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.

[i]"Let the fun begin."[/i]