Breathing, breathing is good. Slow, like the sand. Still, like the earth. Coiling, like a gyser. Erupt, like an earthquake!

They had the moment to leap before the ships collided, but they were still aiming for the gap of the upturned docking ramp and not a wide target would it be. For just a moment he wished he spoke with the spirits of the wind to guide them all in rather than the spirits of the earth so very far away. But there was always his specialty, he spoke to the metals and they spoke back.

He called out to the steel, reaching out to the metal and beckoning for it to reach back to him by opening the ramp, if even a few inches. He called to the chains, letting them be like vines to swing from. Thick fingers found purchase in a length of links and he swung in as a living flail head meant to smash through the deckhands.

"We need to kill them and preferably now!"

Victory would only be achieved with shock and awe. Larach could think of nothing more awe inspiring than a half ton horse crashing through the air and breaking the big brass bell hanging from the wall. As he unfurled himself, he really hoped that was the alarm to the rest of the ship he broke and not just the dinner bell. He got up just in time to be knocked off his feet again as the ships collided.

Rei had only politely brushed off the captain's complaints about the engine, knowing that the captain knew why the engine was in the shape it was. Frankly, she was surprised that it hadn't fallen apart, even with her trying to keep up with the damages. Of course, each time the ship lurched, she immediately double checked everything, sealing any cracks that appeared, spreading out with a spiderweb-like appearance. Whatever she couldn't quickly weld on the spot, she swapped out for replacement parts from the crates nearby. There was a crate to the side however, with random damaged parts in it. The pile contained inside also seemed to be growing larger and larger.

Suddenly feeling the ship impact. "So it's begun." Muttering these words to herself, she gave a sigh of relief. That would mean the engine could recieve a well needed rest, and hopefully complete repairs could be underwent, instead of these little patches she had been conducting.

While repairing the engine, she kept her other senses sharp, intent to detect any possible sounds of either damage to the ship through explosions or cannon fire. However, she noticed something. Rather than heard, it was more of a feel. The same feeling that she had when she used ferrum. There was ferrum being released out, and in a way unnatural to the world. There was a pyurgist.

Glancing at the engine, she bit her lip. Her job was to repair the ship. By all technicalities, she was not a combatant. Despite these logical reasons...there was an urge, to head topside. To join the fray, to dance alongside the flames. A sweet whisper from the corner of her mind.

Giving into the urges, she placed her tools down, grabbing the sword, before running towards the open deck.

"Captain! the ship has been sighted!" the runner said to Alex and Grady. Now or never, Alex had to lead the show. "Right, gather the boys." He replied to the runner. "Captain, if you'd be so kind as to meet me on deck." Alex said with a smile, as he broke into a brisk walk. He stopped at his favorite supply closet and found his favorite bottle of liquid courage. He took a swig of rum, and brought it with him topside, and left his goggles in the closet behind.

Alex stepped onto the deck as the Aleph Null was on it's final approach to the Bdylegmia. Alex tossed the bottle to the nearest man, who took a swig and passed it down the line. He paced back and forth in front of the men for a second. His blond hair streaming in the wind. He had to shout to be heard. "Alright you whoresons! When we hit, drop the planks! Afterwards! You lot! With the blundergusts, I want you to clear that fucking deck!" Alex turned to look at the rapidly approaching ship. "Alright lads!" Alex said turning around, smiling wickedly.

The two ships collided, and some men lost their footing. Alexander Van Williams was determined to lead from the front and walked forward, firing his pistol at the other deck. He reached forward and dropped the first plank, as deck hands dropped the others. He didn't have time to shout, before the group with Blundergusts fired blindly at the opposing deck, laying a wide swath of death, clearing the deck for scant seconds. Alex drew his saber. "Do you want to live forever?!" He shouted, as he leaped onto the plank and charged across. He dropped down and cut through the belly of the first man he saw, and fired one of his two mancrushers at the next, leveling him.

Alexander was everywhere on the deck these first few moments, first gaining a bloody foothold with the boarding party, before they did the feint and started to fall back. Alex heard Grady's bellowed command, and echoed it. He had sheathed his saber, and was working with pistols now. It was hardwork keeping them all reloaded, but the boys were doing their job well, and bought him time to take cover. Alex was sitting behind a barrel, reloading his mancrusher, when he heard the first heavy 'Wooosh'. Confused, Alex rose up, and fired at the Fireater, just as Grady bellowed it. He looked down at his pistol, up, and then ducked.

Alexander drew his long knife, stood up, and vaulted over the barrel. He sprinted forward several steps. If the fireeater just kept looking at the sails, it'd be fine. Then he turned. Alex dropped to his knees and slid into cover, as a wash of fire burst around it. He crouched as tight as he could, trying to make himself as small a target as possible.

Between the giant horse thundering into the air and virtually through a brass bell and the thief leaping the distance between the ships while they were still three times the distance apart Balder was waiting for, Balder both sighed and smile at the situation he had made for himself. After literally throwing little Jory across the gap and into the ship to follow the Brideson boys, he finally launched himself across the now growing gap. Soaring through the air and landing on his feet...

...was what he had meant to do. Instead, like a misshapen cannonball, Balder lurched forward and to the left, crashing onto the deck painfully. Swearing as he gathered himself, he unsheathed his cutlass and sprinted into action – embarrassingly with a slight limp from the fall.

“We need to kill them and preferably now.”

He's got that right. Almost as an afterthought, Balder shouted out, “No Guns! We need to do this silentlike!”

Ironically, a few moments after his command, the old warrior made more noise than Lasrach in a china shop; parrying a metal pole, Balder punched out with his free left hand at the attacking engineer. He scored a direct hit and following it up with a bash from the metal guard of his cutlass. The sickening pop that comes with crunching bone shot through the air as the man's orbital floor collapsed. The half-blind engineer stumbled backwards, directly onto the project that he was working on. As the man fell into the ship's smaller, external exploring vessel, the engine started. The boat started up with a deep thud and a sharp grinding sound. Before he could even think to stop it, Balder had to watch as the small airboat skidded out of its harness, veered to the right – it was missing its starboard stannum jet – and crashed loudly into the wall. More swears from the old man.

“Let's finish up quickly here boys! We need to be movin'!” Even as he shouted it, Balder could see that his crew had made quick work of the unprepared sailors. “Right then, to the hallway!”

At the doctor's vague gesture towards her hand Cally glanced down, realised she was gripping her dagger and released it, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. She gave a slight grin at his comment on the pilot's skill; she had though Kai, the pilot on her father's ship, had been skilled, but the pilot here made him look like an amateur. In the relatively short amount of time she'd spent on the ship she'd developed a healthy respect for the crew - they were a tight-knit crew and all behaved like professionals - but it was probably Elara and the doctor she had the most respect for; they both seemed to be experts in their particular fields.

She absently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as he warned her to always be aware and prepared for the worst. She nodded as she took the supplies her gave her. "I'll remember." She promised.

Cally felt a tingling of excitement when he spoke of her following him, possibly even onto the enemy ship - she had thought she would be confined to somewhere belowdecks during the duration of the battle, but she fought to keep the excitement out of her voice as she simply answered "Yes, doctor." The last thing she wanted was for him to regard her as a child and send her away while the fight was taking place.

Upon the two ships nearly colliding and abruptly connecting at their decks, Vee struggled with his footing upon the sudden jerking, much to his dissatisfaction of looking incompetent. He regained his composure, but the action to follow was swift; dozens upon dozens of sailors rushed past Vylmor and Cally, including the esteemed Balder and his more competent crew of the bunch boarding. Vee knew to keep a particular eye on them, knowing full well how integral their part of the mission would be.

Vee held out a preemptive arm in Cally's direction, anticipating that she may have the urge to join in on the fray right away. He indicated for her to keep her eyes on the deck, hoping to perhaps instruct the girl in that patience and knowing were the most integral advantages to any battle. They maintained their birds eye view of the fray, and Vee was getting the impression that he'd need to keep an eye out for the old man in particular. He grunted loudly, moving forward against the rails of the deck, pulling from his coat one of the vials he has since packed and throwing it in Balder's direction, across the Aleph Null to his intended target.

"You could do with a bit more precision, yes!?"

Upon the contact of his now shattered vial and the hardwood floor beneath Balder, Vee acted on the break as if to time it perfectly; in one smooth movement, he lifted his arm as if conducting a symphony, and flung his arm forward in crescendo. The resulting aura rose from Balder's position, a kind of light blue mist, that seemed to permeate around Balder for only a moment, before vanishing seemingly within him. "That should take care of his limp, at least" Vee said aloud, half to himself and half for Cally to understand his focus.

He turned to direct his attention to the rest of the action on the enemy ship, and his heart sank upon seeing the pyurgist on board, his evident skill making quick work of Kimbull. He turned to Cally. "Learn from his mistake, my dear. This is why we don't jump in straight away."

He turned back to the pyurgist, feeling even more forelorn at the fact that he was not only a skilled fireater, but a smart one to boot, using his highly damaging flames to target the Aleph Null where it would hurt most: the sails. It seemed to be perfect timing that Rei had made her appearance on deck, seeming to head straight for the source of danger. This was good. Very good.

Vee yelled from across the deck. "Miss Rei! I need you to take care of our heated friend! I will have your back, so to speak!" He then turned to Cally again, but this time having a little more difficulty keeping his usual controlled disposition of confidence with the girl. "Now it seems we have no choice. Follow me, and don't look down!"

And with that, Vee followed in turn with Rei to leap onto the enemy ship... but stopped himself. He didn't follow his own advice, taking a moment to glance between the two ships decks... there were at least five feet between them, and at least five thousand feet between whatever other contact Vee would make if he didn't connect the former. He took a deep breath, backed himself up about ten feet, and sprinted across, making the leap... but he found himself clutching along the sides of the enemy deck!

Now on the verge of free fall, desperate for help on an enemy ship, completely exposed, the doctor was in a most unsound predicament...

Elara watched the scene unfold through the glass walls of the navigation room. She was eyeing the enemy ship critically, scrutinizing the freighter’s appearance and structure. It looked like a solid enough ship, she supposed, well maintained and orderly. Elara however preferred the Aleph Null in every way. She considered the Aleph Null to be hers, and hers was the truly great ship.

Her brow furrowed as she watched the crew board the freighter, a small frown showing her worry. Her place was here in the navigation room. A sailing master stays with the ship, of course. She had no great talent for fighting nor a particular desire to do so, but she disliked that she was unable to help the crew at the moment. Once they left the ship, they were no longer under her protection. While she understood completely that they did not in any way need her protection and were much better off than she ever could be in a fight, she couldn’t help but feel concern for the shipmates currently going against unknown enemies on another ship. Elara was simply to wait and wait until it was time to fly off with their new cargo.

She was pacing the navigation room when she felt the slight jolt. Immediately sensing something off with the ship, her gaze flew up in search, but the problem was rather obvious. Elara paled, eyes widening as she watched the sails of the ship, her ship, become engulfed by flames. The fire seemed to be coming from the enemy ship, but Elara was too busy being shocked to even think about where or who the flames may have been coming from. The young woman let out a string of low curses, dropping the map that had been in her hand. She raced out of the room as the forgotten piece of parchment fluttered to the floor.

Coming out onto the deck, she could see crew members running around, doing whatever it was the deckhands were supposed to be doing in this situation. Okay, she thought, standing still among all the commotion, the flames need to be put out. How the hell am I supposed to put the fucking flames out? She deliberated for a moment, before taking a breath and running towards the mast. Once she stood beneath the sails, she extended her hands, trying to feel the stannum around the flames. The first thing she did was try to create a barrier with the stannum, meant to stop any more fire from reaching the sails in the first place. That wasn’t too difficult, but it didn’t stop the sails from continuing to be on fire. Drawing on the caith’s energy, she then tried to manipulate the air away from the flames. Aeurgy and fire didn’t truly mix in the first place. It wasn’t as if she could just blow out the fire like one great big candle. Hell, if she wasn’t careful she’d probably cause the flames to spread even faster. Ventus sails were expensive and unfortunately flammable. Maybe if she could just stop the fire from getting the air it needed…

Elara winced, this kind of aeurgy was not the kind she normally did. It required a certain finesse that Elara had always lacked when manipulating stannum. “Gods dammit,” she snarled, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow. She gritted her teeth, keeping the barrier and trying to put out the fire was complicated and quickly becoming exhausting. With the ship not moving, and the calm weather she had been appreciating just a few hours ago, there wasn’t much stannum to draw on. It seemed that at most she was perhaps keeping the flames from spreading, or at least she was keeping them from spreading with the kind of speed they would normally have.

It took only another moment for Elara to realize her own stupidity. “Oh hell,” she muttered, reaching for the orange crystal that always hung from her neck. Some genius she was, forgetting to grab the thing in the first place.

With the crystal’s caith to draw on, it only took a bit more sweat and struggling to snuff out the last of the flames. Once the fire was gone, Elara had a strong desire to sit down. She really needed to be keeping up with the exercises she’d learned at the spellcrafter’s guild. She’d come to rely on simple, brute blasts of caith, instead of more complex manipulation, and it showed with the difficulty she’d just had with the damn fire. With a frustrated sigh, her grip on the crystal loosened slightly. She kept the barrier up as she moved away from the commotion on deck. She’d be damned if she was going to let the sails catch on fire again, even if that meant tiring herself out. Elara surveyed the the sails. The fire had certainly done some damage, she thought. The main topsail hung limply in tatters, and the uppermost part of the topmast looked somewhat charred, but fortunately the other sails didn’t appear to be obviously damaged. Still, they would need to repair it. Grady would probably not be overjoyed by that fact, Elara decided.

Cally bounced on her toes in excitement as the boarding party leapt across the gap to the other ship, the metal and crystal of their assorted weapons winking in the light. A hot thrill went through her veins and she felt a mad impulse to follow them, an impulse that was checked by the doctor holding up an arm to bar her way. Well, that and the disconcerting suspicion that if she dared disobey the captain's orders he would tan her backside like a parent disciplining a child, and the thought of that humiliation was enough to cool the fire in her blood slightly.

She watched with interest, understanding how as a healer the doctor was perhaps more helpful to the rest of the crew by staying behind, particularly when he threw a vial that was clearly some sort of healing magic at Balder. She couldn't supress a giggle at the doctor's dry comment about helping his limp, but that was followed by a gasp of horror as poor Kimball was suddenly set afire! The sight of a living man suddenly transformed into a pillar of flame was the most horrible thing she'd ever seen - for a moment she tasted bile in the back of her throat and was horribly afraid that she would vomit up her last meal right there on the deck; if the suspicion of the captain's punishment was enough to cool her heated blood, this was enough to turn it to ice in her veins.

That thought had barely crossed her mind when the doctor shouted out a comment to Rei and turned back to her: "Now it seems we have no choice. Follow me, and don't look down!" He ordered. So it was with the sour taste of fear in her mouth and the tightly wound courage of desperation rather than heated enthusiasm that she sprang towards the opposite ship.

The gap between them held no terrors for her - she'd jumped bigger distances that this when playing 'sky pirates' with her brother when she was eight (though admittedly, that had only been some four or five foot off the ground), and taken part in the crew's run around the rail of the ship which they did at the end of every trading season until her father had caught her and threatened them all with unspecified dire punishments. She made the jump and landed on the deck with almost a foot to spare, her eyes widening with horror when she saw the doctor hesitate and stumble, falling short.

"Mister Octavius!" She shouted. Sprinting across to the doctor, she braced one foot against a securely lashed barrel and grabbed his wrists, throwing the centre of her weight backwards and pushing against the barrel for more leverage - if she could help him heave his shoulders over the side, than the rest of him would follow. Possibly finding a rope of some sort she could've used to help haul him aboard would've been better, but she didn't dare take the time to find one. She wished bitterly that she could manipulate the air - a gust of wind to push the doctor up and over the side would've been most helpful now. She also sincerely hoped that Rei was dealing with the pyurgist - the skin on her back was crawling with the fear of becoming the fireater's next target.

Peeking his head over the rim of the barrel he'd crouched behind, Grady scouted the deck for the pyurgist. The man in the motley coat had his back to Grady, his attention of the Aleph Null and the havoc he was wreaking on its ventus sails. Wincing as though experiencing sympathetic pain for his expensive, expensive sails, Grady pondered the open expanse of deck between him and the pyurgist. He could make a dash for it - firearms were no good of course - and hope to get his trench knives within range before the fireater noticed him... ...remembering Kimbull's horrific death, Grady discarded the idea. He'd make a charge if he had to, but only if he knew someone else was working in tandem with him. Confronting a superior force from multiple angles they stood a chance, but a lone man's charge was simple suicide. The captain took another furtive look for any crew to coordinate with.

What the fuck is Cally doing!? he thought, seeing the girl poised at the freighter's railing as though about to hurl over it. Then he saw her lean back, hauling the doctor up over the railing like a fisherman's shittest catch. Another quick glance and he caught Van Williams' eye. Plans formulating even as he was moving, Grady bolted across the deck toward the doctor and the girl, while signalling for his first mate to join too.

"Glad you could join us," Grady huffed while sliding to a halt next to the pair, making sure to position himself behind a capstan for cover. "Alex - you and I are taking that gobshite down," he spat, gesturing to the pyurgist. "You circle around and wait for my charge, then come in from the side." As he spoke his hands were making subconscious signals from his days in the Sorrowars - [on me; flank left; pincer attack] "He gets me I want you to gut 'im."

"Doctor, juice us up. That fire hits either of us I expect to live to tell the fucking tale." He didn't know if the Doctor had anything ready-made to take care of such a request, but a genius Solurgist with a clutch of aidkits and 6 ounces of the purest aurum crystals had better be able to fucking improvise.

He turned to the girl, poking a finger at her chest. "Cally, the lads are getting fucking routed. Round 'em up and hold the line - you and the doc.. I need those boarding ramps clear by the time Balder joins us." He didn't know why he trusted her to be able to handle it - she was just the hanger-on from a promise he oughtn't to have made in the first place, but it took grit to leap across an airship gap with a fireater running amok, and he'd seen the girl practicing with her blade before.

Grady paused, squinting in confusion as he looked at the Aleph Null, its sails still more or less intact, the fires diminished if not outright extinguished. He scanned his own main deck, made out the form of his sailing master, clutching her stannum necklace and practically swaying from the exertion of putting out the fires. "Atta girl," he muttered. It was hard to put into words the feeling of seeing his crew rising to these challenges. As a young man, fresh out of officers' school and joining soldiers from all across Allevent in the trenches, he'd been petrified of battle despite his training. Over weeks of bloodshed he'd come to see war not as the glamorous adventures of his childhood imagination, but as nightmare made living. It wasn't for several months of pitched battle at the height of the Sorrowars that he finally came to see war as neither high adventure nor terrible tragedy - it was merely the crucible in which you forged your character anew, tempered to ever-greater hardness.

That was when he first started feeling the honest, indescribable satisfaction of leading his men and seeing them grow along with him in the forge-fires of war. On the other side of the world, nearly twenty years after his own desertion and disgrace, he was seeing it again with his crew aboard the Aleph Null.

"Right, let's move it," he growled, nodding at the three alongside him before turning to peak over the capstan. Seeing an opening, he darted to a new position, knowing Van Williams would do the same in the other direction, so they could attack the pyurgist in tandem. Hoping the doctor's solution was capable of resisting those terrible flames, Grady spun his trench knives about his hands into a reverse grip, and then charged at the man in motley.

Rei rapidly ran across the deck of the Aleph Null, before stopping near the edge. Looking at the other pyurgist, she felt it again. The sweet whispers, speaking to her, tempting her, willign her, to allow the beloved flames to run rampant. With that, she backed up a few steps, before leaping across, hitting the deck of the other ship with a roll.

As she stood up, she glanced at the other pyurgist with a smile, before slowly walking towards him. As she did so, the red sword in her hand seemed to waver, the ferrum core within the blade heating up the air surrounding it. Without further ado, she started running towards the man. Although still smiling, those who looked, would have noticed that, instead of the usual gentle expression, this one was filled with sheer bloodlust. It would not be hard to imagine someone with those eyes striking down her enemies without mercy, no matter how much her opponents begged for it.

However, the pyrugist had his attention on her captain, and sent a torrent of flame towards Grady. Seeing him engulfed in flames, Rei lost herself to the whispers of the ferrum caith. Using the ferrum core within her sword, she drew the flames away from her captain, before swirling around herself, the flames licking dangerously around her. Lifting her sword, the scarlet blade letting off heat waves, she charged at the other pyrugist.

Of course, the other pyrugist was not the type to rely only on the caith, as he drew a blade, and met Rei's clash head-on. In terms of strength, Rei was inferior. However, with her blade, clashing would put her opponent at a disadvantage.

Rei immediately swung again, her attacks showing nothing even remotely similar to a proper swordsmanship, as her blade reached out for the man time and time again. Despite lacking in form, it reined in brutality and unpredictability, as well as a strengthened offence, with the added bonus of damaging the man's blade with every clash.

However, she cared little for any injuries recieved, as she has already taken a cut across the thigh and arm. Without batting an eye even as the blade nearly pierced her torso, Rei swung again, the same smile, nearly hitting its mark, when the pyurgist jumped back, putting a small distance between himself and Rei.

"Come on! Is that it? You're nothing but a cowardly maggot who only fight against the weak? Fight me! Bleed for me! I'll make sure to cauterize your wounds, so don't die to quickly!" Coarse words in contrary to her usual behavior, but it seemed to have caused slight hesitation in the pyrugist. Was this girl even normal?

Without giving the man time to decide, Rei had already sent the flames towards him. This was merely a screen, as she charged into her own inferno, before slashing. Through the flickering flames, it could be seen that she had shifted the blade into a reverse grip, now simply stabbing her sword over and over again downwards.

Through a miraculous feat of strength, or perhaps through sheer willpower, Cally managed to pull Vee's torso onto the deck, enough so he may roll his sorry body the rest of the way onboard. He breathed erratically as he laid motionless for a moment on the deck, his face drenched in sweat, eyes wired, taking a brief shellshocked moment to thank the stars that he wasn't taking an express solo flight straight to the Frades Mountains below.

He rose hastily upon reaity seeping in, with Cally and himself on an enemy vessel, completely unguarded. Not even with a moment to speak his gratitude, he lunged forward in her direction, bringing her to the floor with him; he could hear the massive harpoon whirl behind him, where Cally was standing only a second before.

He leaped up to his feet quicker this time, the two close calls being sobering of the harrowing situation, and he brought the girl quickly back to her feet with a pull from his hand. He took a rare opportunity to breathe, thankful that the other sailors were too foolish to take notice of the two being sitting ducks.

Before Vee could properly assess the carnage, and get to work preventing another crewmate from facing an unneeded death or injury, he spotted Grady heading for him and Cally. He called over Van Williams, and before long the four had made a huddle behind some capstan.

Vee listened to the captain's plan intently, all while peeking over the capstan to eye their fiery target. Vee wasn't particularly fond of the idea at hand, as even with Vee's assistance, taking on a pyurgist's flames head on was no glide in the clouds, if not an outright death wish.

But he knew that this was certainly not the place to argue, and it was not his place to make orders; just to make certain that they went as smooth as they could. He gave a quick glance to Cally, then Van, then back to Grady, giving him a nod of approval for the plan at hand. As he gave his orders for Cally, Vee was handing him two particular vials, then the same for Van.

The two knew the procedure well enough, by now: take the doctor's crazy concoctions, and smash them to signal for Vee's spellcraft. In regards to such vials intended for others to use, Vee added an ingredient which released a piercing audible crack!, in addition to a puff of smoke of varying colors, depending on the vials intended use; in this case, the color was dark blue. This indicated a need for an elemental ward. Wards were a specialty of Vee's, as he took a much greater preference to preventing damage when possible as opposed to waste even more energy correcting mistakes.

Elemental auras were a light purple... but he decided against giving the two such a vial, as aura ingredients were far more difficult to come by and quite expensive. This was especially the case for elemental auras, but even physical auras were a uncommon commodity. Vee had only a handful of aura vials on the ship, and didn't intend to waste them unless absolutely necessary. This pyurgist was a handful himself, certainly... but not more than that. Vee was confident the two could handle the man together with each having two temporary "get-out-of-flames free" cards.

Grady charged into position, ready to make his first moves... until Rei flew in like a bottle rocket to take his position. She was quick to absorb the flames which the pyurgist had flung onto him, saving him from wasting one of his two vials. She was handling herself well... too well, as he watched her fling her blade into the unprepared pyurgist like it was a bludgeoning hammer... again, again, and again. Vee's heart sank upon seeing her all too familiar rage come through. "Oh my", Vee said aloud to the adjacent Cally, "This won't end well."

Vee took the precaution of directing Cally to stay in their safe hiding spot, knowing full well the enraged engineer would make quick work of both of them; or at least a quick work of many of Vee's vials, an expense he was not wishing to waste. Vee handed the girl four vials; a physical and elemental ward vial, and a physical and elemental aura vial. "Just in case we get seperated in the fray. Use the wards first, if you can, but don't hesitate to use the auras if you must."

With that, Vee rose and placed himself between the spaced positions of Williams and Grady. He called to both: "Quickly, you need to handle her before she loses it completely!" He signaled to them both to hold on to their vials, giving note that he would have his own vials in hand for the necessary steps at hand: to prevent everyone on this ship from becoming a part of a distant falling meteor to some unknowing villager on the ground.

The assault was brutal and quick, and the sailors stood no chance at all. As Marko chased one he had selected, the sailor made one last action before the dagger drove its way through his skull, a vicious twist ending the sailor's story with lethal efficiency. The alarm began ringing not a second later, and Marko had fortunately seen where the man had triggered the emergency system. As the chaotic scene continued, he quickly ripped off the station with a violent smash from the pommel of his dagger, exposing the wires that lay behind. This was a very basic system, though he was surprised to see a lumen-based system on the ship. Groundside, these were fairly uncommon, as the expense often did not justify the need. A half dozen guards could be paid for a year with the price of a full system in a landlord's villa.

Quickly yanking the wires from the station, he felt an unpleasant shock as he twisted the according wires together, restoring the continuity of the system and disabling the alarm. The ringing stopped less than a second later. This would almost certainly have alerted somebody, but at this point, he was certain it was irrelevant. He could hear the chaos going on topside even from down here, the screams of men both above and below deck, explosions from firearms sending shockwaves. These were the sounds he was accustomed to avoiding, as they almost always were followed by half the town's guard showing up. Here there was no fear of that, but the behavior of avoidance was well ingrained into his psyche.

The spooling of a stannum engine behind him turned his head. "What the hell?" He shouted, as an airboat came careening towards him like an angry demon. He dropped out of the way as it came just feet from him, smashing into the wall. Wood shattered with the impact, sending splinters hurtling towards him as the engine spooled down again. This was already turning into a clusterfuck of unimaginable proportions. If he managed to survive this, he'd really need to rework his plan of attack for future missions, because apparently stealth alone wasn't going to work airborne.

Leaping to his feet, he heard Balder call out, "Let's finish up quickly here, boys! We need to be movin'!" He didn't need to tell Marko that twice. The longer the stayed here, the more likely somebody else was going to show up and catch them off guard. Marko didn't want to die here. "Right then, to the hallway!" Balder shouted shortly after that, but Marko was already forming up at the door, the other men in hot pursuit.

Pulling out a small mirror, he kneeled down, look at it through the bottom corner of the door. Outside he could see several sailors rushing down the hallway, likely going topside. Whatever the captain had planned up there, it seemed to be working. These dark corridors were emptying out at an alarming rate. As the sailors disappeared up a flight of stairs, he waited until everyone was formed up to give a quick set of directions. "Listen up! We need to keep this quiet and fast. Follow me, and we'll make it out of here alive. No clanging, banging, or otherwise chaos. If a fellow bumps into you, snap his damn neck or slit his throat, but do it silently, and don't look for it." He looked down at the mirror again, and seeing his opening, motioned for the others to follow. "And by the Gods, do not step out into the middle of the corridor."

He breached out into the corridor, clearing to his right and rushing along the wall to the first door. Checking his mirror again, he duly noted some items of interest, but no sailors were to be found. "Clear," he whispered, gesturing to follow further. As he low jumped across the doorway, another directly ahead appeared in his peripheral. As he placed the mirror low, a sailor ran out with due haste, completely missing him in the darkness. Too close for comfort, but fortunately for the sailor, he went the other way, and would likely survive another couple minutes before the topside crew terminated his existence. No more sailors in there as far as he could see, and he continued up.

Down the hallway, similar cases appeared. About a dozen instances in total, sometimes they would quickly end the one or two that stumbled upon them, other times the dim corridors offered the best disguise. If there was one thing that was true about the undisciplined, it was their total lack of perception under stress. Tunnel vision was real, and throughout Marko's entire life, it had saved him over and over again. These men spent so much time focusing on getting topside that they forgot all about what was right in front of them, and it proved to be their demise.

He was already getting the feeling that his life was going to be rather bloody for the foreseeable future, a lot bloodier than the thief was used to. As he reached the end of the tunnel, his handy mirror noted something he very much did not want to see, and further proved his thoughts on the subject, only this time, they switched to his blood being used as decoration. "Fucking arbiters," he harshly whispered to the crew behind him as he pulled the mirror back slowly. What the hell are they doing on some uninteresting freight ship? Don't the have better things to do, like cut off thieves' hands or hang vagrants? Whatever the case, they were here, and those lethal bastards are going to be a handful. Not that Marko will feel bad about killing those murdering pricks, he's just never done that before.

"We have a problem," he said after a second, his poker face gone and turned into a look of worry. "Imperial Arbiters. Two of them. I'm afraid our blades won't be much help here, but that hammer of yours should work out good," he stated, pointing towards Lasrach's smasher. "Flexible mail isn't much use against blunt trauma."

He looked down at the mirror, looking for an in to shock them. Charging headlong would probably lead to a Pyrrhic victory for them. Their numbers would carry the day, but it would not be without casualties. He turned to Balder after seeing no obvious route of ingress. "Do you have any ideas? This isn't exactly my cup of tea."

It was probably the strength of sheer panic that enabled Cally to haul the doctor’s torso over the railing; after that, he scrambled over the rest of the way and she took a step back to regain her balance as he got to his feet. She opened her mouth to speak, and then the doctor lunged at her and she hit the deck with a painful ‘whoof’ of air from her lungs. She heard a harpoon tearing through the air overhead as she tried to catch her breath and tasted bile in the back of her throat once more.

The doctor helped her upright and then the captain joined them and quickly explained his plan. Cally was sure everyone heard her heart racing when he ordered her to ‘hold the line’ and she nodded with a hoarsely muttered “Yes, captain.” The wash of terror she’d felt earlier had provoked a desperate do-or-die courage.

She had felt a surge of relief when Rei suddenly appeared – she would deal with the pyurgist, and with him out of the way, they would be able to deal with the rest of the crew. That relief died when flames burst from Rei’s sword and she stabbed repeated at the other, screaming something as though she’d gone berserk.

“This won’t end well.” The doctor said, and her heart lurched – an out of control urgist was not someone that she, Cally, wanted to have to deal with, and certainly not after seeing what had happened to poor Kimball.

In any case she had her orders. Round ‘em up and hold the line. She took the vials the doctor gave her with a quick nod of thanks, tucking them securely in her belt where she could reach them if she needed them but still have her hands free before drawing her side-sword. The familiar braided leather hilt was almost comforting; chaos might be unfolding all around her, but she and her sword were partners - wield it with skill, and it would protect her, that was the arrangement they had. She got into a half-crouch, still protected from any outburst of flames by the capstan. Her eyes scanned the deck, plotting a route to the crew that would give her some slight cover from the flames at least part of the way.

Drawing a deep breath, she tensed and got ready to run.

It really was amazing, the way everything worked together on the ship. Even hewn and shorn to planks, when put back together each piece of wood still held the sliver of natures spirit to it and laid out again. A fact most don't know is that usually a tree brought to lumber is often put entirely to use in a ship, often leading to the same spirit being mostly whole if a bit rearranged. The planks were like vines interconnected with every nail acting like a knot to hold it together, he liked to imagine the slivers of iron like ants or termites on the vines as it pleased his view of the world.

Inside this great flying hive they strode, moving from corridor to passage through the very active anthill with only the spirits blessing of Marko they did not get caught. Finally the goal lay before them and of course they had to prove their worth. They had passed the test of cunning to get there, now would be the test of flesh and most likely behind the door the test of will. This testof flesh came in two well armed and armored guards... Too well armored.

Larach could feel it from the hallway, their suits sang like his hammer, infused with the amber ore. Oh the things he could learn from such magnificent works, he found himself struck with the pangs of greed and desire as much as he might ever have for a Faisseille Gygr if there were such a thing as the captain spoke of them. Clicking to the others for attention, he tapped his hands and nodded, he tapped his head and nodded, but then made a broad gesture to his torso and shook his head.

He hoped they understood the meaning and knew he had to get that army sign language from the captain as he strode down the middle of the hallway to the rooms only entrance. He said nothing to either one as he raised up his hammer like a wizard staff and slammed the pommel on the deck...but nothing happened. The judges grew wide grins as they drew their short swords, not Alumen damascus as he had first feared but surely lethal. As the two reached the middle of the room, all the wood began to groan as if the ship had taken a hard pitch but the floor was flat acteptfor a slight warping in the planks that seemed to be growing more pronounced.

Larack liked to think of the nails as ants, and now he was calling for the swarm. The rich vibrant Alumen was like a magnet, with a north and south pole. He just gave every piece of raw metal he could a south charge. If he was unlucky, his hammer was about to fly out of his hand and hit a guard like a barrel of bricks. If he was truly lucky and the power followed his vision, then a hundred slivers of iron were about to make a guards head look like a porcupine.

Balder could feel Vee's potion coursing through his body the entire way through the halls. For a moment, he couldn't feel the normal aches and pains that plagued his every movement. Feeling uncharacteristically lithe and nimble, the old man followed Latvanen's lead, powering through hall after room after hall with silent haste. Though the small group passed many times their number of enemy sailors, the thief brought them to their destination with no significant problems. Watching the young man lead them through hallways, periodically stopping to allow the group to pass undetected, Balder couldn't help but to be impressed with his steadfast determination, narrowing his focus to nothing but the goal ahead.

Once arrived at their destination, the first complication arose, and it was significant one indeed. “We have a problem,” the normally-confident thief whispered, an air of panic hanging under every word. “Imperial Arbiters. Two of them. I'm afraid our blades won't be much help here, but that hammer of yours should work out good.” As soon as he heard that they would be facing Arbiters, Balder cursed himself. Though his heavy, steel plançon à picot – perfect for a battle against chain mail with its steel head for bashing impact and its wide spikes, focusing the blunt trauma and virtually bypassing the armor. As it was, Balder had only brought a firearm and his cutlass with him. Luckily, his little protegé had, not only a weighty hammer, but also the ability to manipulate Alumen.

Watching Lasrach's sign language, Balder honestly had no idea what the damned horse was trying to say. At any rate, the experienced fighter knew that there weren't too many brilliant strategies that would help them in this fight. Dueling skilled fighters with close-quarters specialized weapons with armor only vulnerable to weapons that require larger spaces. The only chance of victory would be their fighting skill and a heavy slice of luck.

As they engaged the Arbiters, Balder could tell that Lasrach's manipulation was in progress. The planks all around them started to warp, and some of the nails all around them seemed to be vibrating. Knowing that he wouldn't wan't to be anywhere near the deor's targets when whatever he had planned struck, Balder shouted a command to his team, “Keep yer distance lads! Get clear for whatever Lasrach's cookin'!”

Throwing knives glinted in Cameron Brideson's hands as his brother, Christian, pulled out a wheel lock ferrum pistol. Still outside the hall, Jory leveled his freshly loaded crossbow. Taking his own advice, the master gunner cocked his flintlock ferrum rifle – definitely not ideal for small spaces, but hopefully to be useful for precise shooting if chaos broke out. The six man team squared off against the two Arbiters, and tension was thick in the air.

No, not tension. That was caith.

From his position behind the barrels, Alex could see the Doctor pulled up from the side of the ship. Well that was good, he'd likely need the doctor to save his life from this fireman. Fireman. What an Ironic name. Alex smiled to himself thinking about it, before snapping back to the here and now, being summoned to Grady.

Alex made the sprint and got to him, the plan was simple. Grady and Alex have a race to see who can be burned alive first, while the doctor watched. Alex nodded along, staying silent. He didn't have anything to add to it. He was anxious to put his knife in the man's chest.

Once they were ready, Alex got ready to move, when he saw Rei move past him. After a short fight, she managed to kill the other firemage. Not without taking some injuries herself, however. Alex had seen this before, she was losing herself. The easiest way to settle it was to let her burn herself out, but they could ill afford it several thousand feet in the air, fighting on a ship.

Alex ran over to Grady. "Alright, Grady, heres the plan. I'll take her down, you sit on her chest. Hold her mouth closed, and pinch her nose shut. Its the least lethal way to knock her out, and I don't think she can rage much when shes unconscious." Alex nodded to him, and leaped out of cover.

While he was moving, he surveyed the battle. It had mostly subsided while the fight was going on. The other ship's crew was likely collecting itself again, but had conceded most of the deck to the airpirates assault. Several of the men who had been on the assault, had recovered to the Aleph, to lick their wounds, and some were collecting other deck hands to make another foray. A few lay dead or wounded on the deck, and the last handful were helping move the wounded.

Alex spiked the ward aura that the doctor gave him on the ground. He was likely about to catch on fire. When he reached Rei, he put his arms under hers, and lifted, locking his hands behind her head, using his larger size and surprise to control her. He stomped a leg between hers, and moved it across her ankle, and fell backwards, yanking her down and pinning one leg to the ground. All she could freely move was one leg, as her arms were stretched up and behind her head. "Grady!" Alex yelled "Now please!"

Belowdecks, the two arbiters prepare to attack the infiltration team before Lasrach's geurgic assault catches them off guard. The floor, walls and ceiling squeal as nails are ripped from sturdy oaken boards, shooting towards the arbiters like a flechette cannon's payload. The first arbiter is struck about the face from half a dozen angles - his scream of surprise, pain and anger is as bestial as any Deor's as he drops his sword and falls to his knees, clutching his bleeding face between the protruding nails. The second arbiter, able to throw his arm over his face in time, is protected from the attack by his alumail sleeve. Without a look for his wounded fellow judge the arbiter launches into attack at the nearest foe, the hulking Equine warrior. Two-handed longhammer thrust against the ground like a wizard's staff, Lasrach may not find himself in position to attack as the arbiter closes in, using his short sword to great effect with quick cuts and thrusts meant to keep him within the deor's guard, and shielded from the other assailant's ranged weapons. Even with five men against him the arbiter is neither looking to flee nor surrender, but will take as many down with him as possible. The first arbiter, a rictus of pain on his ruined, blood-drenched face, is still able to see through one good eye as he stands and joins the fray.

If bested, the two arbiters will have been the final obstacle in the infiltration team's path. The strongbox door looks to be of solid oak reinforced with metal bands, and features two keyholes aligned vertically a foot apart, requiring a key from the Bdelygmia's captain and first mate to be turned concurrently in order to open, or locks picked in tandem.

Inside the room, a simple cubic vault perhaps 6' to a dimension, are several plain chests bolted shut with common padlocks, as well as a small, ornately-carved lacquered box of rosewood, its lid closed with a simple button latch. A small brass key with a red ribbon is inserted into the side of the box. At the beginning of the mission, Grady had relayed to the crew the client's specifications: the box was to be retrieved and returned to the client unopened, and the reward was the remaining contents of the strongbox. In the chests are:

ʒ1,000
( ♃ ) +10
( ☉ ) +10
( ⊕ ) +10
( ♂ ) +10
[Extinguisher] schematics
[Alumen Well] schematics
5 x [Aidkit]
2 x [Ferrum Core]
3 x [Grenade]
1 x [Lighter]


On the main deck, the captain and first mate work to subdue their manic master wright before her incipient caith madness completely overtakes her, while the rest of the Aleph Null's boarding party regroups and rallies together; the heavy freighter's remaining fighters losing morale after the unexpected death of their pyurgist. Soon the ship yields, sailors throwing down weapons and begging mercy. Of the twenty-odd men who boarded the freighter's main deck eight have died, five of them due to the pyurgist's terrible flames. Others are wounded but will soon be seen to by the ship's doctor.





"Woof!" Grady exhaled, standing to his feet and brushing himself off. He looked down at his master wright, marveling at how such a tiny slip of a girl could turn into such a whirlwind of rage and destruction so readily. He knew little about urgists and caith madness but he'd never known any urgist to be as sensitive to its effects as his little redhead. He'd never seen Elara suffer from the violent shakes that aerugists endure, or Lasrach's body tense up as though turning to stone itself. But give Shinrei a whiff of ferrum and she lost all composure. He wondered if it was biological or mental in nature - could she be trained to control herself better, or was caith tolerance as much a part of her as her height or eye color?

"Keep watch over her till she gets back on her feet. See to the rest of it, and I want all officers in the wardroom as soon as possible." he said to Van Williams, walking away. After a mission he always assessed successes and failures in the wardroom, using his officers' for feedback as needed. Van Williams, Rennway, Kisaki, Goldenwood and Octavius were a part of every such meeting, but he'd also expect Lasrach and Latvanen to join. Reaching into his trenchers coat Grady removed his last two ferrum cores, loading them into his pepperbox pistols - the familiar movement helped clear his head, which allowed him to remember his injury as the pain slowly reached the front of his senses. He frowned, looking down at his right arm, at the slash in his coat, at the rivulet of dried blood running down the side of his hand and little finger. Not wanting to waste an aidkit or bother Octavius for something minor, Grady began to head back to the Aleph Null, where he could dress his wounds in his cabin. Across the boarding ramps he met up with Errol, one of Balder's men and acting in charge of the sailors left behind in reserve.

"Get your boys over there, meet up with Van Williams," he said in passing. He knew his first mate would coordinate the rest of the mission - teaming up with the infiltration team if needed, securing worthwhile cargo, getting the injured back on board and seeing to the dead, etc. Next mission Grady would stay behind and have Van Williams run it front-to-back. Errol nodded and began issuing orders with that harsh rasp of his, the result of a punched throat from before the doctor'd come on board.

"Good job with the sails, Ms. Rennway," Grady said as he found his sailing master on the deck of the ship still. He leaned his weight against the foremast with his good arm, looking up at the once-shimmery white ventus sails, seeing where they were burnt black and smoldering. "Get them taken down and stored in the hold. When we get back to Havenstad get them repaired. Give Big Chowder the estimate and he'll see you paid." The Quartermaster, Francis Chaudhry or simply "Big Chowder," was in charge of all of the ship's supplies and coin. Luckily for Grady the man was as smart as he was fat, and honest to boot.

In his cabin Grady gingerly stripped of his trenchers coat, wincing at the motion required of his arm. He shrugged the braces off his wide shoulders, leaving them dangling at his legs as he pulled his shirt over his head with a groan. His right arm was slashed laterally at the bicep, long but not especially deep. The wound was bleeding again, and he cleaned it in his sink basin, awkwardly wielding a jug of water in one hand as he poured it down his arm. After drying and wrapping a bandage around his arm, he dressed again.

Later in the wardroom Grady was seated at the table, puffing away at the same dried cigar as before, enjoying it none the better, waiting for his officers to arrive.

Elara heaved a sigh as she saw Grady return to the Aleph Null, finally letting the barrier she’d been holding drop, releasing the crystal around her neck as she did so. If the captain was back, it meant that things had gone well enough that there was no longer a need to protect the sails. Thank the gods, she thought wryly. Even with the help of the stannum infused in her crystal, it was rather tiring to hold a barrier up for so long, especially over so large an area, but she’d have been damned if she was going to let the blasted things catch on fire again.

As Grady approached her, she nodded her head in greeting, moving back to lean against one of the barrels on deck. “Captain,” she said.

When he praised her, Elara simply smiled, a bit too weary at the moment to give a reply, though she would normally have been quite surprised he wasn’t snapping at her in his usual manner. Perhaps we’re all a bit tired, she thought. She listened to his instructions before straightening once more, dusting off a bit of fallen ash from her shoulders. She could rest later. There was still work to be done and a ship to fly after all, though she guessed they wouldn’t be moving for some time yet.

“Right away, Captain,” she said in reply. She turned her head to watch Grady walk away for a moment before glancing back up at the sails. Elara raised her brows, trying to estimate the costs of repairs. It likely would not be cheap, she decided. Not if they wanted it done properly, at least.

She snagged the nearest deckhand and instructed them to have a few of the men remove the main topsail; it was nothing more than burnt rags now, and would need to be completely replaced. The topmast was looking a bit burnt as well. She’d need to remember to have it looked at when they returned to Havenstad.

Elara supervised the sailors as they took down the remains of the topsail, calculating the adjustments she’d need to make to their flight to compensate for its lack in her head. As soon as the sail was properly stored she turned on her heel and went to find Big Chowder, the tail of her dark coat flapping slightly as she went. The ship’s quartermaster was not difficult to find, and she soon had warned the large man of the coming costs. She told him bluntly that she would not be skimping on the repairs and listened, unimpressed, as he grumbled at her about expenses and the like.

By the time she had everything settled, the sailing master was informed that she was to report to the warroom for the usual meeting that followed every such mission. Elara went more quickly than usual, eager to hear how things had gone on the other ship, and what it was exactly that they had been doing on said ship in the first place. She’d been wondering just what it was they were supposed to be getting since she was first told of the job. Elara had refrained from asking questions before, knowing that it would be explained when the captain felt it necessary, but all the same, she couldn’t help but be curious.

It appeared that she was the first of the officers to arrive at the warroom. The only sound in the room was the clacking of her heels against the floor as she moved to her usual seat at the large table. She shrugged off the heavy material of her coat as she sat, leaning back in her seat to relax with a light sigh.

“So,” she said conversationally, a small smile gracing her lips. “Things go alright on your end?” The smile dropped away as she added: “and what the hell was with all the fire?” Elara figured she’d get the full story as soon as the others arrived, and she was very interested in what they would have to say.

The Deor was surprised that worked as well as it did, he actually felt a bit sick from the sight of the guard who clutched as his bleeding face and the draw the magic took on him. However, it would seem that the other guard would capitalize upon this moment of nausea to plant his gladius into Larach's side like a fresh boquet of flowers. The brigadine armor did its job to guide the tip away, but the perfect nature of the weapon simply let the steel plates guide it somewhere else to sink to the hilt.

Run through, the Gyurgist lost his cherub-like demeanor as he let out a hellish cry through ruined vocal chords and choked up to the head of the mallet. He grabbed the warriors hand holding the sword who had a firm investment on the equine insides and brought the fifty pound head down upon the warriors skull. Even with the free arm to block, the sheer frantic driven strength of the blacksmith simply plowed the alumen armored sleeve into the judges head as well.

With one guard on the floor, the other had time to recover and draw his weapon as well. Larach, having just had a close encounter of the pointy kind, did not want a matched set of scars so swung with his hammer in a wide swing that had the guard easily parry, but not the follow up free hand not holding the sword in place. It was a simple push that had the guarding take a step back and bang his head against the wall. Nothing serious at all, unless you already had a nail back there.

The iron was driven home and the two guards fell now. Most likely they were maimed and not murdered but they were surely defeated.

Dropping to his knees, Larach kept the blade in his side as he tried to remove the alumail with diminishing strength. He removed the empty backpack for the others of the crew to load up before he carried it back to the ship. While sitting there, the Equine had time to ponder how they would get back on the boat if they jumped off the railing to get there in the first place.