13,500 feet above Allevent, the cloud systems that leave the Streċċan Seas in nigh-perpetual storm coverage finally break and reveal the clear sunny skies of a balmy summer afternoon. Below this layer, known as the inferieur line but referred to by many simply as 'the chop,' heavy rainstorms and high winds buffet the waters and islands of Oceanica, forever making crossing by sea a dangerous undertaking. For centuries ships have made that journey from one continent to another, stopping in the island archipelago system of Oceanica for repairs and resupplies as needed, and for centuries the pirates of Oceanica have preyed on these shipping lines. With the advent of airships merchants and passengers can journey in relative safety above the inferieur line, increasing the profitability of both trade, and of plunder.

The Aleph Null, a Brigantine-class airship, cut a trim line through the chop as it sailed west across Oceanica, its distinctive narrow hull a quarter submerged in the gray swirling masses of the thunderclouds below. Although the sky engines that power airships' flight run on the wind caith stannum, they also require significant cooling in the form of vivum, the water caith. Whereas the stannum must be of the utmost stability and quality and necessitates the use of large, refined crystals housed in the sky engine, the vivum coolant need be little purer than the free caith abundant in the atmosphere, which is why airships skim along the chop, like sailing vessels across the waves. Intake vents along the ribbed wooden hull run vivum and water particles through to the engine room before releasing the heated exhaust from the aft in a plume of white steam. The higher the sky engine's output the more coolant needed, the lower in the chop the airship therefore flies, and the greater the turbulence it experiences. With its sleek profile the Aleph Null required less coolant even at its higher speeds, and sitting high in the chop it encountered little more buffeting than a steady roll back-and-forth, with an occasional thump as it broke through rough patches.

Its sails shimmered white in the afternoon sun - not the canvas of old but an expensive cloth called ventus, made to capture not wind but free stannum, piping the caith down the ship's twin masts to help charge the sky engine's pure crystals. Although not only too expensive but also too inefficient to provide all of the energy required to change altitudes, unfurled ventus sails allowed airships to coast at a given height with little depletion of their stannum crystals, and are therefore most often seen at the cruising height of the inferieur line.

Unlike the open waters of sea travel, airship navigation is rarely a direct matter of A-to-B. With cumulus clouds dotting the skies like small island coves, and large plumes of cumulonimbus clouds towering tens of thousands of feet higher than the inferieur line, ships generally choose to navigate around such structures. Not only are changes in altitude costly, but even cutting through these structures is quite rare, as ventus sails risk being torn unless drawn in, and the risk of the Caithness encountered in the skies drastically increases in these hidden pools and eddies.



A cutting southerly wind raced over the portside railing and swept right through Grady like his trenchers coat was a bullfighter's red cape. Despite his wide frame he staggered a step or two before reaching the small alcove around one of the main deck's ladder, this leading to the middle deck, recessed within the hull of the ship and protected from the elements. He moved through the hallway toward the back of the ship, shoulders nearly brushing either side, ducking slightly beneath each evenly-spaced bulkhead. The infirmary was the aftmost room on this deck, one deck below the Great Cabin, itself just beneath the navigation room. Grady entered without knocking, merely thrusting the door open as though testing the hinges' damage threshold. He ducked his head in to look around and find the ship's doctor, Vylmor Octavius. "Your man had better know what the fuck he's talking about, Doctor," he growled, referring to the informant that had them trawling in this part of the sky for the last two days. Despite being the ship's doctor there was more to Vee than gauze and gangrene - the man seemingly and inexplicably had connections throughout Allevent, none with reputations befitting a doctor's sterling image.

Despite his grumbling Grady knew the doctor's information was usually good, but for whatever reason he liked to poke his head in and badger the man regardless, with this being the fourth or fifth such instance since they began cruising this patch of clouds yesterday morning. That was generally how it seemed to be - if the captain sought you out to curse or threaten then you were probably in his good favor. Those he either didn't seek out, or those he maintained perfect civility with, were likely the ones currently operating under his displeasure.

"Find that d'Arrowen girl too, and keep her with you during the battle. If you need help treating anyone, need supplies, whatever, have her take care of it. Just keep her underfoot, yah?"

After hearing the doctor's reply, and maybe throwing another threat the man's way, Grady would close the door behind him and turn for the nearest ladder. As he made to climb down, a runner peered around the corner and spotted him. "Message for you from Ms. Rennway, Captain," the lad said as he approached. "Yah?" Grady asked, still halfway down the ladder. "Report to the navigation room, sir." Grady sighed as he went to climb upward again, when a sudden jerk in the ship's hull nearly made him lose his footing. The runner stumbled too, as the ship lurched and dropped before rising again, like a bronco bucking its rider. "Fucking Kisaki!" he shouted before leveling his glower back at the runner. "Find First Mate Williams, tell him to meet me in the navigation room in..." he contemplated how long it would take to throttle Shinrei Kisaki, his Master Wright. "Five minutes!" With that he slid the rest of the way down the ladder and headed once again to the back of the ship, this time on the lowest deck, where the engine room was located.

"Report!" he barked as he ducked into the crowded engine room. The sky engine took up virtually all of what had originally been the brig and magazine galley, and the vents, pipes and cables feeding into its heart ran along the floor, walls and ceiling of the deck like the ivy of some overrun manor. As he listened to his engineer Grady bent down to peer at the stannum chamber, glowing orange through the small thick glass window with a brightness that made him squint. He rapped a knuckle lightly against the pane. "We could be going to battle any minute now - I don't want this bitch hiccuping on me again, yah?" He didn't add that it was his own fault the sky engine was 'hiccuping' - for the past two days he'd told Rennway to keep the Aleph Null as high in the chop as possible, to reduce their steam plume wake and minimize the risk of detection. Add that to trawling slowly in a vessel not meant to idle this long and a sky engine not drinking enough coolant because of their pace and it was a wonder the ship hadn't fallen from the sky yet. "Just keep her flying!" he'd order at the end of the conversation before turning and striding back out the door.

On his way back to the quarterdeck where he'd find the navigation room, Grady ran into his Master Gunner, Balder Goldenwood. "You got your end squared away old man?" he asked as he clapped the huge man hard on the shoulder in greeting. "I don't want just any broke-dick sailor running aboard now; I want a small crew of your best, led by you, yah?" It was something they'd already gone over, numerous times since leaving Havenstad for this mission. The boarding party was to be half the fighting crew of the Aleph Null, some twenty-odd men, led by Grady and Williams. Their goal was to keep the deck clear and the defending forces occupied, while Balder led a smaller team belowdecks to find the prize the doctor's informant had called out.

"And make sure you take Latvanen with you," Grady added as he strode down the hallway for the ladder. He wondered who else, aside from Marko Latvanen, the Master Gunner would round up for his team. That mute son-of-a-mare Lasrach would be a good choice provided they didn't wedge themselves shoulder-to-shoulder trying to walk down a hallway together.

Grady continued on his way up to the navigation room, addressing sailors as he passed. Although Williams had briefed the crew on the battle plan even before they broke the chop leaving Havenstad, and everyone knew their respective roles, Grady made sure everyone was able to quickly declare their directions by getting in their face and barking questions at them. He needed to know they could remember their orders even under the stress of pitched battle, and the closest way he could simulate that without unloading his firearm at their feet, was to snap questions out and see how quickly they responded.

Finally back on the main deck and heading toward the quarterdeck where the navigation room was housed, Grady stopped to scan the horizons. The chop stretched out before him as far as the eye could see in all directions, a uniform gray bleakness save where it was broken up by the massive 'anvil' cloud towers that stretched seemingly to the heavens, so large that they cast their own shadows on the sky floor below. With the sun directly behind one such tower Grady strained his eyes to peer into the swirling mists backlit by the sun's brilliant rays. He wondered if any of the roiling shapes he saw flickering within were Caithness.

Like so much of navigating these skies, skirting along these cumulonimbus towers was all about walking a fine line - if you got close enough you could use the towers to mask your own exhaust wake and reduce detection; but too close and you tempted any possible hidden Caithness within to pounce. Caithness large enough to take down an airship like the Aleph Null were quite rare - legendary in fact - but smaller Caithness could still rip through your ventus sails, damage your navigation instruments and of course snatch up any exposed sailors on the deck. That's why it was important to have the best navigator in the sky aboard your ship - it was more than just plotting lines and setting courses; the best ones could read the clouds at a glance, could track another ship's wake while burying their own, and spoke of the sky like it was an old friend, a bitter enemy and their one true love all rolled into one. He'd have to ask Octavius if there was a Folkl word for that.

"Captain on the deck!", the runner from earlier announced when Grady closed the door behind him. The navigation room sat squarely above his Great Cabin below, but while his Cabin held room enough for his private quarters as well as his officers' mess area and war room, the navigation room was a single open expanse, all four walls made of glass panes that the swabbies mopped daily. Flight controls, maps, star maps, astrolabe, observation equipment - all it needed was a cot and a chamber pot and he knew his Sailing Master would never leave.

"Ms. Rennway, report," he said, coming to stand at just to the right of the helm beside her, hands clasped loosely behind his back as he scanned the skies once more. According to the doctor's informant, their target would be on a course through this section of the sky today. They'd been trawling slowly through the chop since yesterday, and although Grady wouldn't admit it he was starting to get a little restless. 'Hurry up and wait' had been the army motto during the Sorrowars, but nearly twenty years later it seemed he still hadn't developed an old soldier's patience.

Alexander Van Williams, first rate First mate aboard the Aleph Null, stood topside to the elements. The wind was cutting, and at any moment a severely strong gust threatened to blow a man overboard, but that was the job when you were 13,000 feet into the blue. In addition to his vibrant vest, armory of firearms, and sabre on his hip, Alex had donned a pair of thick leather gloves, and glass goggles.

Williams strode along the deck, really just supervising, but it was important to show face prior to action. He stopped at random sailors and made small talk. He laughed at whatever joke they said, clapped their backs. Promised them that this boarding action would be easy, a milk run.

Alexander was listening to a man drone on about how they were too high for the ship to maintain this speed for much longer. He was an apprentice in those affairs, but he was adamant that the ship would need to descend at some point to cool the engines. This is where the runner found him.

"First Mate Williams!" The man yelled over the wind. "Captain Grady requests your presence in the navigation room five minutes ago!" Alex nodded, and headed below deck, pulling his gloves of and tucking them into his belt while pushing his goggles up. Alex stopped at the store room, and pulled out a bottle of rum that was already opened. He took a swig, and put the bottle back, before heading to the navigation room.

Alex entered the navigation room a scant 30 seconds prior to Grady entering. He stepped to the side and watched him walk across the room. Alex followed him across the room, and leaned close, talking very quietly as Grady asked for a report. "Captain, it's my duty to inform you that one of the deck hands has noticed we're running too high in the chop for the engines to cool. I don't know much about the engine, but I figured I must let you know." Once he was done, Alex took a step back, and turned to listen to the report.

Elara Rennway stood at the helm, frowning slightly as she directed the ship away from one of the many cloud towers that covered the sky in these parts. She’d been in the navigation room all day, and various maps and charts were spread out on every nearby surface. The clutter served as evidence that she’d been going over the ship’s current course, checking and rechecking every aspect of the journey, not that she was likely to make a mistake in the first place.

The sailing master was not extremely happy at the moment. The Aleph Null had been sailing less and less smoothly over the course of the last day or so, and she hated to keep it at this kind of pace. She had felt the ship lurch in the sky only moments earlier, as she was sure every other crewmember had as well. The captain wanted them to go undetected and so they would. This particular stretch of sky had an ample amount of cumulonimbus clouds reaching up into the blue. It was perfect for sailing unnoticed, though she supposed that itself could be both a blessing and a curse if their target decided they didn’t want to be seen either. Fingers tapping lightly on the helm, Elara kept her eye on the skies, like always.

At least the winds seem to be somewhat favorable today, she was thinking to herself as the captain and first mate came into the room. Elara looked over at them. “Captain,” she said, nodding her head in greeting. She gazed out at the skies as she spoke, traces of unease detectable in her voice.

“I’ve been going over the maps,” she started, briefly gesturing to a few of the frankly extensive amount of papers currently out in the open. “If the information we have is good, this is just about where the target’s going to be. Frankly, I’m surprised we haven’t seen them already. As you can see, there are plenty of cloud towers out here, so it’s possible they’re just out of view.” There were all kinds of possibilities really. The target could’ve been delayed, or it could’ve been warned ahead of time. However, Elara had an uneasy feeling. Maybe the winds were a bit too favorable. Something was probably going to go wrong, she thought. Something usually did.

She paused, clearly irritated. Elara had never been skilled at hiding her feelings, and she truly never bothered to try. “With the way we’ve been going through the chop these past couple of days, maneuverability’s going to be down when it comes to fighting. Especially at this speed, a quick getaway’ll be hard on the ship. In short, we probably should’ve come across the target by now, and the ship’s not in the greatest flying condition to boot.”

*Bang-taptap, Bang-taptap, Bang-taptap*
This was his heartbeat, this was his soul, this was his voice... Now. Oh sure, he came to terms with it long ago, nothing to be long in the face over anymore. But every now and again he would wonder how the cards might have shuffled differently. If he had done something different, would he still be here? Would she still be out there?

*Bang-taptap, Bang-taptap, Bang-taptap*
As it is, he had a good life. He knew he was useful here, he knew people needed him. Needed, but did they want him? He was the only beast on board, the rest seemed to be exclusive to human. No Bogles, no Elfes, no Gygr or other Deor of any breed. He was certain the captain kept him for the skill set, but did Grady keep him around just for appearances as well? If they went to a human only place then they could keep him out of the way or the only non-human around, and if they needed to look 'cultured' they could keep him right on hand to look like there were more than there really was.

*Bang-taptap, Bang-taptap, Bang-taptap*
But who was he to say? He was a one trick pony and he took security in that. No one else he knew could work metals without a forge like he could with his Gyurgy. That was a skill he hoped to spread to others more accepting of a beast like him, but so far no luck.

*Bang-taptap, Bang-taptap, Bang-taptap*
Finally done, he looked over his newest piece. One of the engine folk had asked him to repair a piece before it needed to be replaced so he was aligning the steel once more, making it flow smoothly rather than whorl against itself. He spoke to the spirit in the steel, coaxing it out and massaging away the imperfections from its heavy use like how Octavius treats a patient. Perhaps this was the reason he lost his voice, so he could learn how to talk to the metals.

The cool air swirled around Marko Latvanen in the crew quarters. The rough jarring of the ship left him feeling uneasy; after all, he'd never been aboard an airship before. While he had never been afraid of the concept, experiencing it was a different story. Each creak and moan of the vessel put him on edge, and he questioned all of the things he had done that led up to this point. Nevertheless, he knew what was coming next. The first mark this crew would see with him on board, and everything would be ripe for the taking. There was no defense for a pick and a man good with it.

He sharpened his dagger slowly against a stone, meticulously crafting the edge, it's brushed steel reflecting small amounts of the light from around him, making it seem to glow. He had no idea if he was going to be on the boarding party, but if he was, it was best to be prepared. His razor would need to be in perfect working order. He had just completed the checks of his cracking tools, filing picks where they had been damaged, and testing them on some locks laying about. It could take ten seconds or ten minutes, but no matter the lock, he would break it, and it brought him great pride knowing he was a master of his craft.

The ship rocked again, and his loose grip on the stone sent it flying several feet away from him. A sign, no doubt, that his work was done. He fixed the air goggles onto his face, tightened the leather gloves, holes where the thumb and index fingers had been on each glove, and made sure nothing was going to be sent flying at a random gust of wind. He strapped down his black boots, the silver eyelets dully shining. Sheathing his blade, he determined himself as ready as he'll ever be. His hand slightly twitched in nervous anticipation, and he sighed deeply. It might not be the most moral of lives, but it was his life to lead. He whispered to himself, a mixture of prayer and readying thought.

"Let the fun begin."

Vee looked off to the radiant afternoon glow through the wall-sized window at the end of the room, giving off an orange hue within his cozy little space: the infirmary. Vee found the space rather large for its intended use, as actual surgery was only needed for a few occasions where his Solurgy could not complete the job in-action. As such, Vee has since tidied and personalized the room to act as his own personal quarters and study, as well.

Upon entrance, a large bookcase sprawls against the right wall, filled to the brim with varying books, typically the non-fiction sort... but you could find a few dozen stories on the Adventures of Morq'qlor if you searched hard enough. On the left is the typical "infirmary" part of the room's actual intention: a few drawers and mantlepieces where Vee stores some herbs and the ship's medical supplies, his alchemic supplies, and the operating table laid out, ready for use just in case the need arose.

In the center lied his desk and chair; modest, but a good enough place to write letters and papers, with the aforementioned window behind it. Throughout the room lays many a planted vase, either hanging from the ceiling or standing, giving the vibe of an arboratem than a doctor's study. Vee currently sits at his desk, still looking out the window, enjoying the clouds, pen and trusty journal in hand...



It was then that Grady made his rather explosive entrance, flinging the door open with usual bravado. Vee raised an eyebrow in response to his action, and it remained there following his comment. "This is indeed the trade route. My previous accomplices traveled these paths many a time. We will stumble across at least one unsuspecting coin vessel." Grady proceeded to suggest for Vee to take one of the fresher crewmembers under his wing for the time being; the merchant's daughter. Grady made a speedy exit.



Vee rose from his seat, making an exit shortly behind Grady's upon completion of his journal entry, though climbing up as opposed to down. Vee made his entrance on deck, raising the collar of his trench coat in response to the biting winds. It had already been a few months since Vee first boarded the Aleph Null, but he was still inexperienced as far as his "sea legs" were concerned... or his concern of "sea heights"... or most anything else dealing with what was essentially a floating death machine, as far as Vee was really concerned.

It wasn't a long walk before Vee saw the young girl, tending to her own duties on deck. Vee approached her just enough that he was in view, then gestured gently with his hands in her direction. "Yes, you girl. Come, come." He kept his pace, didn't even bother to stop, assuming she would quickly come to his side and know not to keep him slow. Surely she would be aware that there was much to prepare for in the ensuing encounter.

“I got it, Master Captain” He addressed the captains orders with a hint of sarcasm, a hint of respect. Even Balder didn't know what he meant by his ornery tone. Truth was, he did respect Wilton Grady.

'No nonsense. Gets the job done.' There was another man on this ship who reflected these sentiments, and it was about time he shaped up his crew like the captain wanted. The men and women who Balder would be selecting were good folks, and he thoroughly enjoyed a few of them; however, they would need to be more than just good folks if they were going to survive in the dangerous life they all had chosen. Balder took a long drink from a bottle of double barrel malt whiskey – aged in two barrels: the first with its thick oak staves bound by more wood strips, the second bound by alumen caith hoops.

Following the sounds of a smith's hammer repeatedly banging against a piece of metal, Balder shouted as he entered the room. “Shake a hoof there, ya arm-flappin' horse's arse! We're gettin' to movin'.” He walked over to the Deor and clapped him on the shoulder fondly. Balder had always had a huge soft spot for Lasrach. It might have been a protective feeling over the man that least fit in with the rest of the crew, being one of the few non-humans and mute to compound the issue. It also might have been the fact that the old man saw a bit of himself in the hulking horseman: a stoic, larger-than-life workhorse (Balder could barely excuse his own puns sometimes) who built his entire self concept around his work. Whenever he saw the horse, the feeling in the pit of his stomach was that of joy, pride, and guilt all mixed together in a confusing stew. Through all of his years with soldiers trained to follow commands at a moment's notice, Balder had never met anyone who measured up to Lasrach's standard. Balder strolled around the ship barking orders and instructions almost as frequently as Captain Grady, and another crew member would scarcely spring into action before the Deor.

All this time the kid spends listening to my old raspy barks, I really need to get on learning this screwy sign language of his. Balder had honestly been meaning to pick it up for a long time now. It was the least he owed to the man he saw as eventual successor as Master Gunner.

He had gone over the below-deck mission many times with the Deor, generally dictating out loud to walk through the steps in his own head. With the plan complete; however, Balder knew that Lasrach knew the plan much better than he needed to, so it was time to inform the other four pirates, making the six in total he had deemed appropriate. He made his way over to the crew quarters where he knew the most pivotal member of his reconnaissance team would be.

Marko Latvanen wasn't the kind of person with whom Balder was used to associating, but this didn't change the fact that he was going to play a major role in their collection of the target payoff. Though it was his first time working with the rest of the crew, the determination and ambition of the thief – displayed in his meticulous focus when sharpening his knife or checking each and every one of cracking tools – would ensure success. The way Balder found him only served to reinforce his confidence.

“Latvanen! You're with me, lad. While Van Williams and Cap are brawlin' on the deck with the boardin' party, we are going to be a few floors down, acquirin' the bounty. This is where you come in, ya thieving twinkle toes. You're goin' to be meetin' with Jory, studyin' the projected layout of our target ship, because you and I've got the lead once we're down there.” Balder went on to explain the rest of the plan to the new boy, making sure to describe each of the other members of their six-man squad.

After his time with Marko Latvanen, Balder did the same with the rest of his team: the twins, Cameron and Christian Bridesson, and Jory who'd all but memorized the expected location of their objective. After sending Jory over to the crew quarters to meet with Latvanen, the old man worked his way over to the navigation room to inquire about their arrival time with the captain and the sailing master, Miss Rennway.

“Shake a hoof there, ya arm-flappin' horse's arse! We're gettin' to movin'.”

Larach felt the hard clap on his shoulder and made a dramatic nod of his huge head to convey understanding. He had been the one to fashion a copy of a ship from an child's toy into a layered schematic. Stacking several planks of wood, he had clamped them all together then sawed and shaved away to a rough ship-shape before separating them away to sit with the carpenter on how each room sat on the decks. It was rough and blueprint-like, great for a visual to teach from. Perhaps if this all went well, he would finish it up fine as a present to the captain for a successful raid.

As the master gunner moved on to gather the rest, he fell in behind with hammer in one hand and toy boat in the other until they got to the next on the team. While balder explained the plan, again, Larach tried to tap a finger on the thieves tools and wiggle his fingers as a silent request to see if he wanted the Deor's Gyurgy or not. Superstition against magic aside, a lot of people don't like others messing with their stuff, adding superstition just made it worse.

By the time Balder was done, Larach handed the boat over to the elder for him to carry as he gathered the rest of the crew for the mission. It might make things easier to explain over and over. He looked to the man in ways like a surrogate to his own missing father figure from his home. Larach knew he had a long way to go and the human had more practical knowledge than all of the Deor's artistic skill and gyurgy combined.

A figure stepped into Cally’s field of vision and she glanced up. It was the Doctor, the one that didn’t look totally human. He made a slight gesture with his hands. “Yes, you girl. Come, come.” He said. His tone was mild, not at all impatient, but he continued on his way without stopping.

Cally bit back a sigh. “Yes, Mr Octavius.” She said politely, and quickly finished coiling the rope she had been winding and replaced it carefully on the deck before hurrying after him. She knew that the captain would’ve told him to keep her in the infirmary while he and his crew attacked pirates (because of course the people they were attacking had to be pirates, didn’t they?) to ensure she didn’t get injured. Yes, father would be upset if she got hurt, but why had he bothered paying for her to have fencing lessons if he never expected her to fight? Oh well – she’d been in the infirmary before, and found it a pleasant enough place; the books that were stacked in the bookcase on the right wall, the desk in front of the window, the many plants that stood in the room, all of them gave the room an appearance almost like a study providing one didn’t look too closely at the operating table.

Cally glanced over the side at the clouds all around them as the deck jerked slightly underneath her, instinctively shifting her balance to compensate and gave a slight smile. She loved being aboard an airship – there was no feeling like it. Life on solid ground felt stale and boring afterwards.

“What would you like me to help you with, doctor?” She asked as she dropped into step beside him. No doubt there was plenty they needed to do before the battle started.

As he rose from the linen and cotton bed, Marko heard the footsteps coming into the quarters. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed an old man followed closely by a Deor, the human and beast hybrids. Marko had never personally dealt with a Deor before, so it was surprising encountering the horse man. The first, older man, Marko knew his name as Balder, the Master Gunner for the Aleph Null. In Marko's personal experience, he was impressively aged, and certainly older than most of the wards of the alleys would ever achieve in their short and brutish lives.

Marko was unsure what the approach was about at first. He assumed it would be his position in the whole affair, and by that measure, he was correct. “Latvanen! You're with me, lad. While Van Williams and Cap are brawlin' on the deck with the boardin' party, we are going to be a few floors down, acquirin' the bounty. This is where you come in, ya thieving twinkle toes. You're goin' to be meetin' with Jory, studyin' the projected layout of our target ship, because you and I've got the lead once we're down there.” The man's straight-to-the-point attitude was a relief. Marko listened intently and silently as Balder continued on with the details of each crewmember's role in their little party. Simple enough. Break, enter, and burglarize while the rest of the crew does the topside nastiness.

"Aye aye, sir, I'll wait here for you to send Jory my way," Marko finally replied at the end of the briefing. He hadn't the slightest who Jory was, so it would be futile trying to seek him out in the chaos of the preparations. Once he got the information that got him to the target, he'd be able to do his job. With all good fortune, they send the crew to the depths, missing their favorite goods and valuables, and their crew would be that much richer.

He noticed the Deor tap on his tools, and Marko was not entirely sure what the intention was. He had heard the Deor was a gyurgist, and assumed that was the intent of what he was trying to do. For the life of him, Marko could not ascertain if Larach was attempting to use his gyurgy, or if he was requesting permission. At that moment in time, Marko did not really want to find out, given the tightness of the schedule. He could craft another tool in an hour, but right now time was short, and he didn't want to take a chance being unfamiliar with the tools he was to take. "Maybe another time, my friend," he calmly stated, though with some haste. He would be curious to see what Larach could do, but not at that point in time.

With the raid on the horizon, hopefully literally as well as metaphorically, he waited for Jory to come. There was nothing more that he'd like than to get the nerve wracking ordeal over with. He loved the danger, but there was always something to fear in danger. The waiting was the worst. There was no fear in action, only action. Dedication of thought to a single objective, and the world melted away, along with all doubt and emotion. If there was anything Madam Mervi had taught him in those cruel, cold halls, it was that the world meant nothing in the course of action. Fear and pain were fleeting, but your actions were forever.

"One of the deck hands," the captain grated as he turned to regard his first mate. "One of the deck hands," he repeated, "has noticed? No fucking shit Alex! You tell him we're riding high in the chop because we don't want to be seen until we locate our target!" he thundered, before turning to his sailing master. "Maintain present speed until we sight the vessel. Then, I want you to spool up the engines and drop in the chop until the engine's running cool. Then, circle it wide, girl, until we're behind it and half a league back, yah? After that," he continued, though he loathed giving out too many orders at once, since situations change almost as soon as the orders are out of your mouth. "I want you to raise us up so that we're in the that sonofabitch's sunspot," he said, referring to being directly in between the sun and the target vessel so as to be hidden during their approach. With the afternoon sun somewhat low in the western sky, and them being half-a-league behind the target, Grady fudged the numbers and guessed they'd need to raise between 200-300ft above the chop. He trusted Elara to run the geometry of it beforehand - hell, she could probably do it in her head.

As they accelerated toward the target she'd keep lowering the Aleph Null, the goal being to be hidden for as long as possible before coming alongside and grappling with the ship. Normally he wouldn't have been this worried about detection - once the vessel was spotted they could easily just race toward it and engage - except the doctor's informant had been clear that the target would sooner see the package destroyed than lost. Every second they could shave off of their detection before boarding, and every second the boarding party was able to buy Goldenwood's crew, would maybe be the deciding factor between pulling off this mission successfully or going home empty-handed. If that meant shunting the engine and running hot... well that's what he paid Kisaki to handle.

"I spoke to Balder," Grady said, turning away from the helm and heading toward his first mate, "His crew should be all ready soon. We need to be careful how we handle our end of the engagement. We need those bastards to think they're winning so they don't attempt to junk the prize, and that means keeping our party as small as possible. But we gotta keep them pressed so they don't break anyone away to secure the cargo. Once we engage I want us to slowly turtle up and get surrounded. Just be ready to punch a way through when Goldenwood and his boys return. Thoughts?"

As he spoke Grady had slowly made his way to the back hatch of the navigation room, which he swung open now before stepping out onto the balcony. Thin wisps of their reduced steam plume drifted to meet them but quickly dissipated in the wind. He could hear the steady drone of the sky engine, maintaining the stannum fields that manipulated the wind into keeping them aflight. The ship had five rectangular metal panels recessed slightly into the hull at the fore, aft, port, and starboard of the ship as well as directly beneath the keel, all of which maintain the stannum fields the sky engine generates and the navigator manipulates to change course.

With both hands on the rail Grady stood with his back leg cocked straight and his front leg slightly bent as he leaned his weight forward onto the rail and idly spat over the side as he listened to any of his first mate's thoughts. Then he turned back around as he fished a fat half-smoked cigar from his front pocket and went about relighting it.

"You want to lead the boarding party?" he asked idly as he puffed the cigar back into life. Heavily unctuous, oily flavors reached his senses - originally the cigar'd had some subtle spice and vanilla notes but apparently the last few days spent in his front pocket half smoked had leeched out its complexity and character, leaving just a cloying bitterness. There was probably a metaphor in there somewhere, or so he wondered. "I'm still going, of course, but it's about time you started taking over leading these boys. Just don't fucking coddle them - you'll get more men killed trying to protect them than by pushing them forward. Learned that in the trenches."

After a few more joyless moments puffing at the cigar he finally crushed it out against the railing and returned it to his front pocket. Maybe it would get better again.

When Grady scolded him, Alex would just nod his head. Grady advised him of his plans for the boarding. This was a new idea, Grady hadn't told Alex much about the prize, nor had he really inquired into it. "Sir, if you would permit me to know, what prize do you think is aboard this ship?" Alex asked, looking at him. He paused for a second, before raising his hand. "Ahh, nevermind sir. I don't suppose I need to know yet. Your request sounds simple enough. We latch on, board. Overextend to insert our boys, and fall back a bit. I'll let the boys know that the goal should be suppressing fire, over kill shots so they think its more of a fight." Alex said, scratching his chin.

Alex, rubbed his palms together, as Grady walked over to the rail. He watched him puffing on the cigar, looking like he was sucking on acid. "Uh..., speaking frankly, Grady, last time I saw a man make that face, he had just kissed a hooker in a wharf." If Grady looked over, Alex would shrug, and put his hands up, palm up in mock surrender. "Don't shoot the messenger, sir." he said, with a smile.

Alex considered his offer. Lead the boys. It was something that had played at the back of his mind sometimes. He knew most of them pretty well. He'd drank with most of them too much. Alex had led small, middling boarding parties before, but nothing that seemed this important, before. And not with Grady along to check his results.

"If you'll permit me sir, I'll lead it. But I don't think you have to worry about coddling them" Alex said, as he subconsciously ran his thumb along the pistol on his hip. It had been about 6 months since he had executed a deckhand for considering mutiny. "Battles and bars aren't the same place, and even if the lads know I'll drink with them. Well, they know what happens when I'm upset." Alex finished, sniffing loudly, waving his hand in front of his face to disperse the acrid smoke from the cigar.

A faint, wry grin emerged on Vee's face as the young lady gained pace.

"Oh, yes. I'm glad of you to ask. Here's our first of many conundrums..."

The two reached the starboard front of the deck in a matter of moments with Vee's unnaturally hefty pace, with the mid-day orange glow facing outward, forward bound in the expanse. He trailed his hand forward theatrically, into the vast. There seemed to be nothing there.

"...I want you to help me with something; very, peculiar, my dear. Tell me; do you see anything unusual in the distance?"

"Maybe another time, my friend."

The reply was fast, defensive but understandable. This man had a relationship with the spirits of his tools and far be it from Larach to disturb their intimacy. He gave the man a click of the tongue like others would do to their beasts and stepped back with a soft smile.

He took a few moments more in the doorway to let the man with fine tools ask him anything. If he returned to his preparations, then it was a soft dismissal of professionals. If he had anything to ask, then they could while away the the time until it was time to go to work to keep the tension low.

Larach knew he was there in great part for his bulk, both as a battering ram as well as a door jamb. Not to mention the fact that whatever they needed to get might be heavy as hell so he might have to shoulder the weight of the retrieval. It was up to this one to be the delicate touch and the other two (sisters? twins?) to be support or combat below decks.

Elara watched the captain address, or rather shout, at his first mate impassively. She’d been a crew member of the Aleph Null for two years now, and that was more than enough time to become accustomed to the captain’s less than congenial nature. When he turned to her she straightened, eager to hear what the plan was. She was dying to get the ship out of this prolonged idling and do some real flying. Waiting for the target to appear was making her anxious.

She listened to his instructions attentively, already visualizing the maneuvers in her head. The captain’s plan made sense, and with a bit of finesse it wouldn’t be a hard task to accomplish. Grady did seem to be putting quite a bit of weight on remaining unseen for as long as possible, so she would need a smidgen more finesse than usual, though it shouldn’t be a problem. The weather seemed to be in decent condition for this kind of job, she mused. The thing Elara really needed to worry about was making sure the ship didn’t stay too low in the chop for too long, otherwise the plume of steam the ship would generate might give away their location too soon. Her mind was going over the calculations for each step, trying to plan the best course of action as per the captain’s instructions. Her earlier frustration began to fade away as she focused on the task at hand, she almost forgot to respond.

“Of course, Captain,” she said, turning back to the wheel. “There shouldn’t be any problems. I’ll alert you as soon as I spot the bastards as we can get this show on the road.” She narrowed her eyes at the clouds before them, willing the target to come out where she could see them. She heard the two men exit the navigation room behind her as she watched the skies.

Elara concentrated on the view in front of her, fingers drumming on the wheel impatiently. She maintained the same, mind numbingly slow speed they’d been going at for the past two days, as instructed. Trying to find a ship that should have shown up at least an hour ago was grating on the young sailing master’s nerves. Luckily, she did not have to wait much longer. No more than half an hour later she could see it. There, in the distance, a dark shape was coming around one of the cloud towers, quite a ways away. “Oh, thank the stars,” she muttered, squinting at the ship, trying to get a better look without having to pull out her telescope, only to do so a moment later. The ship was maybe two leagues away, she estimated, looking at the vessel through the telescope’s lens. Given their position and distance, there was no way the Aleph Null could have possibly been spotted yet, flying as subtly as they were. She left the helm briefly, sticking her head outside the navigation room. She snagged the first crew member that passed by, some young deck hand, and spoke to him quickly, her firm voice causing the boy to snap to attention.

“Find the captain and first mate immediately, you hear? Tell them the target has been spotted, a little less than 2 leagues away, and I’ll be carrying out the plan presently. Then, you find Kisaki down in the engine room and tell her we’re about to start moving for real.”

The boy stood, looking at her for a moment.

“Go!” she snapped, and let out a frustrated sigh as he gave her a small salute and ran off to find Captain Grady and Van Williams.

“Okay,” she said, letting out a breath at she took her place back at the ship’s wheel. “Here we go.”

With Elara at the helm, the Aleph Null began to sink slowly, lowering further into the chop. She could feel the ship creak with the sudden change in movement. Outside the glass walls of the navigation room, she could see the swirling gray clouds increase as the ship descended. She continued to move the vessel forward as she sank, still going slowly, but at the same time beginning to approach the target, given that they were still quite a ways off. She glanced back towards the aft of the ship frequently, keeping an eye on the steam that began to increase ever so slightly as the vivum worked to cool the ship’s engine.

Elara stayed low in the chop for a short time, letting the coolant do its job. Outside the navigation room she could hear various crew members racing back and forth as they all prepared for the tasks ahead. Attacking another ship was no easy business, she thought. She could feel the difference in flight as the ship began to run more smoothly, and began to rise the vessel slightly, increasing the speed as they went. They began to gain on the target, but Elara warily eyed the steam coming out of the ship. They’d had to cool it down, but the quickest way to be spotted was by the telltale white plume that followed every airship.

Elara would make sure they remained undetected for as long as possible. If she got her way, the other ship wouldn’t even know they existed until they were already side by side. With this in mind, she reached out with her senses, focusing on the stannum in the wind all around the ship. Mentally reaching out, she manipulated the caith around the vessel, the newly blowing wind causing the steam to dissipate before it could truly become noticeable. It wasn’t necessarily easy to focus on both flying and aeurgy, having her concentration split on two very different tasks, but Elara had had her fair share of practice doing just that.

Soon they were fast approaching the target, the distance closing as Elara circled the ship, wide like the captain wanted, using the cloud towers around them as cover whenever they passed by one. Once they were a little more than half a league back, the Aleph Null began to rise steadily in the sky, lifting out of the chop all together and going higher and higher. Getting in someone’s sunspot was sometimes a challenging thing. You had to be close enough to make your move, but also make sure that they didn’t see you rising out of the chop, which would defeat the initial purpose entirely. Sure, Elara had worked out the numbers in her head, and could tell someone exactly how high they needed to be, but if you were to ask her, this kind of flying relied on feeling and skill more than it did on straight measurement. Luckily, the clouds around them seemed to give the ship sufficient cover as they rose, and suddenly, it was time to approach the enemy vessel.

Hearing the usual groan of protest from the ship as she suddenly changed the direction of their movement, the ship descended, moving further forward. When they were close, she increased the speed, wanting to get beside the other ship as soon as possible. It was inevitable that they would be seen now, but the Aleph Null was pulling in alongside them before they’d have had enough time to really react anyways. Now, she mused, it’s up to everybody else to do their jobs. She sighed in relief and let her aeurgy fade away. However, she thought, a small frown forming on her face, now I have to wait. She sighed again, this time in resignation. Elara disliked waiting.

Balder tightened and relaxed his grip on his blade, feeling the blood flow through his aged veins. The weapon selected for this mission was a heavy cutlass, perfect for belowdecks, close-quarters combat with its short and thick blade (compared to a rapier or a sabre). On his back, strapped to his leather and metal ring bandolier, was his flintlock ferrum rifle – though he didn't actually think that a firearm would be necessary – and his kilij, a cross-hilted, curved blade useful for slashing opponents or especially for cutting rigging.

His team together and ready for action, Balder gazed upon them confidently. There were Cameron and Christian Brideson, an agile, nimble throwing knives expert and a lean, but powerful swashbuckler with a keen eye respectively. In front of them was Marko Latvanen, the key to this operation, the skilled, precise thief who would lead their expedition and guide them in the proper method for breaking and entering, eliminating everybody in their way, acquiring the target. Immediately next to him was Lasrach, the muscle of the operation. The deor would be essential for the elimination of any obstacles from doors to barricades to other sailors. Bringing up the rear was the ever-nervous Jory, twitching and trembling despite the fact that he was more prepared for the mission than anybody else.

“Okay there, fellas. We all know what's goin' down. Latvanen's lead, so we're goin' reeeeeeal silent like, ya hear? Don't be makin' any ruckus – our good ol' steed here won't be havin' a problem with that part – and ya see a single sailor down there, ya end 'im. Nobody knows we're down there until we got what we're lookin' for.” Balder addressed his team with certainty and boldness, for he knew that he had assembled a capable team. He knew each and every one of their strengths and weaknesses, Marko Latvanen aside, and assured himself that they were more than enough to handle the task at hand. Latvanen was the only wild-card, but Balder knew that there was no chance that his feisty captain would allow anybody on board the ship that he wasn't sure of, especially someone as shady as the thief. All Balder could hope for was ability and loyalty. Marko Latvanen clearly had the former in excess, and if nothing else, this mission would serve to prove the presence of the latter.

As they began to near the opposing ship, Balder was filled with confidence anew, seeing that the model was indeed an accurate replica. The team would be entering the boat through a small loading bay that Jory and Marko had identified on Lasrach's precise model. The bay was only large enough to house one or two external vessels, so there wouldn't be too many people working there. After dispatching the engineers and sailors in the bay, they would make their way through a wide hall, the only time they really risked detection. From then, Jory and Marko would lead them through a series of different rooms and smaller hallways to eventually reach the destination.

Balder was relatively confident; however, the old man knew all too well that complications could arise from a multitude of sources. They would have to be intentional and alert.

"Tell me; do you see anything unusual in the distance?"

Cally blinked, slightly puzzled by the doctor's question: she'd been expecting simple things, like maybe grinding up some herbs in a pestle and mortar or laying out some bandages and gauze for treating any wounded, not questions. "Um-" she squinted out uncertainly in the direction he indicated. Her father had told her to learn what she could on this voyage, and he must have had a reason for asking, so she strained her eyes. "I don't think so, doctor." She said hesitantly.

"We're sailing around the cloud towers, of course, and have been sailing rather too slowly lately." There was a hint of disapproval in her voice: Caliana loved airships enough to think doing anything that could damage them was wrong. She felt the ship give another slight skip under her feet as it started to rise.

"Oh! Is that where the other ship is going to appear?" She asked. "The one we're going to attack?" Her voice was slightly breathless with growing excitement, and one hand unconsciously dropped to the hilt of the dagger at her belt, gripping it tightly.

Vee was pleasantly surprised by the girl's evident thought into the question. Alas, it was still incorrect, but not far from the mark. He wouldn't admit it if asked outright, but he took a particular liking to the young girl; she was one of the few on this ship that came from a higher upbringing, which he could relate to. And albeit not by choice, she took to the opportunity with a great deal of enthusiasm and curiosity. Her inquisitiveness reminded him a bit of himself, while her impulse with which he lacked he couldn't help but admire.

She was what Vee would call one of his "frequent patients"... the ones who seemed to take a steadfast mission to get on his operating table. While it was only for minor injuries here or there, and most not even battle related, it certainly showed dedication if nothing else... and constitution to boot, as she seemed to take a liking to his books and medical trinkets as he was busy knitting a few stitches or the sorts, as if she were merely enjoying a breezy summer afternoon. It was dawning on him that he may have made his quarters a tad too comfortable.

He turned to face the girl, his grin amiable, as if there was no sense of danger to be had (although there most certainly was). He gently waved his hand in the direction of her own, indicating her to watch her trigger fingers specifically.

"No, dove."

But there it was, far, far off in the distance. The bounty by which this crew has pursued, now reaching closer and closer as the ship gained acceleration. Here it was only a faint dot... but the way in which it slugged steadily in its movements, its mass like a black star against the orange skies, there was no denying by anyone who would happen to keep their eyes out for the unsuspecting speck.

"You are half correct. That which you see beyond the clouds is most indeed our prized target. But I asked you if there was anything unusual. Surely, with my immeasurable talent for calculations and our lovely pilot, Ms. Renway, this was the most certain outcome, yes?" He let out an "A-ha!" of sorts; but regressed with a stifled cough.

"No... for everything according to plan is indeed the unusual. A most worrisome unusual."

And just then, Vee went to his knees, pulling out a long rolled tarp of varying medical supplies from his trench coat, unrolling it on the deck. Colorful, vibrant, some even glowing herbs, fauna; varying, abundant sources of aurum. In addition, Vee had prepared a good dozen or so aidkits, with which he had begun handing a good portion of to Cally. He talked as he organized his varying supplies from the floor, anticipating their inevitable use.

"We will be approaching our target soon, and there is much we must anticipate. The first lesson you will learn today... and a very important one... your senses deceive you. If you see your target, can hear them, even smell them... this is when you must truly worry and prepare." Vee paused for a moment and tapped his cranium, indicating to Cally. "This will never deceive you. If your senses attempt to tell you otherwise, you must prepare for the worst, especially with others involved. If you don't, it will cost someone else the worst of all."

Vee finished up bringing some prepped herbs and vials into his pockets and rose, looking off the starbound side... the ship that they would be boarding was fast approaching, and certainly someone on board would know by now. Or perhaps they have known for a while, now? It was all going far too smoothly for Vee's comfort. He didn't turn as he continued talking to Cally, keeping his eyes on their bounty. "As you will be shadowing me, make certain to stay close. We may be moving on board, staying on deck... but in any case, I need you as my second pair of eyes."

Guided by the Sailing Master's deft maneuvering, the Aleph Null descends from its hidden vantage point toward its target, like an eagle swooping in on an unsuspecting trout. Enveloped by the rays of the lowering sun behind her, the Aleph Null remains undetected until the final moments that it pulls alongside the heavy freighter Bdylegmia.

Balder Goldenwood, Marko Latvanen, Lasrach Flame-Forge and their small crew are able to leap from the Aleph Null while still inbound, sliding down the freighter's upraised debarkation ramp at the rear of its hold, landing in the small loading bay. Of the half dozen or so men milling about or working on the smaller vessels aboard, none seem capable or prepared to put up any defense, shocked into inaction. When advanced upon, some may join together to mount a defense, while others will attempt to flee either to safety or to raise the alarm.

A moment later the hull shudders with the impact of the two ships locking together, the Aleph Null's hooked boarding planks swinging down to lock with the rails of the freighter's exposed main deck, as the boarding party rushes forward, led by Alexander van Williams and Wilton Grady. Despite their ship's stealthy approach the boarding party is met with immediate resistance - the Bdylegmia's larger crew apparently keeping armed men topside, ready to engage.



Catching a downward-swinging cutlass with his twin trench knives, Grady booted the defender's knee before slugging the dropped sailor with a right hook with the knife's brass knuckle guard. A brittle crunch met his ears - the lad's jaw. He ducked and quickly swiveled his head left and right as he sought out his first mate, leading the men. As expected, once it cleared its way onto the main deck the boarding party was falling back on itself, pushed in by the defending sailors. Too well... he thought, realizing that the freighter held a stauncher crew than expected. "Push up!" Grady bellowed, before jumping back and sucking his gut in to dodge a sword stroke, barely avoiding being gutted like a fish. The next thrust he turned away with his right blade, spinning and slashing back with his left - his vision turning red with a spray of arterial blood from the man's ruined throat.

Slowly, with exhortations from van Williams and Grady, the boarding party pushed its way forward once more, pressing the defending crew back, bare feet and boots trampling over fallen bodies - any injured who could be helped back to the Aleph Null would be sent for the doctor, or at the very least dragged back to the boarding planks; some groaning, cursing or crying and some slumped in silence. Grady turned back to examine the fighting, using his right forearm to wipe the blood from his eyes only to see his gray trencher's coat was stained an even deeper shade. He saw a slash in the fabric and his tunic beneath but couldn't see the extent of the injury, nor remembered taking one. Still, in the heat of the battle he was more aware of the blood ringing in his ears and thundering in his veins than dripping from his finger tips, so he stuck his blades back in their straps before drawing his firearms.

Strutted in the middle of theBdylegmia's wide deck there was a ladder recess, an alcove from which more sailors were scrambling from belowdecks to join the fight. Best to bottleneck them there instead of giving them room to maneuver... Grady leveled his two pepperbox pistols, discharging the firearms with a rapid succession of ferrum bolts that crackled through the air with a flare of red and a hiss like barrel-quenched steel. Grady had received his fair share of ferrum bolts in the Sorrowars and in the skies of Oceanica - it was something between being stabbed with a small sharp knife, stung by a Bokmakiri firebat, branded with a poker and kicked by a mule, all rolled into one. Enough shots would kill you, but even the one shot he gave each man would be enough to put them on the deck for the rest of the fight...

Except for one man, wearing a tight jester's coat of motley garish colors, who kept walking forward after taking two bolts to the chest. Confused, Grady held down the triggers of both pistols, charging the rest of each ferrum core into single heavy shots that could punch holes through plate armor. He released both cores with a heavy kick of recoil and a flash like bottled thunder and lightning. When the motley man kept walking, unfazed, a slow realization of horror dawned on Grady.

"FIREATER!" he bellowed over the din of battle, holstering his guns and diving to one side as a swath of fire washed over where he'd just stood. The freighter had a fucking pyurgist aboard...

"Cover! Cover!" he shouted, but his shouts were met with screams from his crew as jets of fire began lashing over them. The men broke, scrambling in all directions to get away from those terrible flames. Grady watched as dumb, brave Kimbull charged the pyurgist with hawk-axe swinging above his head, only to be caught in a fire whirl as the urgist snapped his fingers. With the men scrambling in any which direction, the pyurgist turned his attention to the Aleph Null and its exposed ventus sails.

As Marko ascended the ramp to the deck of the Aleph Null, he was well aware that he might be making his last walk in this world. He had done scores this difficult before, with fewer people, and he was well aware of the most basic rule: There is no perfect or flawed, no 'could have done it differently,' only success or death. In his line of work, a loaf of bread was eat or be whipped, and a mountain of gold was riches or certain death. This would be no easy task. Freighters always have something worth protecting, and life is less valuable in contrast to the items contained within. Adding to the difficulty was the aerial nature, a field for which he had no experience. He would succeed or die, with no middle ground to be found.

He listened absently to Balder's speech as he watched the freighter get closer and closer, their sailing master diving straight for the prize. The only thing Marko found himself thinking about was the ghosts of his past. His silent ritual, and absent memory clearing his mind of emotion and fear. The romantic books never told of just how damn scary being a shadow really is. Of course, the authors had no idea, they had never done a heist being hunted by fifty armed guards whose sole goal was to mount their heads on a spike. All of the silent memories, both fond and otherwise, and the path that lead him here. "This better be worth it," he mumbled under his breath, more to himself than as a sign of doubt. It didn't matter if anybody heard him, in thirty seconds he'd be flying right into the hornet's nest.

It came like a flash. Their opening, right where he and Jory had determined it to be. The narrow gap leading right down into the hull that would be their route of ingress. He turned to Lasrach, letting loose a sly smile. "Hope you gents are ready, this is going to be a party worth remembering," he said, turning and facing every man. There was a decent chance they wouldn't all come back, so it was worth taking a mental snapshot.

As if on autopilot, he jumped over the railing immediately as the order came. Springing away from the hull, there was about ten feet to the edge of the freighter's disembarkation ramp from where he had been. He could now officially check 'jump from an airship' from his bucket list, though it certainly wasn't what he had planned on when he signed up. Not a second later, without looking to see if anybody else had made it safely, skipped and nimbly slipped down the ramp, rolling to avoid any sudden stops.

He slipped out his dagger, the foot long razor blade ready to kill any would-be heroes, if there were any. The sailors inside the loading bay had no idea what was going on, and stood motionless, paralyzed and in shock. Their faces looked as if they had seen a ghost, pale and contorted with surprise. Another check off his bucket list: Get detected within seconds of breaching. A first, and not one he wanted to make. It wouldn't be long before they realized what was going on and started to defend themselves. It had been a long time since he last wet his blade, and it looked like the dry spell was about to end. It was either that, or wait for them to get their friends to slaughter the infiltration crew. They weren't equipped to deal with a sizable force, and any attempt to engage one would be doomed.

"We need to kill them," he calmly shouted, though with haste, to Balder. This was going to get very ugly, very quickly.. They had a couple seconds at best before they became officially screwed. "And preferably now!"