How Many Idiots Does it Take to Steal an Airship…

The continent Aireel rested in a realm of endless sky. Torn from the Plane of Esseria when the world fractured millennia ago, countless generations have been born, lived, and died knowing only the few floating islands that make up their world. The governance of these people, having fallen to the Monarchy of Kazzal, lived for ages in prosperity and development, despite their limitations. Though the sun has come to set on this age of plenty, as in recent years, the corrupt King Fizz Kazzal has taken control of the throne after the sudden demise of his ailing father.

The new King Kazzal’s rule is firm, cruel, and greedy. And though there were still those alive who remembered the days of plenty before the fall, they did nothing to stop this new king’s rise to power. Now, even though not everyone agrees with his tyrannical rule, rebellion is impossible, as his grip is nonetheless ironclad. This is in no small part thanks to his powerful policing force, Enforcement Agency 9, who rule the skies, ensuring the continued safety of the crown and his noble sycophants. But rumours have spread that the corrupt King’s control runs deeper and that may even have his ten fingers dipped into the tempting pots of criminal syndicates and dark magic guilds alike.

But none of this mattered to Finley Bucketts, because she was a goblin, generally invisible to the greater nation of Aireel and its people. Not only because of her green skin, pointed ears and single snaggled fang, but also because she was small. No more than three feet in height, people rarely took time out of their day to look down on her. This was why she was going to do something that no one thought possible for small folk like her. Something that wouldn’t change the course of history, nor even inspire generations to come. It was an act of defiance for her alone that, if done right, may turn a head or two.

Today, Finley Bucketts was going to steal an airship. And she was going to do it by herself.

“Alright.” She muttered to herself as she casually strolled through the crowded thoroughfare. “Which to steal? Which to steal?”

Wandering in front of a small, clinker-built cog outfitted with a single-sailed mast and a handful of the crew wandering the deck, she scoffed.

“Too small!” She remarked from the base of the gangplank, drawing brief, confused glances from the crew at the commotion. “And that’s cominziz from me.”

Finley continued forward, dodging the footsteps of unobservant dockworkers before stopping alongside a massive galleon. Crossing her arms, she looked up at the multiple masts and the flowing white flag atop the highest of the four. She eyed the crimson, two-headed eagle, the new national flag designed for the Enforcer warships meant to wrest control of the skies from the numerous pirates that prowled smaller floating islands.

“Hmph.” She scoffed once more, arms crossed as she squinted at the vessel. “Well, someonez compensatinziz. Too big!”

With a huff, she moved on from the main dock and towards the smaller side docks. These were the less influential shipping companies and private vessels run by people with money, often docked. And while they still functioned like any other ship, they by no means were the fastest or strongest of the vessels present. Fortunately for the crews and captains of those higher-end vessels, none of the ships had met the requirements of Finley’s discerning eye. But then, as she had begun to give up on these side docks, she finally saw it.

“Perfectziz!” The goblin cried out as she marched her way up the gangplank. “You’re minez now!”

The ship she had chosen was an aerial carrack, a three-masted sailing ship that was smaller than the galleon yet larger than the cog. Glancing at the wooden hull along the side of the vessel, it was clear that it was made of mixed lumber, seemingly repaired numerous times by different hands. Though odd in appearance, even a novice aerial ace knew enough to tell that the carvel-built frame was aerodynamically superior to numerous other vessels the goblin had passed on. But Finley Bucketts was not an aerial ace by any means.

What caught Finley’s eye was the fact that there was no flag atop the mast, meaning it wasn’t government-owned, and that the name plastered on the side of the vessel was the Phlying Phyllis, which she thought would be funny to change to the Phyling Phallus. And as such, the ship would be hers.

Stepping from the gangplank to the deck, Finley inhaled deeply before glancing around the space. She had done it, commandeered a ship with no blood spilled.

“My nameziz-iz Finley Bucketts!” She shouted loudly and proudly with her arms on her hips. “And I’m stealing this ship!”

The goblin was met with silence, even from the numerous dockworkers milling about beside the vessel. No one appeared to care what the minuscule green girl had to say as they continued with their days. So, with a smirk and a pleased nod, she marched her way up the stairs to the ship’s helm.

This was when things began to go wrong.

Standing already at the helm was a boy, or at least Finley thought. He stood not much taller than her, a generous inch or two, with another two on top of that thanks to his fiery red hair. The lad fiddled with the helm, exploring the few arcane crystals that acted as pedals which the captain used to control the ship's speed and angles.

“Hey!” Finley bellowed at the child. “What’re youz doing on my shipziz-iz?!”

That was when the boy turned around, revealing piercing blue eyes and an equally fiery red beard. Held in his lips was a pipe that glowed from the bowl before a cloud of pungent smoke emerged. The boy was not a boy at all, but instead a very hairy groundling man.

“Your ship?” He grumbled before pointing a finger her way. “You must be confused. This is my ship now. I’m stealing this ship!”

“No, you ain’t!” She replied, pointing a finger back at him. “My nameziz-iz Finley Bucketts and I’m stealinziz this ship!”

“Wait,” The man lowered his hand. “I thought you said this was your ship?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I already stolziz it. I saidz so!”

“That’s not how it works. I’m already here. I’m stealing this ship.”

“Look,” Finley marched towards the massive wheel that at its peak was twice her height. “I’ll show you itziz mine.”

Leaning in, the goblin licked the grimy wood and smacked her lips.

“See, I licked it. Mineziz now!”

“That is definitely not how this works!” The groundling replied, taking a draw of his pipe before pointing at the crystals that made up the helm. “Do you even know how to pilot this thing, goblin?”

Finley rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms.

“Yeah, of course! You turnziz the wheel! Duh!”

The groundling gripped his face, exhaling a cloud of smoke with his heavy breath. Glancing a piercing gaze at the goblin, he gently nibbled on the pipe’s bit. With a snap of his fingers, he pointed to her.

“I’ll tell you what.” He spoke calmly, confidence lacing his words as a stern look formed on his face. “It seems the dear Captain of his vessel has disconnected the engine from the helm. First one to get it functioning is the new Captain. Deal?”

“Sureziz. But itziz going to suck when you realize that I’mziz the Captain of this Phallus.”

“Doubtful!”

With a gust of warm magical wind, the groundling launched himself from the ship's quarterdeck before Finley could react. Hitting the deck with a tumble, the man began to run towards the stairs that would take him down into the ship's bowels. He glanced behind him, expecting to see the goblin left gobsmacked atop the quarterdeck, but what he saw was quite the opposite.

Already hot on his heels, Finley Bucketts was charging after him. Her mouth was open, tongue flapping wildly in his breezy escape and leaving a trail of drool behind as she gave chase.

“Get back here, yuh’cheat!” She screamed, keeping pace with him as he descended two flights of stairs and raced to the sternmost room.

As they arrived at the final door that separated them from the magical engine room, they both froze, realizing that the space was already occupied. Hunched over the small magical engine, which was nothing more than a single rectangular box with a yellow crystal affixed to the top, was a third small figure.

“Hey!” Finley yelled out. “Whoziz are youz?!”

The furry tail that snuck out the back of the third figure’s trousers shot up to a point, quickly curling into a question mark.

“Who am I?!” The nasally squeak of a voice replied as he turned to face the other two.

The same height as Finley, or maybe an inch shorter, was a feline boy with diluted tri-coloured calico fur. His left ear had a small notch in it that he wore as proudly as the goggles over his eyes. With an overly confident smirk, he placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. Staring down the goblin and groundling, he sniffed a single breath that he followed with a chuckle.

“Heh!” He continued. “The name’s Nimble Paws! And I’m stealing this ship!”

“No, youziz not!” Finley cried out. “I’m Finley Bucketts, and I’ve already stolenziz this ship!”

“No.” The groundling added. “I’m in the process of stealing this ship.”

“No!” Nimble joined in once more. “I’m—”

And, at that moment, there was a gentle whine of wood giving way under heavy foot as a fourth figure appeared behind them all. Towering over six feet tall, a man cloaked in a black cape stood, sabre drawn and hate in his deadly gaze.

“What have we here?” He spoke, his voice low and sinister. “It seems pirates have gotten aboard my ship. No matter. You shall cut you down like the rats you are.”

The three stared in disbelief at the tall figure who prevented their escape. They held their collective breath until finally a soft voice spoke from the rear of the group.

“Guys,” Nimble whispered. “I think that’s the actual Captain.”