The Forgotten Zodiac

((Do you think I should delete the old topics? Won't take more than a second. We start fresh. :3))

Watermill City. What an ironic name. Not only did it not have a watermill, there wasn't a river in sight. The city drew its water from the same place most did; the vast pipes running under the desert, leading from the mountains to the oceans. So no watermills, no rivers, not even a lake. But, this city had been selected for the Archeology Expo. And the city was absolutely bursting with activity. These Expos were the life of pretty much all of Valhalla; the rusty, dusty continent of desert and dirt and ridiculously tall mountains. If one didn't let the empty scenery get them down, it could be quite the life; though not at all the cushy living of the 'Swamptopia' to the east, it certainly wasn't as difficult as living on the oceans. The pirate life was tougher than this, that's for sure.

Valiant Von Flann. He had always thought that was a funny name. Valiant. Pretty cool. Von. Okay, it's got a bit of a ring to it. Flann. Absolutely ridiculous. The veteran archeologist rapped his fingers against his table as he thought. He had hardly anything on display; a rusty metal box with a broken lock, a long-since busted music box, a grimy crystal that had seen much better days. The only thing not rusted or busted was a single shiny silver spoon. And seven people had already asked him if it was for sale.

Val. That was a much nicer name to be called by. Easier to say than Valiant. Less hilarious than 'Von Flann', or even just 'Mr. Flann'. Yes, that was what he preferred to be called.

Although honestly, he thought as he ran his dirty fingers over the stubble on his chin. No one ever calls me at all. Oh well. At least I can be more interesting as a person than mister Birch. All he's got is that one stupid thing and that one stupid story. He glared pointedly at a table nearby, which was literally crowded. The two-time spelunker had brought back something or other that was drawing the crowds to him. I bet if he had died on his last expedition, no one would give two pennies worth of thought. Val chortled to himself, but then had to frown at his own thoughts. The death of a fellow archeologist was always devestating. He shouldn't be amused at the thought of it. Bu-ut...Birch deserved it. Paying the organizer a bribe just to get info on the most interesting caves was a low move for anyone. The organizers were supposed to put the more seasoned spelunkers on the rosters for the more dangerous ones. It only made sense. Greenhorns got the easy stuff, places that had already been explored and weren't dangerous at all.

Perhaps Valiant was just being bitter. It was unfortunate that in order to make room for Birch, he had been dropped to one of the lower ranking rosters. He had been stuck with the greenhorns in Birch's place. He had trudged through a half-flooded, grimy cave with nothing to its name but a shiny silver spoon. Bitter was a word that didn't quite cut it. Val didn't even know the guy's first name or face, and he absolutely despised the wretch. And now the fool had the nerve to show off his ill-gotten findings to attract a crowd. Disgusting. Val couldn't hide the sneer from his face as he watched the people pushing up against each other to get a better look at whatever it was.