The portly officer looks absolutely confused. He wrings his hands nervously, not sure of what to do. "Ah, umm. Ma'am, I uh.. Under who's authority, ah, ma'am? I though you, umm, were just here to, uh, to relieve my crew? I'm not sure I understand what you're asking here, uh, ma'am. I'm under strict orders to not abandon this post. Ah, ma'am".

Shiaran turns to Sypher feigning a question.  Sypher shrugs.  "You are welcome to stay and help, but Elm has a 'special' cargo coming through and we are tasked with seeing it on board.  If you really want to hang around for that, we could use the assistance with communications and especially the handling."  She implies with her tone that it's not something the officer really wants to be here for, but also that she doesn't care if he stays for it.  "It's some kind of deader captive coming in for research."

{Diplomacy = 19}

The portly officer listens intently to Shiaran, visibly wincing at just hearing the name "Elm". When she gets to the part about special cargo and a "deader", he visibly turns a shade lighter. "Well then ma'am, ah, hehe.. why uh, why didn't you say so. You're the senior ranking officer and I'lljustbeonmyway..". his voice trails off as he's already walking to the service elevator, clearly wanting no part in whatever black ops ordeal is supposedly going to happen on his pad. He pauses only long enough to render the proper respects to Shiaran and Sypher. He does not salute though, as is protocol for times of war. "Ah, good evening, ma'am, and sir. I'll be in my bunk if anyone comes looking for me". And with that, he steps onboard the elevator and descends into the dimly lit scaffolding below.

Garyl muses "Wow Miss Shiaran. If I didn't know any better, you've done this sort of thing before".

Shiaran winks at him then turns to Clarke.  "Alright, Clarke.  You're up."

Clarke walks over to the command console, and begins twisting nobs and flipping lever. "I believe I recall the training on this equipment". The machine hums to life as he picks up a mouthpiece. "Uh.. ON-REP station one to Luninaire, ON-REP station one to Luminaire. Ground side situation is green. Packages are secure and standing by".

There is a brief pause before static crackles over the console and a hollow voice emanates from the other side. "Ground station, this is Luminaire. Hard copy on pickup. ETA fifteen minutes to tow cable. Stand by".

Clarke sits the mouthpiece back down. "That went well. I guess now we wait. Garyl, we'll need to turn on the locator lights".

Garly starts off around the perimeter of the platform, flipping switches and activating the lighting system.

"If you all have any unfinished business, we have fifteen minutes. After that it's go time, and we have some heavy lifting to do, so to speak".

Whatever reservations Clarke had before the mission began seems to have subsided. It's clear that he's neck deep into the thick of things now with the rest of the group.

Beloc and R.E.B.O.R.T. approach the new loading crew after the old is sufficiently out of sight. "Great job getting rid of that crew. Anything we can help with to prep the boarding procedure?"

"No sir. Looks like the logistics are done. All we have to do is hook the tow cable to the cargo netting when they drop the wench. From there, on the last two or so loads, we hitch a ride. We'll need someone to confirm to the ship the last load is hooked, but I plan to claim site is compromised and have them emergency break away to keep things smooth. It can help explain our hitching a ride, but that all depends too on who is on the loading detail ship side. I'll be counting on our lovely lieutenant here for the fast talking".
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:38, Sun 16 Dec 2018.

During the last few minutes of waiting for the Luminaire's approach, R.E.B.O.R.T. holds up a small, ironclad glass device. Half a dozen thin metal strips run from the top of the glass sphere to the bottom. The makeshift exoskeleton supports three atomizers that protrude from the upper hemisphere as well as a small plunger at its apex.

"The device is ready. Depress the small plunger at the top to activate, then throw at the target. You will need enough force to break the glass in order for the stasis liquid to disperse properly through the atomizers."

With the next few moments feeling like days passing rather than minutes, and console crackles and the hollow voice returns. "Luminaire to loading dock. On final approach. Wench drop in 2 min".

Overhead a heavy, reverberating mechanical sounds can be heard as the ship descends to around 500 feet in altitude. Barely a silhouette can be seen, save for the absence of stars above, though those with better than human vision can make out the underside and keel of the massive warship as it hovers. No light sources are pointed upwards, in an effort to further conceal the battleship. The wench is lowered and the work begins.

It's a simple enough procedure, with Clarke manning the comms and calling for more slack or to raise the load. Each bundle of crates takes around 5 minutes from the time its hooked until the wench is dropped again. Eight loads go up, with a final load left to transport. "Alright, this is it. Final load. Get it hooked up and find a good grip for your hands and feet, this one will raise fast. I'll make the call for emergency break away once everyone is on board and hurry over to join you".
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:38, Sun 16 Dec 2018.

Sypher looks at the net securing the load and is reminded of the last time he was so far in the air climbing ropes.  It did not go so well then.  At least this time he is not climbing, just holding on.  He takes a deep breath and secures his grip tight ensuring he doesn't fall this time.

Shiaran grabs a hold without much thought to the process.  Her mind is on the next step.  She makes it look easy and leaves her brother wondering if such courage is from calculation of variables or confidence in her body and skills.

Leukos circles one last time then flies off toward the castle proper to stay hidden until needed.

R.E.B.O.R.T. pockets the cryo device and secures both his feet and hands to the netting.  He looks upwards, patiently awaiting their ascent.

Beloc kneels down at gives Apache a few pats on the head. "You need to stay down here and keep an eye on the others. Make sure they stay out of trouble."

Apache trots off in the opposite direction, he turns back to look at Beloc, ears perked up. Beloc nods. "Obad-Hai be with you."

He plants his feet in a couple holes within the net and grabs on tight.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:02, Thu 29 Nov 2018.

With the team in place, Clarke nods. In a panicked voice he hails the Luminaire. "Ground to Luminaire, ground to Luminaire! Position compromised, initiate emergency break away".

With little hesitation the operator on the other side responds. "Understood. Emergency break away. Godspeed down there".

Just barely audible, an alarm above from the ship can be heard. bong, bong, bong, bong repeats over and over. The slack in the cable pulls taut and the last cargo net covered crate begins the lift rapidly. Clarke sprints across the base of the platform, making a running leap for the bottom of the netting. He cries out from underneath, something apparently wrong. "Help! he yells.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:39, Sun 16 Dec 2018.

Shiaran scrambles down the outside of the cargo net to see what is wrong.

{Climb take 10 + 9 = 19}

Clarke dangles haphazardly, one hand barely gripping the bottom of the netting as the upward force of being rapidly lifted cancels out his attempts to gain an additional hand hold. He cries for help again upon seeing Shiaran. The platform down below is fading away fast, with more than a hundred foot drop now and the distance getting further.

The moment Shiaran sees Clarke, she utters "Sýllipsi" in the arcane language.  As the spell takes effect, she calls out. "You should be able to grab hold and climb up."  She continues to maneuver around to help him get a good hold.  With the spell, he doesn't have to fight gravity nearly as much.

As the spell washes over Clarke, he eyes grow wide. For a few seconds, he flops back and forth like a rag doll as he adjusts to being near weightless while rapidly ascending. He reaches over, clapping a free hand with Shiaran and gaining a solid hold. His terror turns to nervous laughter when it finally settles in with him that he isn't going to plummet to his death. "Never had a spell put on me before ma'am. I gotta say, it's something else"

The upward momentum has gained a telltale list southward as the warship travels in reverse northbound to take it's place back above the keep. Far below on the ground level, light sources are scarce, and for good reason. At the forward end of the city's Southside, just inside the walls are a series of large search lights combing the skies for aerial intruders. Far outside of the wall, a sea of orange fires both from the day's distruction and the invading army glow for miles.

The cargo crate finally gets up to the loading bay of the Luminaire. The smell of thick diesel smoke and machinery wafts around, as thick black tendrils of exhaust trails by. A long boom arm with a crane wench hauls up the last bit of slack, swinging inward through the open bay door to the cargo loading dock.

The compartment is lit by red light. At least 10 Royal Navy sailors are present.. and pointing rifles directly as the group. One of them yells "Hold!" to the others before a shot can be fired. He calls out to Sypher and the rest "You clear?! Any deaders?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:39, Sun 16 Dec 2018.

"All clear on the cargo.  No deaders aboard."  Sypher says truthfully.

Shiaran hops down and looks for the highest ranking man among those present.  "Our men on the ground were pushing them back, but we could not risk the cargo, the ship, or the castle."  She looks back at the loading sight disappearing behind.  "They are capable enough and the infiltration force was small.  I suspect the site will be clear in the morning come inspection.  To be sure, my men would appreciate any reinforcements, but they also understand how limited such resources are. They don't expect any."

{Diplomacy take 10 + 9 = 19}

A swarthy older sailor steps through the group. His head is bald, and a large and thick white mustache all but hides his mouth. He looks back at the group. "Everyone out" he says, turning back to the party. "Except for you. I have questions".

Several "Aye, Chief Kimble"s ring out from the group as they leave the loading compartment.

He looks the group up and down first before speaking. "You almost had me young lady" he remarks to Shiaran. "But anyone who knows anything on the ground side would know we don't do reinforcements from up here. Not on this boat at least. From the looks of you, I'm guessing you aren't exactly the enemy. But you don't smell right either. So what's really going on? You one of those spook teams or something? Black-ops? Stuff they'd hang me by my toenails for knowin?".

Beloc releases the death grip he has on the cargo net and plants his feet firmly on the deck. The color returning to his fingers give the only hint to the relived trauma of the groups' suicide mission that started their adventure. He steels his resolve and takes in his surroundings.

R.E.B.O.R.T. hops down to the deck effortlessly and moves over to stand beside Sypher.  His movements are fluid and nonaggressive.

Shiaran looks straight in the man's eyes and with all the seriousness and deadly implication she can muster simply says, "Yes."

Sypher comes to stand next to her, silent and stoic with his arms relaxed, thumbs hooked on his belt.