Icarus tried to take deep breaths as he forced himself to avert his eyes from his feet. He wasn't normally afraid of heights, but then, he wasn't normally dangling over a thousand leagues above the great beyond. Suddenly, he felt almost as if he were falling and he gasped. It took him a moment to realize that he was actually rising; being drawn upward into the cargo hold of the ship. He glanced upward as he swayed slightly, feeling  both nauseous and full of adrenaline at the same time. It wasn't long before the ropes had been drawn in almost completely, and as he reached the edge of the hatch he scrambled over it as soon as it reached his mid-hip. Rolling over onto the smooth wooden floor, he caught his breath for a moment as he looked around. The cargo hold seemed massive to him, and it was compared to most other airships he'd been on. It was full of basic goods like canned and barreled foods, but he also noticed an array of unmarked casks and many tools lining the walls.<br/><br/>He leaned against the winch that had been responsible for pulling him up and sighed heavily, "Very well... what now?" He glanced around a little more, trying to collect his thoughts. There had to have been enough food on board to keep a hundred men alive for over a month, so starving to death before he landed wasn't going to be an issue. he remembered then the way that the ship had taken off and the angry hollering... had the ship indeed been hijacked? He shook his head as he kicked himself inwardly for being so foolhardy, "Well, Icarus, old boy, you've made your bed, now sleep in it," He mumbled as he did a quick check of himself. he very much wanted a proper weapon, but his compression pistol was in his pack... the one he'd left on the ground, he remembered sourly. He had his heirloom hammer, a solid steel and brass tool that doubled as a well balanced and handy weapon if need be. He slid it out from under his coat and lifted it with his left hand. If nothing else, he was a fast thinker, and he figured that if the ship had really been hijacked, there would be at least a team of a dozen or so armed, trained men on board. Running the ship with anything less would undoubtedly...<br/><br/>He lost his balance suddenly as he clutched the hammer and heard the most gods awful noise grinding in his ear, "Holy hells, who's flying?!" he asked angrily over the noise as he stumbled forward toward the ladder. If he were going to die, he at least wanted to meet his demise on deck and face the hijackers, or at least ask them if he could take proper care of the engine while they flew to gods knew where. It would be foolish of them to kill him, he told himself, since he could preform most maintenance tasks by himself if need be. The ship's movement smoothed after a moment as he grabbed the first rung and began climbing carefully, "Let's see what we've gotten ourselves into..."