Chance is the only game I play with, baby

[foxsays]

WHO: Araceli Bonaventura, Korrin Ataash, Anders, Fenris, Schrödinger's Teren
WHAT: The wooing of Capitán Gloriana Valdez by the Inquisition
WHEN: While everyone's adrift
WHERE: Llomerryn
NOTES: ooc post + full plot details

Gathering everyone together is the first bit of the easiest step of the plan. Settling them all at a table marginally more difficult considering who the company are (a Warden, two mages, a warrior, a rogue, not everyone best suited to liking one another but needs must) with less friendly, more curious eyes than Kirkwall on them as Araceli makes sure to keep herself between Korrin and Anders at the table when she comes back with drinks.

"Each captain is master - or aims to be - of their own destiny and of their ship but like everything it's about who you influence; is it your ship, is it a few ships, a small fleet, or is your word law?" Araceli leans close over her rum (watered, insultingly watered because she's a stranger and she hasn't earned the rights to the good stuff no matter how like them she looks without the hand or what she knows of a ship) with a smile as if she's telling a great story. That's what friends do in taverns. The people at the next table go back to their cards and Llomerryn Red. "I know the woman: Capitán Gloriana Valdez. A woman of reputation, three ships to her name, ties to the Felicissima Armada.

"Now," she pauses to take a drink, "what I'm proposing is that we go to her local - the Maker's Mark, what a name for a tavern, here of all places, "we need to woo her. So drink up, if you don't know the way we can all go, we look suitably roguish or fearsome or interesting to get in the door, some of us have faces befitting of reputation, no?" As plans go, it's a nice simple plan. Locate captain, woo captain, rewards. But she expects questions because you know, fearsome pirate captain, how does one woo a pirate captain, has anyone else heard tale of this dreaded woman and so on but it's a start at least.

(If anyone says what can go wrong she might try to sell you for kraken bait.)

Comments

[foxsays]

A snap of her fingers and another one of the drinkers, the magnificently moustachioed man, and he stops though he looks damned relieved to have a reason to put his mug down too, finding the sort of papers usually reserved for recording bets and taking up a quill to scratch down notes. She leans over to him, instructs him sotto voce and in Antivan to write all of this down, every damned word of it, the tattooed person leaning over to read as well, correct as needed.

"Blessed Andraste," she says, her eyes dark and staring deep down into her cup as if the contents will give her all the answers but there's no mercy to be found in what she throws back. "Yet they drink it? We have some Templars here but you know, Rivain was always a bit different from the rules and war breaks hearts, to the void with all of this. How much of it is there for this army of them we hear of when the ships make port? The Chantry she has her stranglehold on the lyrium, no? Only the dwarves mine it. Dwarves," she refills, drinks, slams down her mug now she's gotten her second wind and feels it hot and languid in her bones (the beauty of rum without proof, lit aflame from the inside out in the best way) as she fixes Korrin with a sharp look despite how drunk she should be, "are not, as a rule, stupid people. Smarter at making bargains than most, in a good position to sit and argue with you until everyone is as blue as the Boeric ocean."

[gatheringstorm]

The man with the magnificent moustache gets a nod of respect, for holding out that long. Understanding Antivan just fine, Korrin is pleased that her news has their attention. They'll want to verify that, of course, but she's not concerned, knowing there's abundant evidence from many sources.

Throwing back when the captain does, Korrin's eyes water and she feel her throat aching for something that isn't setting it ablaze. But she reminds herself that she's had maraas-lok and remained standing while others succumbed. If this isn't its equal, its damn close. She can keep going. "Yeah, they drink it. Too much, too fast will accelerate their corruption, but the end result is always the same. The lyrium normal Templars take will fuck them up in decades; this shit doesn't wait around that long. And dwarves aren't needed to mine the red, so it's a lot more accessible. The Red Templars have kidnapped people just to mine it...and mined their corpses for more, later."

Her gaze grows dark, remembering Emprise du Lion and the horror they found in the mines. That's why she can't bring herself to have pity or mercy for any of them, why she'll happily see them all destroyed. "There's a shit-ton of it; everywhere the Inquisition has traveled in the South, those damn red spikes are sure to exist somewhere. It's as parasitic in the ground as it is in a person. The Red Templars aren't running out of red anytime soon, and the Chantry is rudderless. Without their leadership, the rest squabble and think the world will wait for them while they get their shit together. It can't. The red will destroy the people ingesting it, but not immediately and in the time they have, they will cause untold destruction. They already have one hell of a head-start...and I think you can imagine the power of men who give no fucks about anything but making the world burn for their master."

[foxsays]

With only Korrin and Gloriana drinking now the mood changes though this isn't a spectator sport the way the gambling is or someone getting their arse handed to them. But as another drink is poured, it's still catching the attention of people since finishing a bottle of Andraste's Mercy between the two of them isn't something that happens often.

Sweeping her hair from her face with a muttered curse, she almost mutters blessed are the peacekeepers but laughs low in her throat. "How do I know none of you aren't just as cursed as them? Krilling- Killing krakens? Bloody business." Not one word when she trips over hers but she doesn't refill her tankard right away if she's got as many words to say as she thinks she does. "Some thought you brought coin to Llomerryn, instead you bring more ill news than the high tide after negotiations does the dead."

From her coat she produces an ornate fan taken as a trophy once in her youth, fans herself lazily. "No man like that has come to these waters, we hear many things. All sorts about your sorts, the Divine and what happened to her. Thirsty Templars," she traces her finger round the rim if the tankard but still she doesn't fill hers up, "and nothing in them to go breaking their vows."

[gatheringstorm]

"The ill news would've reached you sooner or later, with or without us. They're always looking to spread their influence, it's just that they got to the South first. That doesn't mean the north is safe." Without the Inquisition's investigation, it might have done so when the red was more widespread. A true disaster that makes Korrin's blood temporarily run cold, despite the growing intensity of the heat under her skin.

"I don't expect you to take us only at our word. Claims like mine require proof, don't they? We can give that. You want to see what red lyrium does to a body, we can show you. It's not subtle. If any of us were infected by the red, it'd already be too late. But we've encountered the stuff before, and we know how to limit exposure. We can pass that on, too. Hell, if that's the only thing you take away from this, it still won't be a wasted trip." Her voice is starting to sound a bit raw from the potent drink, but her sheer stubbornness keeps her upright for now. She doesn't have a fancy fan, but it'll have to do instead. (Until it doesn't.)

[foxsays]

"Your kin or kith would be the things that come first, I've seen dreadnoughts," ah, the chill down the spine at the word but who can sail such crossings and seas as these without catching sight of them? "They haven't come here but Kont-aar? Sitting there in Rivain when the Chantry didn't lift a finger about it. Maybe it would for Antiva. It would for anywhere else." Probably Tevinter it'd do something for if it looked like the right moment for the Chantry to sweep in, cleanse both in one fell swoop but Kont-aar is a wound that never heals, that opens easily. How many of them know someone who ran from Kont-aar? Too many, too many it goes. "I want to know how it got in the damned water, kraken are many things, miners or gardeners? Not those."

Does she know? Has it spread? Ascendant captain, a trio of ships, strong ties to the Felicissima Armada, her own reputation nothing short of fearsome but rumour is rumour and it races ahead of a person; she can only keep so many mouths shut tight. "We aren't friends, not yet, we're two women having drinks," she says in response to all of that but it-- it sits there. Her eyes straight ahead as they would be when heading into battle, on a raid, into the storm.

Gloriana manages half her drink. Swallows down the retch (the sights she's seen in her time at sea, of course she can swallow back the drinks crawling up her throat) but the fan pauses in front of her face to help disguise it. The last half will go unfinished. If Korrin can finish her own last drink, she'll win and the captain will have to give it to the woman for not just holding her own here tonight.

[gatheringstorm]

They're not her kin, Korrin wants to say, but that's rather derailing the point. She nods grimly at the captain's assessment of the Qunari, as it seems an accurate enough one to her. "Between the Breach and all the resulting rifts, I'm a little surprised they haven't used it as an excuse to invade already. Then again, they've always been skittish as hell about magic. Maybe they want to see if we'll clean up the mess first, but if we wait too long...." Well, they won't wait forever. And when they do, Korrin's sure they'll bring those dreadnoughts.

"My understanding is that the source of it all was a shipment of red lyrium bound for Antiva. It went off course during a storm, got shipwrecked, and the filth spread along the sea floor. The Inquisition demolished what was found at the shipwreck, but getting to what's below the waves is another matter entirely. We don't know how far or fast it will spread." But from Korrin's tone, it's fair to say she wouldn't be surprised if red lyrium tainted sea creatures ended up appearing further and further south. "And this was just an accident, imagine what could happen if the ocean was actively used as a dumping ground."

It makes her want to find some Red Templars to destroy all over again, but since there aren't any, she stares at her drink as though in a battle of wills with it as much as the captain. This is a terrible idea, she knows she'll regret it later -hell, she's partly regretting it now- but in the end, Korrin make up her mind. "We don't have to go and make friendship bracelets, just be people mutually invested in survival. I enjoy living with my mind and body intact, and from what I can tell, you seem to be of the same bent. That's what it comes down to in the end, survival. Everything else is window dressing." And with that, she forces herself to chug that last drink as though her life depends on it.

final fantasy victory theme

[foxsays]

"Qunari have three heads to argue with, Seheron, Tevinter, Kont-aar. They'll have eyes and ears for when they think the time's right." That's what the Qunari do and the longer it takes everyone to pick a new Divine, the more confident they might grow. Wasn't Kirkwall a lesson? How long did it take for sailing there to be comfortable before they were profitable once again?

"Antiva?" The thought horrifies the captain, that much is plain. For all that Antiva is the shrieking of the Princes, the stench of the tanneries, the Crows everywhere you look once you know how to spot them, it's Antiva. To think of the corruption sitting there. Recovering herself (and wishing she might manage more drink but she'd lose it now, splatter it across the table and the floor like a green girl) her mouth thins to a severe line. "Hard to mine from the ocean floor, even those beasts would need to breathe, and it might not take. Go far enough and watch even the bravest ships founder when the sea takes a mind for it.

"But...I wouldn't see any of mine turned to crystal or stone, going mad from more than the usual," she concedes, some of the reluctance feigned for the sake of appearances. "There's a wisdom in what you say but I need to think on it, play a few cards of Diamond back while you go soak up all of that with something else. Bread of Many Tongues, if you've managed to outdrink me? You'll need it."

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin can understand the need for appearances, so she nods even as that moment is immediately regretted thanks to her head feeling increasingly weighty. She'd better down that hangover cure with her drinking sooner than later, though there are doubts even that will take it away completely. So she manages a wry smile while standing slowly enough that lightheadedness doesn't send her to the floor.

"I don't doubt it, that's some potent stuff. Thanks for the meeting, captain." Now to see how the others have fared.