Sebastian shivered under his wool longcoat, tugging at the lapel to try and shut out the gusts of wind that always seemed to meander about the tops of the skydock. His eyes narrowed, but it was too dark to use his farsight goggles, he'd have to find his next employer the old fashioned way. Tugging at his gloves, which were more suited to be an accessory during a research proposal than keep his hands warm properly in the cold, he dipped into a narrow alleyway, ducking and dodging and diving under, around, and over the whistling copper pipes pocking the walls. His bag, made of worn leather and stained with a dozen chemicals named and unnamed, swung in his wake, threatening to hook itself on any of the copper protrusions as he tried to carry on, but he knew the clock was ticking--if he couldn't get aboard before it departed, he was right back on the streets again.

The young man skidded to a halt in the street ahead, the overhead light reflecting conspicuously off of the gadgets he carried as he craned his neck around to get his bearings. [i]Third dock, registered as the [/i]Glory, he reminded himself, though the ship's credentials were forged, dashing off with the [i]click clack[/i] of his hard leather boots announcing his presence to anyone on the cobblestone streets this night. He wondered if he should have dressed more appropriately for stowing away, but decided it too late to matter. Rushing towards a heavy chain link fence, he looked left and right for any onlookers and, seeing none, reached into his bag to withdraw what appeared to an oversized pair of scissors, reinforced heavily, housed in a brass box with a line of vacuum tubes crowning the device. He tugged at a pull cord and grimaced as the thing crackled to life, tubes sparking to life as electricity arced between them briefly. The blades of the Arkencutter slowly lurched to life, opening and closing with increasing rapidity as Sebastian held them up to the fence. A few seconds and a few chomps from the machine later, and he was running full speed for the galleon as it bobbed in the open air.

The plank had been pulled, [i]Of course it had...[/i] he muttered, tucking his little tool back into his back and tightening the strap to hold it tightly against his lithe form. Scanning the ship for obvious points of entry, he spotted a lucky break, an open porthole. Taking a deep breath and begging for some higher power to bless his aim, he took a running start and leaped, arms steepled over his head, eyes shut tightly and dove through the brass dormer, sprawling onto the interior deck inside with a loud crash, his dusty hat (and goggles) skittering across the floor as he came to a stop in the light of a gas lantern. He rubbed his elbow as he grumbled his way to a sitting position, just as he realized he was completely surrounded by the crew...