack, which she told her family was simply a freak accident…there was no way they’d believe a story about her talking to a supposed Greek God, nearly getting stabbed by some asshole with a sword and that she can now apparently both control metal like some comic book character, and manifest a freaking hammer; things had been a bit of a blur. After clearing the mess she’d still finished her sister’s car, but the work had been made harder by this constant nagging sensation to go find others like her.

She wasn’t overly impulsive by nature and if she’d just dropped everything and bailed, her folks would’ve had a missing persons report out by nightfall and been worried sick. Instead she cobbled up a story about some American friends of hers in Wisconsin needing a mechanic suddenly and asking if she could help. She’d said yes and might be gone for a bit as they were in a race series and she might stay until it was done. Feeling terrible about lying, but unable to think of a better way to cover, she set off.

Now she found herself in Chicago, a city she’d only ever seen on TV or in passing, walking towards a place called ‘Millennium Park’, based solely on a feeling…as stupid things to do, this must rate fairly highly. As the feeling got stronger, she picked up her pace; the one big upside to ‘Awakening’ at least was that her prosthetic right leg moved much more like a real one than it had prior, no matter how much she’d gotten used to it.

Reaching the park, a sudden urgency took her and she broke into a run, letting instinct guide her. Rounding a corner she saw a fellow heading towards her. He was dressed for a run and carrying a large stick and was being chased by another man with a goddamned spear. ”Fucking Hell…” She muttered as she found her Hammer suddenly in her hand.

”MOVE!” She yelled at the runner. The upside of an encounter like this in an urban space was that there was metal all around, and by instinct (and a little practice before she’d left home), she knew that with Hammer in hand she could mould it like clay with a thought. A steel bench ripped free of its concrete mounting and hurled towards the spearman, forcing him to dodge; which he did, only to get slammed by a trashcan from behind. He went down, and Sam reached out with her powers once more.

The spear tip gave much the same impression as the sword that asshole that’d tried to murder her hand carried. Instinctively she knew, like the sword, she could crush it…she also knew they were like her Hammer and any damage she did would be temporary, but that’d work for now. In an instant the head of the spear crumpled like tinfoil and the spearman shouted in rage as he staggered to his feet, only to get hit by the bench again, this time she twisted and warped it, driving the ends of it into the concrete to pin the attacker.

Between the running and power usage, Sam felt herself getting a bit winded, but the adrenaline was still high. Looking at the runner, she gasped. ”We…we should go…somewhere...I…I don’t know this city…”

Olympus Rising

Also, @MintRolls, will we be keeping communication strictly to the OOC tab, or are we ever going to have a discord? I don't think it matters either way, I am just curious. :)

@Pathei Mathos

Was thinking much the same; also regardless of whither or not we do a Discord, what time zones are folks in? Just to give a rough outline as to when posts may happen. I'm in the Pacific

Olympus Rising

@shylarah Would Maxwell like a hand, or does he have this fight?

Olympus Rising

Reading the Titan successor list, I guess Sam got jumped by the Hyperion Successor...jackass is still owed a beating.

Olympus Rising

@MintRolls Yeah she was attacked by a Titan Successor, though they were masking their identity.

Olympus Rising

Samantha Ross

Sam

Samantha H. Ross ‘Sam’ | 24 | Female | Hephaestus Successor
Sexuality: (She’s genuinely never given it any thought)
Power: Metal Manipulation
Weapon: Hammer
Appearance:
‘Solid’ would be how most people would describe Sam if asked. Squared shoulders, and well muscled arms and legs, she’s built for power and endurance not a sprint. A practical sort with little interest trying to pretend she’s something she’s not, she generally keeps her hair tied back to keep it out of her eyes and work. Her hands are callused and scarred from years of fighting with stuck fittings and rusted bolts, and her forearms carry a burn scar or two from unpleasant encounters with hot engine parts; most notably she’s also missing her right leg just above the knee, though between her prosthetic and the fact she’s never been seen wearing shorts most people are unaware of that.

Clothing-wise she’s usually in jeans, work boots and a t-shirt, all of which are usually grease stained to some degree. If she figures she’s about to get into a job that might get really messy you may see her in a set of coveralls; the last time anyone who knows her saw her in anything ‘nice’ was the thrifted suit she wore to her high school graduation. (She’d never worn or owned a skirt or dress before that and wasn’t about to start then).

Her hammer in many ways is rather unremarkable. A simple one handed cross pien hammer with a flat face on one side of the head and a tapered one on the other side, it is a simple and reliable tool, and yet it is much more. Sam has yet to find anything that can withstand it for long.

Personality: Calm and methodical, Sam would rather do it right the first time than rush things and have to do it again. She’s slow to anger but can be stubborn at times and has been known to hold grudges for quite a while if she felt she was slighted enough. She has a love for all things mechanical, and despite appearances can have remarkably light and deft touch when she needs to.

Short Bio: That Sam was going to grow up to be a ‘grease monkey’ was pretty much a given. Both her parents raced at the local dirt track, and thus both she and her sister grew up in and around the oily, noisy world of motorsport. While she was certainly taught to drive dirt track cars once she was old enough, she never took to it the way her sister did, instead preferring to spend her time in the pits working on engines, transmissions and such pretty much from the time she could hold a wrench and follow directions.

At nine she built her own go cart and by the time she was old enough to (legally) drive she’d rebuilt and sold a handful of cars and motorbikes, and countless smaller motors. It was just shy of her eighteenth birthday when he lost his leg; out on the backroads she took a corner a bit too fast as the bike hit a gravel patch and lost it. Unlike too many her age would’ve been, she was at least wearing proper gear, but no safety gear was going to help her right knee hitting a rock at 80 kmh. That was the first big change in her life, the second was when she ‘Awakened’. She’d been ‘Burning the midnight oil’ as the saying goes, getting her sister’s car ready for an upcoming set of races, working alone in the old barn that was the shop on the family property. Like usual when she’s been on her feet for too long, her stump was starting to bother her, which was a sure sign to call it quits for the night. A sound behind her made her turn around just in time to see a set of shelves, full of parts fall towards her…and a figure obviously pushing said shelves over. Before that could all register though, it all went black and she could smell burning charcoal and hot metal and a voice calling itself Hephaestus spoke to her. It spoke of Successors and Titans and other mad things, but she knew with the same certainty that she knew water was wet and fire hot, that it was all true.

When the world came back, she was pinned under the debris and an indistinct figure stood over her with a sword. “Nothing personal,” They said, aiming to stab her through the heart. “But you’re in the way.” Her eyes fixed on the blade, a thought came to her and the blade crumpled like tin foil as she lashed out with a free hand, that was now holding a hammer. The impact should have shattered her attacker's knee, but they seemed remarkably durable; any further interactions were interrupted by the sound of her rapidly approaching family, drawn by the colossal crash of the falling shelves. She’d looked away from her attacker for an instant when she heard her father shout and in that time they’d vanished.

Olympus Rising

Samantha Ross

Sam

Samantha H. Ross ‘Sam’ | 24 | Female | Hephaestus Successor
Sexuality: Asexual? (She’s genuinely never given it any thought)
Power: Metal Manipulation
Weapon: Hammer
Appearance:
‘Solid’ would be how most people would describe Sam if asked. Squared shoulders, and well muscled arms and legs, she’s built for power and endurance not a sprint. A practical sort with little interest trying to pretend she’s something she’s not, she generally keeps her hair tied back to keep it out of her eyes and work. Her hands are callused and scarred from years of fighting with stuck fittings and rusted bolts, and her forearms carry a burn scar or two from unpleasant encounters with hot engine parts; most notably she’s also missing her right leg just above the knee, though between her prosthetic and the fact she’s never been seen wearing shorts most people are unaware of that.

Clothing-wise she’s usually in jeans, work boots and a t-shirt, all of which are usually grease stained to some degree. If she figures she’s about to get into a job that might get really messy you may see her in a set of coveralls; the last time anyone who knows her saw her in anything ‘nice’ was the thrifted suit she wore to her high school graduation. (She’d never worn or owned a skirt or dress before that and wasn’t about to start then).

Her hammer in many ways is rather unremarkable. A simple one handed cross pien hammer with a flat face on one side of the head and a tapered one on the other side, it is a simple and reliable tool, and yet it is much more. Sam has yet to find anything that can withstand it for long.

Personality: Calm and methodical, Sam would rather do it right the first time than rush things and have to do it again. She’s slow to anger but can be stubborn at times and has been known to hold grudges for quite a while if she felt she was slighted enough. She has a love for all things mechanical, and despite appearances can have remarkably light and deft touch when she needs to.

Short Bio: That Sam was going to grow up to be a ‘grease monkey’ was pretty much a given. Both her parents raced at the local dirt track, and thus both she and her sister grew up in and around the oily, noisy world of motorsport. While she was certainly taught to drive dirt track cars once she was old enough, she never took to it the way her sister did, instead preferring to spend her time in the pits working on engines, transmissions and such pretty much from the time she could hold a wrench and follow directions.

At nine she built her own go cart and by the time she was old enough to (legally) drive she’d rebuilt and sold a handful of cars and motorbikes, and countless smaller motors. It was just shy of her eighteenth birthday when he lost his leg; out on the backroads she took a corner a bit too fast as the bike hit a gravel patch and lost it. Unlike too many her age would’ve been, she was at least wearing proper gear, but no safety gear was going to help her right knee hitting a rock at 80 kmh. That was the first big change in her life, the second was when she ‘Awakened’. She’d been ‘Burning the midnight oil’ as the saying goes, getting her sister’s car ready for an upcoming set of races, working alone in the old barn that was the shop on the family property. Like usual when she’s been on her feet for too long, her stump was starting to bother her, which was a sure sign to call it quits for the night. A sound behind her made her turn around just in time to see a set of shelves, full of parts fall towards her…and a figure obviously pushing said shelves over. Before that could all register though, it all went black and she could smell burning charcoal and hot metal and a voice calling itself Hephaestus spoke to her. It spoke of Successors and Titans and other mad things, but she knew with the same certainty that she knew water was wet and fire hot, that it was all true.

When the world came back, she was pinned under the debris and an indistinct figure stood over her with a sword. “Nothing personal,” They said, aiming to stab her through the heart. “But you’re in the way.” Her eyes fixed on the blade, a thought came to her and the blade crumpled like tin foil as she lashed out with a free hand, that was now holding a hammer. The impact should have shattered her attacker's knee, but they seemed remarkably durable; any further interactions were interrupted by the sound of her rapidly approaching family, drawn by the colossal crash of the falling shelves. She’d looked away from her attacker for an instant when she heard her father shout and in that time they’d vanished.