Entrance post
Jim Hawkins’ world is an explosion of a Technicolor sunset, this is true. But you’d be surprised, really, how dim it can get in the industrial canyons of Montressor on a cloudy day at high speeds. And on a solar-surfer, “high” is the only kind of speed you can get.
This is why it takes Jim a while to notice that the buildings he’s zipping through like a gnat on speed are archaic as well as abandoned, and that the sudden lack of pistons and engines and big spinning wheels isn’t because he’s gotten past the industrial zones. Well, it is - but the point is, he’s gotten a lot farther past them than he thought.
Jim lands his solar-surfer on the roof of the building that looks least likely to fall over, and looks around for any signs of the canyons and giant machines of Montressor. There’s not a breath of wind on the air, and so many clouds that he can’t even see the crescent-shaped spaceport in the sky. Montressor gets cloudy, and it’s an overcast day, but not like this.
The 15 year old boy frowns at the barren buildings and the lack of canyons, his unusual haircut limp in the dead air.
"What the?" he says, leaning back to look at the cloudy sky. Something's wrong, and his power cells are running a bit low. They’re half-full, which will give him at least a day or two of good hard flying, but if he’s somehow gotten himself into more trouble than usual, he wants them full, just in case - no sense in having to settle for a slow burn. He kickstarts the engine on the back of his solar-surfer and heads straight up, into the dense clouds.
Really, Jim’s an incredibly lucky guy. The acid in the atmosphere is so fast-acting and his sail is so thin that it breaks like a balloon before he’s close enough to suffer anything more than minor chemical burns - but this, of course, sends him on a downward slide, literally, as the acid continues to eat away at his sail and Jim’s maneuverability goes to hell. He’s not panicking yet - okay, so his pride and joy’s been broken by - what, really? Clouds? What a lame way to bust your pride and joy - and he crouches and smashes the release tab at the base of the sail with his thumb. The tattered, disintegrating sail goes flying away, and Jim grabs the sides of the solar-surfer to keep from going upside down. This is (only slightly) not fun anymore, but the engine is anti-grav and you CAN steer without the sail. Not that it’s easy, not that he wouldn’t rather have the sail, but that’s out of the question, isn’t it?
And anyway, wishes don’t stop gravity from kicking in, and Jim’s engine isn’t such a great one, not without the sail. An elongated tail of fire streams behind him as he falls (with style) towards the ground, dodging buildings and rubble and - what the hell is this place? It’s not Montressor - until Jim’s solar-surfer crashes into the ground, kicking up sparks as he skids down an alley, and Jim windmills his arms for balance and kicks at his engine to turn it off, yanking his boots out of the footholds and rolling to a scraped, bruised halt in the middle of the alley.
The remains of the solar surfer smoulders against a wall, and Jim groans out loud in dismay.
"Aww - jeeze, no, I paid good money for that!"
{ooc: plotlocked to Magog, but feel free to have your character notice the fall, or the smoke trail left from it.}
This is why it takes Jim a while to notice that the buildings he’s zipping through like a gnat on speed are archaic as well as abandoned, and that the sudden lack of pistons and engines and big spinning wheels isn’t because he’s gotten past the industrial zones. Well, it is - but the point is, he’s gotten a lot farther past them than he thought.
Jim lands his solar-surfer on the roof of the building that looks least likely to fall over, and looks around for any signs of the canyons and giant machines of Montressor. There’s not a breath of wind on the air, and so many clouds that he can’t even see the crescent-shaped spaceport in the sky. Montressor gets cloudy, and it’s an overcast day, but not like this.
The 15 year old boy frowns at the barren buildings and the lack of canyons, his unusual haircut limp in the dead air.
"What the?" he says, leaning back to look at the cloudy sky. Something's wrong, and his power cells are running a bit low. They’re half-full, which will give him at least a day or two of good hard flying, but if he’s somehow gotten himself into more trouble than usual, he wants them full, just in case - no sense in having to settle for a slow burn. He kickstarts the engine on the back of his solar-surfer and heads straight up, into the dense clouds.
Really, Jim’s an incredibly lucky guy. The acid in the atmosphere is so fast-acting and his sail is so thin that it breaks like a balloon before he’s close enough to suffer anything more than minor chemical burns - but this, of course, sends him on a downward slide, literally, as the acid continues to eat away at his sail and Jim’s maneuverability goes to hell. He’s not panicking yet - okay, so his pride and joy’s been broken by - what, really? Clouds? What a lame way to bust your pride and joy - and he crouches and smashes the release tab at the base of the sail with his thumb. The tattered, disintegrating sail goes flying away, and Jim grabs the sides of the solar-surfer to keep from going upside down. This is (only slightly) not fun anymore, but the engine is anti-grav and you CAN steer without the sail. Not that it’s easy, not that he wouldn’t rather have the sail, but that’s out of the question, isn’t it?
And anyway, wishes don’t stop gravity from kicking in, and Jim’s engine isn’t such a great one, not without the sail. An elongated tail of fire streams behind him as he falls (with style) towards the ground, dodging buildings and rubble and - what the hell is this place? It’s not Montressor - until Jim’s solar-surfer crashes into the ground, kicking up sparks as he skids down an alley, and Jim windmills his arms for balance and kicks at his engine to turn it off, yanking his boots out of the footholds and rolling to a scraped, bruised halt in the middle of the alley.
The remains of the solar surfer smoulders against a wall, and Jim groans out loud in dismay.
"Aww - jeeze, no, I paid good money for that!"
{ooc: plotlocked to Magog, but feel free to have your character notice the fall, or the smoke trail left from it.}