British Londinium
02-11-2007, 02:45
Dust hung over the city of Chelsea. Even with the River Sakia flowing swiftly through the city, the dust was everywhere. It permeated every square nanometer of the city. The dust got into the food, the water, into homes, into schools, into hospitals, into, in short, everything. Londinians, coming from the cold, snowy realm that was Victoria, were not accustomed to the extreme heat and grime that characterized the town of Chelsea. But, in the four years since the Vivicide that drove them from their homes, the thirteen hundred million who lived here made an uneasy peace with the omnipresent dirt, a tense, strained mutual understanding.
But one man, a certain Xavier Davidson, could never make peace with the dust. Whilst most of the Londinian population sighed mournfully and accepted that the Freeks planned on killing them sooner or later, Xavier felt nothing but scorn and hatred. For the former Londinian Broadcasting Group journalist, rage was element in which he swam. He, son of the illustrious visionary Sir Alistair Davidson, brother to the last consul to preside over the Commonwealth, and an esteemed analyst, was reduced to diving in the river for opal, which for reasons not quite unknown, existed in bulk on the muddy riverbed.
Xavier grudgingly dived in for his final harvest of the day, as the fading sun glimmered on the indigo river. The waters were dark, only thin rays of pink and orange diffusing through the waves. He flicked on the searchlight built into his mask, throwing harsh halogen beams on the riverbed. This part of the river was much farther downstream from Xavier's normal hunting grounds, so the underwater terrain was fairly unfamiliar to the Londinian, but, regardless, he was surprised to see a sort of hatch nestled in a group of rocks. Those sorts of things didn't just naturally appear, and they certainly weren't made with the royal crest proudly emblazoned on it. Sheer curiosity pulled Xavier towards the steel hatch - something worth hiding must have warranted its construction, he reasoned, it would probably be fairly valuable. Xavier's shoes needed repair, after all, and he most likely could trade whatever was in the compartment for a new pair, perhaps even some nice leather ones that they made before the Vivicide.
The hatch door swung open, and a large airlock compartment was revealed, big enough to accommodate at least ten people. Closing the latch behind him, Xavier waded into the airlock. The water swooped out of the room, and another door swung open silently. He cautiously strode into the dark chamber. His movements triggered the light sensors.
The treasure that Xavier expected was not presented, supplanted by an equally, if not more so, valuable resource. Rows of weapons stretched as far as the eye could see. Thousands of assault rifles, even more ammunition crates. Pistols, sniper rifles, shotguns, flamethrowers, rocket launchers, mortars. Even a few hundred biochemical weapons dotted the shelves.
Xavier began to smile gleefully. Perhaps the opal diving would end sooner than he thought.
OOC: I posted this separate from any actual attack or whatever so AMF can respond if he so chooses. I also have a very specific goal for this RP, and would appreciate it if no mass invasions/deployment of military troops was involved.
But one man, a certain Xavier Davidson, could never make peace with the dust. Whilst most of the Londinian population sighed mournfully and accepted that the Freeks planned on killing them sooner or later, Xavier felt nothing but scorn and hatred. For the former Londinian Broadcasting Group journalist, rage was element in which he swam. He, son of the illustrious visionary Sir Alistair Davidson, brother to the last consul to preside over the Commonwealth, and an esteemed analyst, was reduced to diving in the river for opal, which for reasons not quite unknown, existed in bulk on the muddy riverbed.
Xavier grudgingly dived in for his final harvest of the day, as the fading sun glimmered on the indigo river. The waters were dark, only thin rays of pink and orange diffusing through the waves. He flicked on the searchlight built into his mask, throwing harsh halogen beams on the riverbed. This part of the river was much farther downstream from Xavier's normal hunting grounds, so the underwater terrain was fairly unfamiliar to the Londinian, but, regardless, he was surprised to see a sort of hatch nestled in a group of rocks. Those sorts of things didn't just naturally appear, and they certainly weren't made with the royal crest proudly emblazoned on it. Sheer curiosity pulled Xavier towards the steel hatch - something worth hiding must have warranted its construction, he reasoned, it would probably be fairly valuable. Xavier's shoes needed repair, after all, and he most likely could trade whatever was in the compartment for a new pair, perhaps even some nice leather ones that they made before the Vivicide.
The hatch door swung open, and a large airlock compartment was revealed, big enough to accommodate at least ten people. Closing the latch behind him, Xavier waded into the airlock. The water swooped out of the room, and another door swung open silently. He cautiously strode into the dark chamber. His movements triggered the light sensors.
The treasure that Xavier expected was not presented, supplanted by an equally, if not more so, valuable resource. Rows of weapons stretched as far as the eye could see. Thousands of assault rifles, even more ammunition crates. Pistols, sniper rifles, shotguns, flamethrowers, rocket launchers, mortars. Even a few hundred biochemical weapons dotted the shelves.
Xavier began to smile gleefully. Perhaps the opal diving would end sooner than he thought.
OOC: I posted this separate from any actual attack or whatever so AMF can respond if he so chooses. I also have a very specific goal for this RP, and would appreciate it if no mass invasions/deployment of military troops was involved.