|
|
Post by Basch Zwingli on Jan 21, 2011 8:53:28 GMT -8
The ship had manifested itself out of nowhere.
One moment there had been nothing; just a cover of cumulus clouds and few birds making their way back down to Earth, when Vash Zwingli spotted something. He had been counting the birds for days now as they flew past him, unaware of his presence. Mentally keeping track of their different colors and flight patterns in his head, he had begun organizing them and giving them classifications in German. It was the only thing he could find to occupy himself with, when tossing rocks off of his open-celled prison had become dull. Exile Island. That had been the name the pirates had tossed around when they marooned him on this worthless piece of rock, right?
Rubbing his eyes warily, Vash tried to focus his attention back on the gulls that were passing him by. “Schwarz-bestückte Möwe und …” he strained his neck to get a better look. “Lachmöwe, definitely.” Briefly glancing down, he quickly added three rocks to a pile on his left, before his eyes latched onto something peculiar. It was spiraled tower, out just beyond where the gulls had been. The blonde blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. Surely this had to be an apparition, or a mirage of some sort …
As the tower rose up higher and higher through the haze, Vash could make out several different buildings, bridges and a numerous amount of ports attached to a giant piece of landmass. Despite its huge size (and rising), the only sounds that Vash could hear from it was the faint roar of a distant cascade, (its free-flowing water falling to the Earth below), as well as some muffled hums reverberating off of many large propellers. The floating world was a marriage of two very different extremes: rock, earth and foliage, combined side-by-side with iron and steel … Vash had never seen anything like it before.
Watching as it unhurriedly made it’s way by, the blonde began shouting and waving about, desperately trying to get himself noticed. He couldn’t know if he would be any safer aboard the floating city, but decided instinctually, that it was better than staying where he was.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Translations:
Black-tipped gull and … black-headed gull, definitely.
|
|
|
|
Post by tinker on Jan 24, 2011 16:33:39 GMT -8
Things were going relatively as planned. The lord and master of Sky City, the man known only as Tinker to most of the residents of the flying city, was overseeing the progress from the sky. Their cloud generators were off, a whirling mess of thunderheads soaring low enough to the surface of the earth to shield them from view from those below had provoked enough confidence from him to let the city float uncovered. He had, however, out of paranoia settled on lapping the city in his Dragonfly, deciding that it could use a good fly just to keep the gears all working properly. The flight had picked up nothing of interest, though Tinker took interest in so few things.
That is, nothing of interest until over the buzzing hum of the wings at work, and the whirring of the clockwork and gears he caught the sound of shouting. He quickly piloted the flying machine towards the sound, and upon spotting the source was considerably shocked. There was a person, on a floating island. Which struck him as pretty much impossible. People could not fly on their own, so some airship must have dropped him there, and he didn't know why anyone would. Quietly he reached for the radio, and called in to Chloe.
"Belle, we got somethin' kind of odd out here, get to the island our South Side was comin' up on ASAP Lass."
With that he was off, guiding the Dragonfly down to the island. It landed gracefully, rare for the machine to do so, at the edge away from the man. Slowly Tinker climbed out of the cockpit, but stayed close to the machine. "What in the seven hells got you stuck on such a god fersaken island boy?" His tone lightly accented with the typical speech of pirates, though his time around people who did not speak like pirates was slowly making him sound more normal. An' don' try tah be funny wit me lad, Ah know that ye didn't fly yer way up here, tha's nigh impossible, yeh?" He sounded deathly serious about things, almost threatening.
He did, afterall, have a flying machine with a fully functioning Lightning Cannon equipped to it, he had no reason to fear a man who was probably relatively unarmed. He had nothing to fear from this marooned skyfarer.
|
|
|
|
Post by Gov. Chloe Boone on Jan 24, 2011 18:20:03 GMT -8
Within the depths and comforts of her cozy little office, Chloe was busily tallying up and recording the allotment of City resources when she got the call. She glanced at the radio, lifting her cheek from her propped hand, and quirked an eyebrow at the phrasing. Kind of odd? For the Tinker?
Sighing lightly, the Governor marked one last figure before she reached over, turning the response knob. "Roger that, Puck. Be there in a tick." Releasing the knob, Ms. Boone set down her pen and took a much needed stretch back, elongating her spine and extending her arms as far as she could. For a moment, she was suspended in balance, fingers locked and bent and body taut like a spring. After a beat, she was rolling up and into motion.
Without looking she slipped her guns into her holsters and her jacket about her shoulders, adjusting the collar with a quick tug. The radio she clipped to her belt, keeping the signal on as always, ignoring the crackle it gave against her slacks. She smoothed her hair with one hand back against the bun, using the other to twirl the official Key to the City in lazy loops about her fingertips, and with rolling gait Governor Boone made her way towards the control room.
She entered with little preamble, feeling little need to give much to the Tinker's many automatons, and strode toward the main console. As she walked, an errant copper-colored hummingbird breezed by her ear. Standing before the terminal, she used the key to open it to operation, setting her hands on the board-globes and watching the grainy windows of light open before her.
Her eyes darted over the picture of the floating island, trying to spot what Tinker was seeing. Failing that, she began to move the ship forward, following the instinctive tremor of the sky beneath her fingertips.
The City approached from the South.
|
|
|
|
Post by Basch Zwingli on Jan 25, 2011 0:42:34 GMT -8
Vash watched as the older man rocketed down to him, the wings of his flying machine catching in the sunlight. The blonde had heard about such machines and the kind of men who were said to ride them, but save for all his picture books as a child, he had never actually seen one before.
Giving his slacks a brief wipe with his hand, Vash straightened his stance, watching as the man sauntered toward him. Like the city floating above him, this person looked to be held together with an assortment of odd contraptions. Vash’s green eyes immediately darted to the stranger’s mechanical leg, before mentally reminding himself that it was rude to stare, lifting his eyes to look at the man’s face instead. However, that only proved worse, as a single, frost-blue eye stared back at him. A small gulp slid down his throat, as the pilot began verbally berating him, barking questions. His accent was a little thick and rather hard for Vash to understand, causing him to blink rapidly as he listened to the broken English.
“Please, Sir,” he interjected, putting his hands up, signaling him to slow down a bit. “I was marooned here four days ago, after being kidnapped. They -- they took everything! My pack, my money, even the rifle that my father had made …” He trailed off, looking remorsefully down at his shoes; his stomach in knots. Vash hadn’t allowed himself to think about the gift his father had given him when he was just a boy. It was too upsetting, and without his rifle, he felt as though one of his limbs were missing.
Sighing, he glanced back up at the man, brushing a hand over his wind-chapped lips. “I don’t have anything of value to offer you, but …” he locked his green eyes with the one vivid blue of his visitor. “I humbly request that you take me with you to your, er ..." (what would one call the floating piece of landmass?) "... ship.”
|
|
|
|
Post by tinker on Jan 26, 2011 13:22:01 GMT -8
Tinker wsn't exactly known for his compassion. He was an oprhan raised by pirates, and hell he knew how rough the world was. He held no sympathy for people, or at the very least, a very small ammount of sympathy. Still the boy's guilt made him feel something akin to pity, and he couldn't help but feel a little bad for him. Then of course the boy went and got all his facts mixed up, it was a little funny.
"Yeh ain't blind lad, that there ain't no ship, an' it never will be ya' hear? That there is a flyin' city, the only flyin' city to e'r exist yeh?" He grinned stepping away from the Dragonfly and crossing over to the boy. He moved with a faint limp in his step, though it was obvious both legs were sound enough. He looked down at the boy with a judgmental sort of stare. "So lad, ye got any talents at all that would give me a good reason ta be savin' ye from this god fersaken island?"
It was a serious question, he wasn't going to let someone with no use into Sky City, even if it was just to keep them from starving to death. If the boy had been dumped here, it had been by pirates. Being close to him gave the pirate a strange feeling though, and Tinker wanted to shrink back from it, though he held his ground. What was it that was so strange about this boy? He felt...a familiar sense in a way, kinship, the urge to protect. Still, he would do nothing without reason to see use in the boy, and also perhaps a word from the lady governor, as much of a figure-head as she really was. He trusted here none the less.
|
|
|
|
Post by Basch Zwingli on Jan 26, 2011 15:48:01 GMT -8
Vash blinked. “I --I’m sorry.” He said shrugging, before glancing at the floating island once more. “I just assumed that because it had propellers, it was a shi--” he shut himself up. He had enough troubles at the moment, (enough to last him a lifetime, really), and he needn’t add to his list by getting on this man’s bad side. Now was not the time to point out stupid facts.
Going with a different tactic, and remaining completely silent until spoken to, Vash listened as the man asked what skills he possessed. The question threw him, and the blonde froze as he struggled for an answer. What could he say to prove himself useful? Back home he had always just helped his parents around the house. He could farm, and raise livestock; cooking had always been something he was good at, and playing the accordion had been a favorite hobby of his.
Vash bit down on some of the skin on the inside of his cheek, as he rapidly went through all his strengths and weaknesses. Suddenly, it dawned on him. This whole mess was brought on by the fact that he was supposed to be (down below) studying foreign firearms. The pirates who had marooned him took his rifle because of its outstanding craftsmanship, smooth carbine barrel and light weight. Figuring he had nothing else to offer, Vash cleared his throat.
“I can make weapons, er … firearms, specifically.” He raised his eyebrows hopefully, his breath halting in his chest.
|
|
|
|
Post by tinker on Jan 27, 2011 8:38:07 GMT -8
Tinker raised an eyebrow at the boy, his expression seeming to jump to that of delight. "Do ye' now?" He cracked an uneven smile at the boy laughing "Well then lad we might have some use fer ya' after all. No sense in savin' someone who's just gonna be deadweight ye' know?" He paused a moment wondering where the hell Chloe was? Had she understood a word he'd said, or was she just taking her sweet time to annoy him? Either way there was no real sign she had actually set to doing what he'd told her to do, not that it mattered.
His paranoia said that a weapons expert would be handy. He needed someone else who was able to make weapons around, even if that person was, for now, a relative stranger. He extended his hand and though not without an air of mistrust and unease to it, the gesture was still clear. A sign that for now he trusted the boy well enough. "Name's Tinker, an' that city righ' there is none other than Sky City. Fer now, it's ta' be yer home, yeh'll stay there under my grace, see I got a lotta power in that city lad, after all she is my city. Yeh'll help me out when I need it, and yeh'd best learn yer place quick boy. So long as yer in this city, ye' follow my rules, and you take yer orders from mehself and the lady governor. Understand all that lad?" He hardly waited for an answer before he had added "Now what shall I be callin' ye?"
He figured that the boy had two options now. Come with him into Sky City, help him build weapons to use against the Navy, or reject his hospitality and rot on the floating land mass. The choice seemed pretty obvious to him.
|
|
|
|
Post by Gov. Chloe Boone on Jan 27, 2011 13:56:29 GMT -8
Chloe deliberately took her time bringing the City to bear, never letting her eyes waver too far off from the gauges and console for fear of damaging the great construction.
Once she thought that the island was within gliding distance (and range of the remote weaponry--Tinker's stringent protective measures were contagious), the Governor set the engines to hover in place, removing the Key and replacing it in a concealed jacket pocket. Chloe lingered a moment more to send a signal to the sentry towers, trusting both Tinker's creations and the grizzled citizens she had hired to know if and when to strike should the need arise. Confirmation was sufficiently speedy in delivery.
In swift order, the lithe figure was out of the control room and en route to Tinker's private docking bay. Once there, Miss Boone quickly strapped herself in the appropriate gear--flight jacket, helmet, goggles and gloves--and boarded the sturdy (though still primarily experimental) craft the eccentric inventor had created for her use--a shimmering insect with more function than flash.
Allowing herself a rather unladylike smile, Chloe pulled open the bay hatch, rolled out of the dock, and took to the air.
Within moments, strafing downwind, she was able to make out two standing figures on the isle. One she recognized as Tinker, the other... Chloe's eyebrow rose, and her lips quirked.
By the looks of things, Tinker was recruiting yet another exile.
The Governor moved in, making herself visible while still keeping an aerial advantage. Until Puck gave her the sign to descend, she wasn't taking chances without her guns. Keeping one hand on the craft's controls, Miss Boone raised a metal whistle from a chain around her neck to her lips, blowing hard.
|
|
|
|
Post by Basch Zwingli on Jan 27, 2011 18:12:46 GMT -8
Vash tried to hold back a smile as Tinker introduced himself, finding the name subtly entertaining. Extending his own hand forward, the blonde placed it within Tink’s larger, rougher one, giving it a firm shake. “My name’s Basch Zwingli, but everyone just calls me Vash.” His eyebrows furrowed at this, wondering why he had decided that information was worth stating. He had never introduced himself like that before.
Shrugging off the strange desire to divulge more information about himself, Vash looked over to see another small flying craft, hovering about. This one, however, had a woman aboard and the gun that was attached looked fast-loading and lethal. Staring with a mild curiosity, he watched as she placed a small, tin whistle to her lips, before having it emit a piercing screech.
Gods, he hoped she wasn’t calling out reinforcements.
"Friend of yours?" He asked Tinker, a mild uneasiness settling over him.
|
|
|
|
Post by tinker on Feb 10, 2011 17:41:36 GMT -8
Well he was certainly strong for his apparant youth. "Very well then Vash, call me Tinker." He turned to look up at Chloe and frowned a little. She didn't need to look so goddamned menacing all the time. He smirked a little at her whistle. Just to get his attention probably, to alert them that she was there, and armed. He sighed, walking back over to his Dragonfly, saying to Vash "That's Gov'ner Boone herself lad, she won't shoot ye' unless ye' try ta attack me." He gestured for the boy to join him by the mechanical monster.
He grabbed the Radio and sent up to Chloe. "Heya Belle, I hope ye weren't worried about me, yeh? Found another stray, I think I'm gonna keep him." He smirked as he added teasingly "Permission to bring him aboard Gov'ner?" He chuckled at it all. She could say no and he would still bring Vash with him, he owned the city, he had built it from the ground up, and he alone had kept it safe so long. He was the only reason the damned place still floated.
He smirked at Vash, wondering what his reaction to being closer to the 'fly, though he admitted the craftsmanship on his 'steed' was not as fancy as Chloe's. He had spent more time on hers, and he had learned from the mistakes on his, the first of the mechanical beings.
[Blah this reply sucks >:]
|
|
|
|
Post by Gov. Chloe Boone on Feb 14, 2011 16:47:41 GMT -8
Content to see that the Tinker got her signal, Chloe shifted her hand on the craft's handle, opening up the radio transmit and reciever to Mason's mechanic.
Upon hearing his casual introduction, Chloe scoffed slightly, shifting the microphone piece in her helmet and replying with clear and crisp words faintly accented with Queen's English. "Worried about you? Tish-tosh, Tinker. If I put any energy toward being anxious on your behalf, I'd never have enough for sleep."
Keeping an eye on the two figures standing on the isle, the Governor tried to make an accurate distance assessment on Tinker's stray. He was a youth, judging by his stature and carriage, with fair hair and a rather confused look about him. Granted, he was in the Tinker's presence--confusion was a common initial response.
Boone chuckled at Mason's firm declaration of ownership of the individual. "Ah, is that so?" In response to the formality, she nodded from instinct, adjusting her grip on the controls as she strafed slightly to the right. "If you believe he can prove his worth to the City, Tinker, than he is welcome to try."
So saying, she directed her craft about the isle, coordinating the Dragonfly in such a fashion that when the men ascended, she would be able to tail from behind.
|
|
|
|
Post by Basch Zwingli on Mar 6, 2011 18:36:51 GMT -8
The young boy blinked, curious as to what Tinker and The Governor had said to one another through their radios. However, Vash wasn’t one to pry; strictly speaking their business was … well, their business, and he wasn’t about to stick his nose somewhere it wasn’t wanted.
Scratching at his arm apprehensively, Vash couldn’t help but feel a little on edge. How long would it be until he could return home to Switzerland? He missed his goats, and the smell of his mother’s cooking. He missed Lily’s laugh, as she twirled happily around him, while singing her favorite songs. It had only been a few months away from home, but it already felt like an eternity. The blonde sighed unhappily. His family wouldn’t even start worrying about him until Christmas time, when he was scheduled to arrive back. As far as they knew, he was perfectly safe and on the continent below.
Determined not to feel sorry for himself, (or let his liberators notice his distress), Vash straightened and tugged at the bottom hem of his military jacket, instantly fixing the rumpled fabric. Breathing in confidently, and arching a perfectly trimmed eyebrow, he marched forward and joined Tinker at his side, looking down at the mechanical Dragonfly with interest. Now that he was closer, he could see the all the gadgetry and small motorized parts, as they hummed and clicked together and he bent over to get a better look. “This is incredible,” he said impressed, leaning his head closer to the front of the machine. “Did you make this?”
|
|
|
|
Post by tinker on Jun 13, 2011 6:48:14 GMT -8
Tinker grinned, responding cheerfully to Chloe. "I've never been wrong about one before have I?" He hadn't been wrong about her either. She had made a worthy addition to the menagerie of people that lived aboard Sky City. Naturally she had spent most of that time living up to the position he'd given her, while he had feigned a lesser role in the running of the city than he really had. No one needed to know he was the one pulling Chloe's pretty little strings.
Of course his attention moved back to the man, Vash. The youth seemed absolutely enthralled by the appearance of the dragonfly, and the sky pirate lord could only smirk in delight. Every man needed his pride, and Tinker's always seemed to come at it's greatest when someone admired his creations. He nodded to the question "Of course, built hers too." He gestured to Chloe's dragonfly. Of course he didn't mention that hers was better and safer than his. Better to not terrify the newbie.
"How do you feel about taking a little fly in this beauty."
Cheshire grin spread across his face. "It's the only way up into the city afterall." A low chuckle, his look seeming to dare the man to take flight with him.
|
|
|
|
Post by Gov. Chloe Boone on Jun 14, 2011 14:30:03 GMT -8
Chloe snorted lightly, head shaking as her mouth quirked in spite itself. “Not for very long, no,” she conceded, allowing just enough ambiguity in the statement to intimidate the newcomer, should Tinker decide that route appropriate.
That was the understanding that Chloe had managed to work out over the past few years regarding her place in Puck’s “employ”—she was there to give him tools to work with, and to ease that work by handling the mundane trivialities that managed to escape Mason’s eccentric notice. Miss Boone was part executive-assistant and part glorified secretary, but she was one with broadly understood gubernatorial authority in Sky Island. Authority that she lived up to, no less. Overall, a most agreeable arrangement.
The brunette strafed to her right, slowing without quite stopping as she waited for the men to ascend in front of her, the wings of her Dragonfly steadily thrumming along her sides. Chloe’s guns were still at the ready, should they prove necessary, but the Governor was largely content to trust Tinker’s ability to handle the situation on his own. The lad, after all, had most likely been marooned for days, and could hardly be able to put up much of a fight if he asked for one.
‘If nothing else,’ she thought with amusement, ‘Puck can shove the skinny boy off this little spit of land within moments.’
|
|
|
|
Post by Basch Zwingli on Aug 10, 2011 21:32:17 GMT -8
Vash’s face brightened at the mention of being able to ride the motorized machine, his legs straightening from their bent position. He was anxious to experience the feeling of flight, not to mention, to get as far away from his floating prison, as he could.
Cautiously, he clambered onto the dragonfly, looking back at Tinker for his approval. Vash could feel the mechanics humming beneath him, the vibrations running up his legs and hands, as he grabbed onto the handles for safety. His heart leaping a little.
Trying not to sound like an overly impatient child, Vash cleared his throat before speaking. “Shall we go, now?” He asked.
|
|
