RP Thread 1

(O.O.C.: I guess I'll start it off, ok?)

Anne was taking a walk through the large wheat field behind her house. Out here, you could walk for miles and go out into the fields so far that you couldn't see which way you came from. In the sea of beige, Anne kicked at stones she found at her feet and occasionally glanced up at the two moons to see what time it is.

"Almost past the line," she said to herself. "The line" was the thin, cloudy band that divided the evening sky. Normally, it wasn't visible until very late in the evening, but the sun was hitting it at just the right angle this time of year. When both moons passed through the line, it meant that it was time to come home for dinner. At least, that's what her mother had always told her.

Anne often wondered to herself what could be up so high in the sky as the line and the moons. The schools had strict rules about asking such questions. She dared not inquire about how high the sky was, for fear of being reprimanded or even punished.

Her father had given her a sense of wonder about the sky by telling her legends about grand cities that floated so high in the sky that they had to bring their own air with them. Stories, just stories, she thought to herself. She didn't want to accidentally slip when in school.

"Could people have ever actually lived up there?" she muttered to herself. The legends her father had shared with her before he disappeared stayed in her mind since she was a little girl. There were stories about the cities, the people, and even ideas that humans came from the sky, but such stories were illegal.

As the shadows grew longer and the moons passed through the line in the sky, Anne turned around and walked home.

(O.O.C.: I'm going to use the same character name, but the character may or may not be the same.)

Atlas had just finished his drink when he noticed the time. "What do I owe ya," he asked the barkeep. Atlas put the money down on the counter and walked outside.

The air smelled cold and sharp, like one could expect on a night like this. He walked down the side of the road with his backpack carried over one shoulder.

After walking abou four miles, he began to wonder if there was any place to stay for the night. Just as the last rays of the setting sun disappeared over the horizon, he spotted a farmhouse about a half a mile down the road. In this area, small bed & breakfasts weren't uncommon and he had a hunch.

The sign by the driveway proved his intuition to be correct and luck on his side.

One night + dinner and breakfast for 240 credits

Atlas gingerly walked down the driveway despite being weary from traveling on foot. He knocked on the door.

A lady stood in the doorway, with the air smelling of fresh bread. "A traveler?"

Atlas reached in his pocket and hander her the 240 credits. She took them and stepped outside.

"Right this way."

She unlocked the door on the guest house and flipped on the light switch. "Here's your room. Dinner will be ready in an hour so just come back up to the house then, okay?"

"Thanks, ma'am", replied Atlas. He set his backpack down and sat on the bed. "Very comfortable."

He started to close his eyes, thinking now would be a good time for a nap before dinner. Just before his eyelids shut, he noticed a map on the far wall of the room. It had a very peculiar look to it.

Walking across the room to take a closer look at the map, Atlas noticed that it was a modified world map.

Graves, Kadmas... Fumacine.... these are where the old territories are. Since when were these ever detailed like this?

From memory, he knew that the larger land masses in the world were left unexplored due to the mysterious disappearances of sea vessels in the area throughout history.

"Who would be able to map them in this much detail...?" he muttered to himself. The dinner bell rang; Atlas turned off the light and walked out the door.

Far away, a 17 year old boy swung a rusty blade around, slicing into the beast and providing food for the family of orphens he helped look after.

He fell prone to the ground and clutched his arm where he'd been bitten.

"You're too slow!" The old man berated him. "If I were ten years younger I'd have shown you a thing or two!"

"yes yes uncle Grady." The boy rolled his eyes. Grady wasn't his real uncle, he was just a moody old man who ran a nearby oat farm. Despite his displacement however, he had a softspot for the orphans and did everything he could to ensure they were looked after, which included training the oldest one to fend for them all.

The youth swung the rusty blade and cleaned the blood off of it.

"Astas, how many times do I have to tell you, if you're on the ground and something jumps at you, swing up!" Grady waved his cane at him. "Cutting it's legs off won't do you any good if you don't survive it's first attack!" Grady turned and left, muttering, "Honestly, I don't know why I even bother with him. He's too impulsive, that's what his problem is."

Astas bit the inside of his cheek as he'd learned to do whenever he wanted to get in the last word.

He sighed and approached the makeshift sled where he'd put his backpack which contained some much needed bandages.

He had been careless, he had to admit as he wrapped the bandages around his arm.

With that done, Astas pulled the sled towards the beast and rolled it onto sled and proceeded to pull it towards the abandoned building that made his home where a dozen children of varying ages came bouncing out of the building.

"Astas is back!"

"Astas!"

Astas grinned and redoubled his efforts to deliver dinner to the youngsters.

(OOC: Something a bit different from my last character )

Festis was fine-tuning his concept "wing-craft" in his workshop. The sun had set a couple of hours ago, and the dinner that his wife had set on the workbench hours ago had become cold and stale.

He continued tightening a bolt on the landing gear, while whistling an old tune he had heard while in the Navy.

"These parts aren't easy to find, so this bolt had better not strip like the last one," he muttered to himself.

The door to the workshop creaked open. Standing there was his wife, now dressed for bed. She was holding a frying pan.

"Festis! How many times do I have to tell you not to stay up all night tinkering with your machines! Now put down that ratchet and come to bed!"

Festis gave a low-toned "okay" and put down the tools. At the door, he turned around before shutting off the lights. He and his wife stared at the contraption.

"I swear it's going to fly some day, Greta. You'll see."

Greta shook her head. "Stop day-dreaming, Festis. You know that heavy thing can't fly."

Festis yawned, now feeling tired. "You'll see. Some day, they'll remember the great Festis Lordy, king of the air!"

He turned off the light and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

While cleaning up and getting ready for bed, Festis remembered the excavation earlier that week. His team mates had discovered several new artifacts in the deepest levels of the local quarry. Several of the objects looked like machine parts of some kind. He was still nervous about taking some of them to try in his experimental machines.

Later that night, Festis went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Through the kitchen window over the sink, he had a clear view of the workshop. He noticed in the light of the seven great stars that he had forgotten to lock the workshop door.

He quietly sneaked outside to lock it. Being careful not to wake his wife, he tip-toed to the workshop door and began to lock the door. Through the crack in the door, he noticed an odd glow coming from inside the shop. He opened the door to see what it was.

A dim red glow emanated from one of the devices he had connected to the battery in the wing-craft. The flat surface on the front of the device he had taken from the excavation was emitting an alien glow with odd symbols.

"What the hell is this?"

The next morning, Anne woke up and went back downstairs. Her mother had fallen asleep on the couch again, exhausted from cleaning up after dinner. Anne had offered to help, but her mother insisted on doing everything herself.

She had wondered about the guest they had rented the guest house to last night. He seemed friendly enough, but he seemed to be a true drifter.

Anne looked at her daily schedule. Time to head over to the university to meet the others for the excavation today.

As she looked around for her bicycle outside, she noticed the man who had rented the guest house for the night leaving. Anne ran over to him.

"Aren't you going to stay for breakfast?" she asked.

Atlas shook his head. "No, I believe I'll just head on out now. I'm headed to the quarry to find some work."

Anne asked, "Which quarry, that local one? We're going there today for an archeological expedition. I can't find my bike anywhere, so I'll just have to catch the next bus when it comes by."

Atlas looked surprised. "Bus? I reckon I'll wait for it too, then. Maybe I'll have that breakfast while waiting."