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    1. November 10 yrs ago

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That'd certainly be interesting! Unfortunately, he didn't quite expect it to turn into the mess it did having no prior experience in such tight quarters.

It does give me an idea, though. Maybe have Marko lure them out, leaving the others in the shadows behind the door. Unless they plan on standing right there like statues, that'd bring them close enough for Lasrach and Balder to make them into meatpies.
Sneaky post is kinda sneaky. I couldn't actually think of anything sneaky to deal with those arbiters given the description besides 'find a way to the wall next to them and quickly smash it down' which is surprising, but still not sneaky.

PS: Sorry about the 14 hour late post. I was having connection issues last night.
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."
I'll be getting a post up sometime later tonight or tomorrow. Work got pretty crazy with the summer rush, so weekday posting might be a little more infrequent, but weekend posts will be up quickly.
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!"
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.
The dual-wheel idea would probably work the best, I think. Rotate them a bit like trim on an aircraft, but with pitch and yaw being the only two directions of travel.
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."
<Snipped quote by November>

...why am I imagining two people building something that appears to be a mess of wires and metal parts, with Grady standing behind them shaking his head while face palming :3?


"I swear Cap'n, it has a purpose! Don't know what it is yet, but it has one!"


<Snipped quote by November>

Buuuh!
I'm already doing that (T^T)!
The tinkering part I meant >.<!


I think they have different reasons and roles entirely, so it should be a fun little experiment :3
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