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The Skies have no Limit
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?"
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