Such bloody engagements

[foxsays]

WHO: Araceli Bonaventura, Korrin Ataash, Tyrion Lannister, Zevran Arainai
WHAT: We're going to need a bigger boat (we're going to actually need boats plural)
WHEN: Drakonis, 9:48
WHERE: Waking Sea to Orzammarish
NOTES: ooc plot post; language, threats of physical violence and torture

Routine. It was all meant to be routine. Qunari dreadnoughts to outrun had become routine at some point in the last few years same as being absent a left hand and answering to Leandra in public instead of Araceli but when the Inquisition asked something of her, she would still answer. Leviathan for all that she'd given it a seemingly grandiose name was a moderately sized ship suited for speed more than anything else, getting supplies and people where they needed to be and getting the hell away from anything that could take them out.

(If Thedas had cannons but they would be in Qunari hands, in Venatori hands, and the nightmares Araceli had had at first before she'd tucked those away had nearly woken her screaming every night.)

Transporting someone for a diplomatic mission - she'd laughed to Korrin about it, hadn't she? Bitter in a way her namesake would have wept over, what diplomacy is left - but sailing. People hauling the sails, running around the deck. A rifter diplomat so she'd had to pay everyone coming along double to shut their mouths, then had to up a few rations to keep them sweet but this is what you do in a time of war.

She assumes.

"Captain, might want to take a look at this!"

Comments

[gatheringstorm]

What Tyrion doesn't know, Korrin at least does to some degree and as Araceli makes that promise, she plans to help fulfill it. The urge to sail away from Thedas forever as they talked about is still strong, but that's hardly a completed plan. Besides, she couldn't live with herself if they didn't at least try to help their allies. They can do this one thing for them. Her gaze lingers on Araceli for a moment before she nods to Tyrion.

"Alchemy sounds just fine to me; I still have plenty of ingredients, since I use a shit-ton of grenades against the Qunari. Not just Antivan fire but pitch or confusion work wonders, too. If you need them, they're yours."

It's how Korrin's spent what little downtime she has had, making grenades and losing herself in the dull, repetitive task so she doesn't have to think about the shitshow that is Thedas these days. At least all that productivity has seen use, and can be put to some again.

[tallasaking]

"Oh no - we're going to make them think their ship has caught on fire." Tyrion states with a completely straight face, as he goes to toss his notes into the fire. "Perhaps with a touch of knock-out powder, so we can snag one of our fine sailor friends."

He looked over at Korrin, looking thoughtful, "If you don't mind me butchering some of your grenades for bits and pieces, that should do nicely. Can we get close enough to the ship that something might be tossed on the side without them knowing it?"

[foxsays]

"A moment." Calling for one of the crew, an older man with a scar that curves up from his jawline and along to what's left of his ear, Araceli tosses the spyglass to him and nods to the crow's nest. "Tell me the closest ship you think we can come alongside," she instructs.

"We have hooks and ropes from the smuggling jobs to get us over, it's about picking the right mark. Someone who knows enough to be useful, not so much that they'd be missed." Risk analysis as ever since she fears reprisals far more than she would have before when the Inquisition had power, when it felt like they were winning, gaining ground.

The sailor returns, spyglass passed back to Araceli but he addresses the three of them. "There's a galeas following behind the closest galleons, supply boat for them would be my guess. Sitting low, Tevinter colours but colours only, not a dragon in sight on her."

"Gracias, be ready for full sail on my word." Galleons means they'll need to be damned quiet about everything but Tevinter mages don't have Qunari gaatlok so that's something in their favour at the very least. "How long do you need to get the supplies ready? Sirena, if I get us close enough and the target is on the deck, could you make a throw?"

[gatheringstorm]

Nodding, Korrin smirks. "I've always had one hell of a throwing arm, and it's gotten nothing but practice these past few years. I'd bet my life on it now, as I always do." If she can't throw the grenade where it needs to go, it can't be done. But she's not about to start focusing on the risks and consequences; they need to do something, now, and as far as she can see this is the one with the best outcome for all that matter.

Looking over to Tyrion, she nods. "Go for it, I'll show you where I've stowed them. All things considered, it shouldn't take that long between us." And a good thing, too. The thought of messing with the vints always gets her blood pumping.

[tallasaking]

Tyrion nods, as he turns to follow Korrin to her supplies, running through the ingredients he was going to need. Something for smoke, something that choked, and yes, something that would put the Vints to sleep - if only temporarily. He tapped his fingers against his leg, before he asked, "Do we have hot tar ready? We'll need to stick it to the side of the ship."

[foxsays]

With a ship picked out, Araceli nods to them both. "Go get everything then, I'll get us to where we need to be. I cannot go aboard, not with a ship to steer." Not with only one hand because she'll forget, she'll think she's in Antiva like she was before, or on the way to Dairsmuid, or worst of all aboard her father's ship and then they'll be done for.

"I have pitch." Whistling through her teeth gets the attention of the crew. "Señor Lannister requires pitch, fetch it for him, por favor. They will see to it for you, do not burn my ship or we will be swimming to shore with all of them ready to harpoon us."