The Skies have no Limit

[Plasmarobo]

--Welcome to Cathedral!--
Looks like Anvala will take some time getting back on it's feet!
The city had a great run, but the skies are still wide open!
Please join me for the spiritual successor to the Burning Skies RP!

There will be a discussion created in the pit! Information like this will be directed there in future!
Remember, we are open to anyone and everyone!

We are set in Cathedral for now, but the skies have no limit!
For now BdrLine and I will be doing the opening and closing of the RP.

--Day one, Spring, Cathedral--

--Narration, Some time after that nasty business in Anvala--
The city of Cathedral, the neutral hub of the world. Built in the continuously-occupied remains of an old-world city in the Middle Plains, it is a powerful and independent city-state with representatives from each of the six factions. The government seat is in the huge cathedral that dominates the city center and from which the city gets its name.

The city is bustling. People are excited for the spring festival, which pulls in tourists from all nations.
The Guard and Prefects of the city had their hands full with security, but there were few people truly intent on causing trouble.
Trade was booming, and many savvy merchants were making quite the profit.

It was a good time to be in the city.

--End Narration--

--Cathedral, Wild Winds Trading and Acquisitions, Wild Winds Inn. --

Plasma stands by the back wall of the inn. Examining the board of bounties. He's exchanged his Miltary uniform for a long duster, ceremonial belt for dual holster affair. He looks at the bounties available, picking up a name that looks familiar.

He chuckles to himself.
_Plasma
"So the Admiral's got himself a bounty now? Not for all the bullets in Anvala..."

He sighs and looks around the place. Several regulars having drinks, a few travelers on their way through town, several merchants negotiating freight with Lloyd, Plasma's "boss". Several shadier people, looking for nearly the same thing, but with much less legitimacy.
Many of the tables are empty, there are only a few people at the bar. He stands near the back, by the bounty board, stairs to the rooms, and "Wild Winds Trading and Acquisitions" counter. He takes another poster from the board.

_Plasma
"Five thousand mark reward... should be easy enough."
He pockets the poster, and turns to the room, leaning against the wall. His eyes fix on the front door to the inn.

I do wish they would hurry up, going to leave me waiting all day!

[Plasmarobo]

--Narration--
(We are now live)
--End Narration--

[Gryphos]

--Skies over Middle Plains--

"Captain Gareth!"

it was meant to be a regular journey for the crew of the Arashi Junker class ship, Griffinheart, just a run-of-the-mill flight over the Middle Plains to the city of Cathedral. But they did not expect pirates, although they probably should have. At this point Griffinheart was engaged with a single pirate ship, having previously dispatched the second. But this one was proving more difficult.

At the helm of Griffinheart stood a man clad in a white shirt and brown waistcoat, with a brown cloak and hood covering it, currently being blown behind him by the wind. Upon being addressed by his second in command he responded in a rather urgent voice.

Gareth
"Yes, what is it, Michael?"

Michael
"Our broadsides are having little effect. Say what you will, these pirates have some good engineers. And it was hardly sensible to put a harpoon on each side either."

Gareth
"Oh really?"

He slammed the ship to a stop, forcing the pirate ship fly and hover underneath.

"Take the helm."

Michael took place at the helm as Gareth loaded a few pistols and holstered them at his sides, before also grabbing a knife.

Gareth
"Keep firing the harpoon while I'm gone. Where's Roc?"

Michael
"I don't know? He's around here somewhere."

A confused but not surprised expression formed on Michael's face. He was used to this sort of thing by now. Gareth them let out a loud and high-pitched whistle.

Michael
"What are you going to do?"

Gareth walked over to the edge of the ship, clasping the knife in his hand, before turning to face Michael.

Gareth
"Pay them a visit."

Just then He leant backwards and dropped off of the side of the ship. But before Michael could even react, a rather large eagle soared right passed his head and after Gareth.

Gareth latched onto the pirates' balloon with his knife, tearing a large rip as he slid down the side of it. He then took hold of some rigging rope and swung onto the ship. The pirate crew had little time to react before Gareth landed, pulled out a pistol and shot the nearest crew member. He then humorously dodged a charging pirate, who kept charging like a bull off of the side of the ship. Gareth knifed another one in the stomach and shot another in the chest. But he had forgotten about the captain, who now had a pistol pointed directly at Gareth. Gareth dropped his weapons and held his hands behind his head. Just then, before the captain could take the shot, the eagle came soaring in from behind him and started clawing and pecking at his face, leaving him unconscious and with deep wounds.

Gareth
"Good boy."

By this point the pirate ship started sinking from the balloon piercing and general lack of living crew. But then a harpoon from the Griffinheart latched itself to the deck with a rope attached. Gareth quickly picked up the knife again and sprinted over to the harpoon, grabbing the rope. He then cut the rope, leaving the ship to fall and allowing him to swing away, dangling from his ship as the Eagle, Roc, was flying beside him.

Gareth was pulled up by his crew and went back to the helm.

Michael
"Well that was... actually quite awesome."

Gareth
"yeah, but don't expect me to be able to pull that off all the time."

They shared a laugh as Roc landed on the guard rail and squawked loudly. Gareth stroked its head.

Gareth
"Yes you did well too. Anyway, where were we going in the first place?"

Michael
"Cathedral, for contacts."

Gareth
"Ah yes, we should be there soon."

[Mill Wilkinson]

Corporal Mill Wilkinson
The Streets, Cathedral

It was not like he had opted to be in Cathedral, but it was a far preferable option to be in shreds at the ruins of some desolate town. Although, he had to admit, dead people had no money issues. His last crown had been spent in some food to his backpack, but the man knew they wouldn't last long if he couldn't find some employment. Pawning his Ceraenen pistol or other signature tools of his would be out of the question until direst need, and Wilkinson dearly hoped it wouldn't come to that.
He strolled aimlessly through the streets and the people strolling about, certain distance created by his tidy yet worn uniform and vast allotment of tools easily used in melee. But there was nothing suitable in the few job-boards, just some occasional bounty hunting Mill considered being above his skillset.
Perhaps the few coins he still had would help him with a place to sleep in, but hopes were not high. "To horna with all this", Mill cursed and kept trudging forward towards the cheaper region of the city. Oh, did he yearn to brave the skies again!

[Plasmarobo]

--Outside Wild Winds Inn--

Plasma steps out the door of the Wild Winds, talking to a cloaked and hooded figure.
Plasma glances at the clear sky as his companion pulls the cloak tighter against the sun.
They seem to be talking in low voices as they advance down the street.

A few moments of walking later and Mill comes into view, hurrying down the street.
Plasma stops and stares, calling out to Mill. The Cloaked figure pulls back, electing to wait near an alleyway between the tall buildings on either side of the street.

_Plasma
"Hey. You look quite familiar, you wouldn't be from Anvala, would you? Military? I haven't seen anyone from Anvala for a while. Have you been there recently or did you leave after the, ah, invasion?"

He shoots a quick frown over his shoulder, to the cloaked figure.

[Piemanlives]

--Skies Over Anvala--

"What a mess this was." Alexander Henley Was looking over the side of his junker at the scene of brutal carnage. He had heard the baronies had attempted to invade but nothing on this scale. Scale or not however he and his crew had decided they will salvage whatever they could find and haul it back to Cathedral and back again for more spoils. They weren't the only ones either, the baronies had some fairly good equipment which meant pirates would also want a crack at the salvage, good thing their vessel the Skyrunner was one of the most heavily armored vessels which sailed the skies in this part of the world.

"A good thing indeed, pirates have known not mess with us, even in groups that heavily outnumber them." The thought comforted him for a moment, their vessel was landing near a fallen galleon, it was obviously very damaged, the Anvalan Defenses really did a number on her.

For the next few hours they scavenged the much more powerful engines and replaced their own, it was pain stacking work but it would be more then helpful in as he put it "Tactical running away" Along with the engines they managed several more light guns and a hawacha, the hawacha was kind of useless to them however they could sell it for a decent price. The light guns they found would be tested and replace the ones they currently have.

Later that night

The breeze was calm, their cargo secure, Richard Morgan stood at the helm of the Skyrunner, it becoming a quite uneventful flight back to Cathedral, in fact nothing had happened for the past several hours. He jammed the helm in it's current position, a course straight for Cathedral, he walked over to the railing, the night was beautiful and the stars were out in full force. He pulled out his one treasure, an old camera. It amazed him how long the damn thing had been in his family for, it was also surprising how long it had remained functional. He pointed it skyward and snapped a few photos before stashing it back in his duster. He looked to the pile of guns on deck, orderly in some strange fashion, howitzers, mortars, chain guns, even a few medium flaks. It was all in good spirit, they would sell the ones they don't use and replace the ones they do, in the mean time however they had to get back to Cathedral, and that was only a few hours away.

[Imagine]

--The Streets of Cathedral, outside of Fantastic Fabrics--

"I swear the make these things itchy on purpose."

A slightly gaunt man tugged at the short sleeves of his new shirt and jacket, which ended right above his elbows. He looked down at himself.

"And would it kill someone to make some clothing with some color in it, this brown thing is getting old."

He grumbled, mostly to himself, but it mattered not for anyone in this part of the town knew to mind their own business. Looking back into the grimy window of the shop he exited, the man adjust his newspaper boy hat to ever so slightly tilt to one side. He stopped and rubbed the top of his nose for a moment, flicking off pieces of dirt which had been caked there since who knows when, and lastly patted down the toolbelt making sure everything was still in place. Slinging a small bag over his shoulders, the man took a final glance at himself and sighed.

"Well, spending the last of one's coin on wearable clothing is fine too, I guess."

It had been a while since he had new, or at the very least, not a set that has patched patches, one that isn't just a hodgepodge of cloth and leather. This was it though, the last of his saving now gone, piddled away on drink and cards. It had come as some well earned R&R from months on a ship he'd rather forget, on a job no one wanted, a mission no one finished. All there was left was a small scrap of paper with a single name no wanted to speak any more.

For now though, any job that paid would do. With that in mind, he pulled out a fake coin acquired from a downed pirate ship a long time ago, and made his way down the street, flipping it as he strolled along.

[Plasmarobo]

--Narration--

Eventually, the day drew to a close.
The city slumbered under an excited tension, knowing that the Spring Festival was just around the corner! Some early revelers projected their impending joy into the night.

Several weary travelers found their way to an unassuming inn. The rates were cheap, at least, compared to much of the city, and the rooms were pleasant and clean, a feat not all could claim.

--End Narration--

--End of Day 1--

[Plasmarobo]

--Day Two, Spring--

--Narration--
--Cathedral--
It was early, bright morning.

The various travelers had found their stay in the inn to be surprisingly pleasant.
Maybe something in the drinks.
The city shook itself into life early. Traders getting a jump on setting up their booths. City workers were stringing up decorations: brightly colored banners and streamers. Every available surface was experiencing a sudden influx of festival cheer. It was still a few days off yet.

The sweet scents and sounds of the kitchens preparing for breakfast customers winds up the stairs, to the rooms of the inn. The day is a bright one, but clouds seem to flit around the edges of the sky. Those organizing the festival make warding signs and threaten the skies, half in jest, half in serious rebuke.

But they were few, and small, and seemed content to abide by the wishes of the people.

--End Narration--

Plasma gets a head start on the day. He sets himself up behind the trades and bounties counter, sorting papers and posting a few new bounties and merchant requests to the wall. He soon settles in, glancing occasionally at a pretty barmaid and sighing.

There seem to be a large number of shipping jobs... maybe I'll take the Venucian Might on a trade run. Been a while since she's tasted sky. I wonder...

He reaches awkwardly across the desk and pulls a flyer down. Then he hastily scribes one of his own, posting it in place. It reads:

    Competent Crew Wanted

    Merchant Trade Job - Low Risk, High Pay
    100 Crowns to each man - payed upon return to Cathedral

    See Plasma at the Wild Winds Trade and Acquisitions Desk
 


 

[Gryphos]

--Streets of Cathedral--

Gareth and Michael walked down the street while Roc circled overhead, occasionally landing on a rooftop and overlooking the street. Gareth noticed all of the decorations being put up.

Gareth
"What's with all the bunting?"

Michael
"I think the Spring festival's coming up soon."

Gareth
"What makes you think that?"

Michael
"It's Spring."

Gareth
"Of course."

They continued down the bustling street until they arrived outside the Wild Winds Inn.

Gareth
"You go get some supplies for the ship while I go take a look at the contacts."

Michael
"Can I get rid of the harpoons?"

Gareth
"*sigh* Fine, but instead, put a single one on the front."

Michael gave a nod and walked off, while Gareth entered the Wild Winds Inn.

Gareth
"Excuse me. But are animals allowed inside?"

[Plasmarobo]

--Wild Winds Trade and Acquisitions, Wild Winds Inn--

Plasma glances up at Gareth as he swaggers into the Inn.
He blinks at the question, then frowns, leaning heavily on the counter in front of him.

_Plasma
"So long as you're the one that cleans up after it, I've no objection."

He looks at the bird with an appraising eye.

_Plasma
"That one doesn't look like it'll be much trouble. You here for a drink, or a job?"

He shuffles some paper in a bored sort of way.

[Gryphos]

--Wild winds--

Gareth lets Roc fly onto the counter, ruffling its golden brown plumage as it stares around the room while Gareth walks over to the counter too.

Gareth
"A job is what I'm looking for. Nothing too dangerous, just something to keep food on the plate and fuel in the engines."

[Mill Wilkinson]

Yesterday

--Outside Wild Winds Inn--
_Plasma
"Hey. You look quite familiar, you wouldn't be from Anvala, would you? Military? I haven't seen anyone from Anvala for a while. Have you been there recently or did you leave after the, ah, invasion?"

Wilkinson stops and look at the person clearly addressing him, then checks his uniform which was the Anvalan militia one instead of his more worn (better say torn apart) Fjordlander aircrew one. "Yes, I was there, only to find myself fleeing among the last airships and then venturing here and there."
For a second the corporal rubs his eyes together. "Mind telling me where a poor washout like the gentleman in front of you might find himself a dinner and a cheap place to rest?"

Today

After managing an agreement to work for a lodging and a meal (lodging meaning the firewood-stack, which Wilkinson managed to get surprisingly comfortable) the jobless gunner was very optimistic of his future prospects. His mood wasn't spoilt by the cook, who wanted firewood especially from the farther stack, where mill had positioned himself, and it wasn't ruined by the boy who, accidentally, dropped some gravy on his boots. His mood only got better when he noticed the gentleman from yesterday hiring people. Quickly he joined the line and listened to the discussion being had in front of him.

Gareth
"A job is what I'm looking for. Nothing too dangerous, just something to keep food on the plate and fuel in the engines."

[Piemanlives]

The Skyrunner entered port early the morning, the dock was quiet yet the early morning bustle of movement could be seen as they cruised along. They docked without much fanfare however a few of their regular costumers were there waiting.

Alex
"Alright you lot, you know the rules. Come back in a few hours when we set up shop in the market, in the mean time look over some stuff."

He left them to their devices as he made his way to the nearest inn, the Wild Winds was decent place, they had good drinks for a weary captain and his crew, sometimes her but that wasn't very often. He walked in, immediately seeing two men talking about some sort of business, he saw Richard sitting at the table waiting for him.

Richard
"Capn' there you are, I was getting worried."

Alex
"Hah worried? You're too kind, anyway," he took this moment to sit down.

Alex
"So, do we have prices on those guns we brought in?"

Richard
"Most of them, some of them are still awaiting confirmation, We can sell the chainguns for about 130 crowns, the mortars sell for about 214, the howitzers are going to be sold to the defense force for about 175 seeing as we have a lot of them, and the light flak cannons can be sold for 235. It should be a decent profit, allowing us to pay off the last of the warehouse we bought along with some extra fuel. We are however waiting for the Hawacha though, apparently the things are expensive so I'm not going to estimate how much its cost however I'd like to say maybe 500 or so."

Alex
"Sounds good enough, so drinks?"

Richard
"You know me so well, did you get the paper work done?"

Alex
"Ugh, don't get me started on that."

The two of them toasted drinks and began swilling, the bar was more then likely going to make a profit on these two.

[Imagine]

--Outside the Wild Winds Inn--

"Wild Winds, Fantastic Fabrics... this town sure has an appreciation for alliteration."

The man wearing the new threads tilted his hat off his head and ran his hands through his hair. It had taken only the questioning of a few folks to point him towards the best place to find a job for his ilk, generally with a quick jerk of their thumbs and an attitude that stank of get-out-of-my-way-boy. It seemed rather rude, but then again everyone seemed busy with this festival thing so it could be... accepted if not understood.

Having found the Inn soon enough, he pushed his way through the door and inside. There seemed to be a line forming with figures that only take the same types of jobs he was suited for, so his took his place at the rear. It was only then that he spotted some bird on the counter, out of place in a place like this.

"Ooooookaaaaaay...."

He muttered to himself, and waited to see what this was all about.