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The Skies have no Limit

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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.

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