Celaeno sails straight up past the cargo door, above deck, and through the air for a few moments, crumpling onto the floor a few feet away while her sword clatters off to the side. Drinking in your crowd’s cheers, you give a few bows before rubbing your trusty uppercutting hand for a job well done. Then you leap straight up and out of the cargo bay, following the same trajectory she did. Stars and tweety birds danced around her head for a beat before your hand came down and grabbed her by the neck of her coat, lifting her back up to eye level.