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The Skies have no Limit

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Imagine:
After Plasma wandered off, Imagine looked at Wilkinson sideways. Noticing the Anvalan militia, he wiped his mouth and rubbed his chin.

"... we've all got our own stories, I suppose."

he muttered under his breath.

Putting his drink down for the moment, Imagine took the coin out of his pocket and rolled it over the top of his fingers with one hand, and turned to face Wilkinson.

"No idea what we're carrying as he himself said. It's a dangerous thing, knowing, these days."

Imagine pointed at Plasma who seemed to have run into some old acquaintances.

"He seems to know that better than any of us. Makes him more competent than half the captains who fly these skies, reason enough to fly under him."

After a moment's pause, he stuck out his hand, while continuing to fiddle with the coin in the other, in almost a hypnotic fashion.

"But where are my manners, we have yet to be properly introduced. Call me Imagine."

BdrLineAzn:
The four follows Plasma to the table and set their bags underneath, as Emily pours the drink. Each of the guys grabs a mug and thanks her. BdrLine tursn to Plasma as he starts to remembers.

BdrLine
"Yeah, theres something to that place that we all keep doesn't it. But it's good to see someone from the city who left. So hoes it going ... Plasma. Well the guys and I are out here to spend some time at this Festival. Enjoy the sights and stuff. We just recently got here and are looking for a place to stay. And by some coincidence we entered this one and saw you."

The other three look at the drinks in front of them and hesitates for a bit. BdrLine sees this and turns to them.

BdrLine
"Come on, you guys are afraid of a little new drink? I mean we did drink things much worse then this."

He lifts up his mug and takes a swig, as he places it down, Bdr just looks at them.

BdrLine
"See nothing, ...ok to put it into perspective, it is way milder than the Hellfire."

With a shrug, the three then proceeds to drink their cups.

Piemanlives:
His drink poured he sat a table over looking the entire scene, the man who he came to know as Plasma was having a reunion it would seem with some old aquantinces, a man in brown clothing was having a conversation with the Anvalan Militia man.

"It's always good to have friends." It was a thought he didn't think but it was his nonetheless, he began to fiddle with an locket around his neck, just holding it for some time before going back to his drink.

Plasmarobo:
--Narration--

Things got a little rowdy. After his dance among/on/with the tables, spurred, no doubt by his reunion and the memories of Anvala, Plasma eventually passes out on the bar. A sighing Emily summons a laughing Newt, who takes the unconscious Plasma upstairs and returns to start cleaning the bar. Many of the patrons make their ways home, breaking the still night with song.

BdrLine and his crewmen find quite comfortable beds waiting for them in their rooms. A good nights sleep is all but guaranteed, though the excitement and promise of the festival (not to mention, the much subtler effects of the drinks of the Wild Wind, verse the Burning Skies) may impede that somewhat!

Alex mulls over the events of the day before retiring, Newt hands him an invoice, and a note as he ajournes:  A draw for a large sum of money on a certain Cathedral bank. There are also delivery instructions.

"For the morning" he says, placing stools on the bar and tables.

Gareth, Imagine, and Mill aren't quite sure what to make of their new "Captains" display. But as long as he had his faculties in the morning... well, they would at least have a warm place to sleep and a great deal more coin soon.

--End Narration--

--End of Day Two--

Plasmarobo:
--Day Three, Spring--

--Narration--

The next morning is bright and cool.
A stout, older gentleman with the look of an old deckhand gone to seed breezes into the Wild Winds before anyone is awake. He tears down a few of the posters on the board, replacing them with fresh ones. The then slips behind the Wild Winds Trading and Acquisitions counter, dons a set of half-specials, and begins to examine various records and transactions, nodding gravely at some, frowning at others, but organizing them all into a neat pile.

The city bustles slowly into life, markets opening and the delicious smells of fresh bread and meat permeate the air.
The festival begins tomorrow, and will run for the week. Everyone is making their last minute preparations.

--End Narration--

Plasma stumbles down from his room upstairs, and leans on the bar, rubbing his temples. The man looks up at him reprovingly.

Lloyd
"Rough night, then?"

Plasma starts, and frowns at him.

Plasma
"Boss! Guh, how do you get in so early? But yes, there were some folks from Anvala. I forgot myself a bit."

He begins to take down the stools from the bar, and chairs from the tables. Setting up for the day to come. He pulls an engraved silver pocket watch out of his breast pocket, examines the face, then replaces it with a sigh.

Plasma
"I'll be off to the docks to prepare the Venucian Might. If anyone asks for me, send them there. We picked up the Illian job. Should be back by nightfall."

Lloyd
"I see. Good luck then."

Plasma shoots him a sharp, questioning look. Lloyd keeps his gaze fixed on the desk, now very engrossed in a new contract. Plasma frowns, grabbing his duster and tricorn hat from the wall hooks and exits the Inn, heading for the Western docks.

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