Community > The Cantina

The Skies have no Limit

<< < (33/67) > >>

Piemanlives:
--Skies Over Burren--

The Sky Runner was flying home, they had a few things to show for their expedition, namely tools, some paintings, and some scrap they found around. It wasn't what they were expecting but it was something at least, not a lot, but something. Behind them a dull light shone from a distant canyon, a raging inferno engulfing the lone canyon, the facility with its lone air dock in flames. The crew sat at a bubbling stove pot, dirty, battered and tired. Richard had the helm while the others rested, so far everything was going well, they hadn't run into anything since escaping the facility, and hopefully it would stay that way. He looked around the ship, the crew was serving bowls of soup to keep them warm throughout the night, Preston was sleeping by the fire, his upper torso bandaged, he was luck to be alive, for now however he had to focus on getting home. He saw Travis walk up to him with a bowl of soup, steaming hot.

Travis
"You need to eat, can't have the pilot die of hunger."

Richard
"Yeah, can't have that can we?"

He took the bowl from his hands and jammed the helm on its present course, he spooned some soup, it wasn't half bad, considering what they had to work with.

Travis
"You're still worried about him aren't you?"

Richard
"Yeah."

He looked over to Preston's sleeping form by the stove. battered and bloody, but holding on to life.

Richard
"My fault he's this way, it's not like I can do anything about that now, but hope he hangs on long enough to get home."

Travis
"He may not look like it, but he's a tough kid, he'll make it."

Richard
"I can only hope you're right."

Something out in the distance caught his, a vessel, specifically a goldfish was flying way from them, or towards something, who knew other then the crew themselves.

Richard
"Doesn't that ship look familiar?"

Travis
"It does actually, doesn't one of the Inn regulars own it?"

Richard
"Yup, wonder what they're doing out at a time like this, not like we're going to ask, we have to head home, and fast."

Travis
"I can drink to that."

They went back to their posts, Richard unjammed the helm as he took command once more, as they flew back to Cathedral.

TrueQuaggan:
-Back at the Wild Winds Inn, just before dark-

Quaggan tried not to scream as the pain in his leg rushed up, stinging every bit of his flesh. He could spot a door in front of his eyes. Above it, a sign read "The Wild Wi.....""The Wil.." "The....." He was too tired. He could barely see. He couldn't be asked with reading. He limped towards the door, and opened it slowly. He entered what looked like an inn. The innkeeper looked at him for a while, then rushed to help him, as he was about to fall. After that, Quaggan's mind cleared, to make way for the most important memories.

Quaggan's mind cleared, to make way for the most important memories. He lost his ship. He lost the rest of his crew. He was the only one lucky enough to not die in that fight. He knew that Nova was safe and he knew he needed to get her back to Golden Island. Everything else was blurry. He felt Nova's beak gently pushing him and he heard the innkeeper's scream as he looked up to see the 7 feet tall, bright blue bird.. Quaggan gathered all his forces to mutter the words: "Don't hurt her...She's...my friend...Please get me somewhere I can rest.." Then, he fell asleep, under Nova's golden beak, reflecting the light in the inn. There was nobody else there, but Newt. The bird looked at him expectantly. As the innkeeper carried the body to a bed, the bird followed. That night, she sat there and slept near Quaggan, ready to jump up and help her master, like she always did. The cuts still hurt, but it wouldn't be a problem. She never had to use her wings to kill. Nobody ever survives the first blow. 

Gryphos:
--Skies over Middle Plains--

Michael stood steady at stern of the Griffinheart with his spyglass at hand, regularly taking a look behind them at the distant horizon. While Gareth stood at the helm and Zardis sat at the table with Lyre. The rest of the crew was by the front gun playing cards. Zardis had removed the letter and his notes from his pocket and laid them on the table, a little crumpled from the haste that they were shoved into his pocket.

Lyre
"So you have no idea what the letter says, so how did you know in the first place that it was worth stealing?"

Zardis
"I got an anonymous tipoff."

Lyre
"That's no reason to put your life at risk."

Zardis
"I won't lie, it's only now that I realise that. I don't know what I was thinking, but the tipoff turned out to be right, this letter is full of secrets... if only I knew what they were."

Lyre reached over and grabbed a page full of Zardis' notes.

Lyre
"But you must have made some progress at least."

Zardis
"Yes, I've got some of it worked out. But very little, and much of that is not due to deciphering the code."

Lyre nodded at Zardis and urged him to go on.

Zardis
"Well, I stole the letter from the Tiger's office, so it's probably something to do with the military. And, while I have not deciphered most of the words, the signature at the bottom is known to be that of the Deer, so it was sent by the Deer, meaning it also concerns matters of trade. And I have discerned one word, or a name, the name of a city."

Lyre
"What city?"

Zardis
"Vyshtorg."

Lyre
"What does the Empire want with the Guild?"

Zardis
"No idea, and I'd rather wait until the letter is fully discerned before taking action."

Lyre
"Understandable. Well, you should have all the time and resources you need back in Cathedral."

Gareth
"We should be there tomorrow."

Gareth had apparently been listening in all the while. Lyre's thoughts were now taken up with the three pieces of information they now knew: military, trade, Vyshtorg. Those three words started circling around her head even as she lay down on her sleeping bag for the night.

Plasmarobo:
--Birdman Facility--

The group continue to descend through the facility which stretches far underground. Creative use of bullets, explosives, and bladework send many of the mercenaries either running for the exits (for at the end of the day, dead men don't get paid). The few that do remain are expertly cut down, shot, stabbed, kicked, punched, blasted, incinerated and eviscerated.

A few flights of stairs later and the group enter the bottom of a massively tall, but surprisingly narrow room. Plasma stares at the behemoth within. The room is busy with engineers, a large scaffold has been erected around a tall cylindrical device, topped with a gently tapering cone. Much of the device appears to be complete, with the bottom section still under construction. Large tail fins are being fitted to the bottom of the structure along with...

...the experimental rocket engines. The group stands, silently contemplating the towering weapon, at least twice the height of a Galleon. Plasma swallows, and levels his pistol again.

Plasma
"It's...it's a giant rocket. If that was loaded with explosive...it'd be impossible to aim though...I wonder if...if they have more..."

Spike taps him on the shoulder. And points at a glass wall several stories up on the far side of the room, some sort of control room. Plasma nods and the group advances along the edge of the cluttered floor. Plasma slinks across the group, eyes scanning back and forth, gaze sweeping like a lit lighthouse. Suddenly he stops and gesticulates frantically at the others to hide themselves. They dive under tarps or behind barrels of something that smells like rocket fuel. Plasma searches frantically for a hiding place of his own, finding an empty box missing a lid and pulling it over himself. Two of the engineers round the corner.

Engineer 1
"We've got the trajectory down, but I'm worried about the engine prototypes. We've got the schematics copied out, but all of the actual systems are on the test rocket. What if we can't replicate them?"

Engineer 2
"If we can't replicated them, we don't get paid. Dare I say it, we probably won't live long enough to complain about it. The boss is working on it, but that man, the bird guy, he insists that we perform a test launch against Anvala. I dunno about you, but pissing off a city of the best gunners doesn't sound like my cup of tea..."

The two continue on, and Plasma lifts the box off him. The rest of the group forms up, and they sneak across the stacks of box, barrel, and tarp to the opposite stairwell. The alert looking guards lean against the frame of the door, unfortunately placed next to some packing crates. Plasma pops up from behind one of them quickly, arm coiling like a snake then striking the throat of the unfortunate man. Emily slides around the other, briefly running the knife along his neck. They both fall and the pair are left staring at each other.

Plasma breaks the gaze first, and cautiously charges up the stairwell. Emily hot on his heels with the rest of the group ensuring they aren't followed or noticed. They reach the third floor, and Plasma rushes down the long corridor to the control room. Bursting in and is met with an odd scene. The chief engineer staring at blueprints for the experimental engines, and an unfamiliar figure in a bird mask calmly gazing over his shoulder. The Birdman lightly presses a button and a steel portal slams shut in the door frame behind Plasma, cutting off Spike and the rest of the group. He speaks as Plasma whirls back towards the door.

Birdman
"Emily, dear, if you'd be so kind as to restrain our friend."

The knife slides easily between Plasma's ribs. The startling blue eyes bore into his, full of a sort of apologetic regret, but mixed with nearly apathetic determination.

Emily
"I did ask you not to go." 

--End of Day 8--

--Start of Day 9--

--Birdman Facility--

The Starlight comes to rest outside the Facility after sighting the Venucian Might in a clearing. The blasted front door and carnage form a trail of breadcrumbs to the inner facility.

Plasma lies in the control room, breathing heavily and trying not to bleed too much under the vicious, watchful gaze of Emily as the Birdman and chief engineer discuss the launch plans for the Long Range Tactical Rocket. Something they seem to affectionately dub the LoRTaR.

Spike and the rest seem to be trapped outside, with another wave of Mercinaries advancing on their position. Somewhere below the launch room, in a makeshift prison waits an older Yeshan couple, wondering what all the noise of gunfire and explosives mean for them.

--Wild Winds Inn, Cathedral--

The next morning Newt ascends the stairs in the Wild Winds. He carries a tray with coffee, eggs, bacon, and well buttered toast. A bag of birdseed is slung over his shoulder. He turns the handle on the door and slowly opens it up, staring at the gigantic bird.

Newt
"Well aren't you a wonder now. Careful. I'm playing nice, see?"

He slowly places the bird seed on the floor, opening it up and sliding it over to the bird. Nova emits a barklike chirp and begins to ravage the bag. Newt carefully moves to Quaggan, placing the tray on the table and briefly checking his wounds. The bird, which had a moment ago been engrossed in the seed, suddenly squawks and launches itself at Newt, headbutting him away from Quaggan.

Newt recovers from the blow immediately and backs away from the agitated animal, arms held up.

Newt
"Alright, you giant featherball, he's all yours!"

Newt backs out of the room and closes the door, shaking his head as he returns to the common room of the Wild Winds. 

TrueQuaggan:
-At the Wild Winds Inn-
Quaggan was downstairs with Nova. He felt much better, even if he had to be careful with his leg. The bird's gaze met terrified faces, all looking at her. Every man and woman was ready to jump for their lives at any moment. Some tried to drink, while never loosing eye contact. Their attempts were met with failure and wasted drinks.

Quaggan:
"Are you sure you don't want anything for your troubles?"

Newt:
"I am absolutely sure. I did it to help a fellow in need, not to rob you. I would never ask something in return for a helping hand. Are you sure you can go outside like that?"

Quaggan:
"I can manage. It doesn't hurt as much now. Plus, I need to ask around and see if anyone has seen my ship"

Newt:
"Very well then, you can come back here whenever you please. And...uh...I don't recommend going on the streets with your..companion"

Quaggan:
"Who? Nova? Heheh..she wouldn't hurt anyone..not unprovoked at least... But I do understand your concern. Don't worry though, she is very good at hiding."

Newt:
"Hiding? She's huge!"

Nova gave Newt a short, disapproving look.

Newt:
"I...I mean..uh.. I don't see how.."

Quaggan:
"I know it seems strange, but only a trained eye can spot a young Sereni, especially a female one. I've been in this town for two weeks. Ever heard of a giant blue bird? You would think people would talk about it if they saw her."

Newt:
"But..how..I mean...why..uh..."

Quaggan:
"Look, I know it's strange. Don't worry about it. Oh, and thanks for feeding Nova. I have to get going now. I'll see you soon."

Newt:
"Uh..bye.. Come whenever you need to..."

The door closed behind the female Sereni. Newt's eyes hurt, after staring at Nova's golden beak. He wondered if it was actually made out of gold. Everyone shifted in their seats, as they got back to their lives in the inn.

Newt:
"Did that actually happen? Did I just see a bird bigger than me? Did it hit me with it's gigantic head? Am I going crazy? And why is that man acting so weird... How can such a beast hide? This is too much..." He mumbled some more to himself before someone ordered a drink. He came to the conclusion that it's much easier to just accept it. And so he did. But even so..that bird was so...big.


-In the streets of Cathedral-
Quaggan has been asking around for a blue ship with blue bird crests on the sides for a while now. Nobody seems to know anything.

"Well, it seems like I need a new ship" he said to himself. "I wonder if Newt knows somebody that could help me..."

Navigation

[0] Message Index

[#] Next page

[*] Previous page