[CLOSED] every storm we ride is its own reward

[katabasis]

WHO: Everyone on the Galicia and Walrus
WHAT: Adventure on the high seas
WHEN: The escape from Minrathous
WHERE: The Ocean
NOTES: Violence cw all but guaranteed; directed top levels are there to make life easy but feel free to make your own stuff. Don't write too much about the Archon's fate until it gets hashed out (here probably)

Comments

the galicia

[katabasis]

[Minrathous rapidly falls away in the Galicia's wake, but that doesn't mean anyone's security is guaranteed. The Inquisition's members and their very special guest won't be able to stow away for long - especially not with a Venatori warship nipping at their heels.]

A Meeting - Vane, Flint, Silver and Araceli

[sclavus]

[ the four of the assemble in the captain's quarters of the Walrus, short Max as she's currently unaccounted for. It would've been nice to arrange this meeting on a less dire time table, but best they're familiar with at least who they're working with for this mission than not.

As they all settle in, Vane, being the only one having spoken with Araceli extensively to his knowledge, pushes up from the wall he'd been leaning against and motions towards Araceli. ]

Araceli Bonaventura, leader of the Naval Presence project.

[ then, towards the others. ]

Captain Flint, of the Walrus, and his quarter master, John Silver.

[ there. Introductions. Now talk pretty at each other or whatever this meeting is for. Feel free to ignore Vane, he'll be chilling quietly over here unless he's asked a question, or comes up with a comment. ]

[foxsays]

[A passing moment or so of commiseration of 'this is going well, isn't it' with Silver doesn't count, and she'd had plans for it to have been better. Or more controlled. Fewer tempers as Araceli makes sure she knows where the door is, which is thieves habit more than anything else; know how to get in and out of the room, especially when anyone in it or likely to be around is going to be bigger than you.]

I imagine all of us would have wanted this under, at the very least, less tense circumstances. [Said with a glance Flint's way because other people were dealing with that and she wasn't about to go throwing oil on the fire.] We've a lack of actual practiced sailors in Naval Presence, and one or two might have a surfeit of honour amongst them.

[A Templar who didn't want to gamble would hardly have been her choice to join had she the choice but she doesn't so here she is. Honestly the arrival of pirates has been a very good thing after all this time, a fucking relief.]

We need ships. We need able sailors. I don't want to have to entirely rely upon the Lady Vivas and what she's pledged when there are other options that needn't involve Merchant Princes. But I know only a little of you, and I don't know what you know of me so I will go first if there are questions.

[Because she has no idea what Charles has said about her leading up to this, and it's not her ship so she'll do AMA round one if required.]

the walrus

[katabasis]

[It's a long journey north to rendezvous with the ship spiriting members of the Inquisition away from the chaos of Tevinter's capital city. Good thing everyone's friends here.]

for flint.

[elegiaque]

( there is ever work to be done, but like the initial rescue still so much of it is hurry up and wait. they couldn't simply set off half-cocked on impulse when the news came from tevinter, and setting out still means a journey that takes time. for as much as has to be done, there's time enough to themselves. more, possibly, than they actually want.

gwenaëlle fills some of it in flint's company; holding the sword the way coupe has (with the patience of andraste herself) taught her to do, striving to do it better. the techniques she knows yet are templar-taught, the mistakes her own and prone to setting her jaw, trying again, not waiting for someone else's dissatisfaction to exhibit her own. she understands being bad at something before she's good at it, understands that the people teaching her have had years to her months, but—

she's a quick study. she tries to be quicker. the time stretching between here and the rendezvous is an illusion, when ultimately they haven't the luxury. )

I was at the Winter Palace when that all kicked off, you know, the end of that civil war before this new and more exciting war Orlais is currently engaged in,

( conversationally, following the edge of her blade. she's learned not to hold back, comfortably confident that in a fair training match she is not going to accidentally do flint damage and that in an unfair one with the element of surprise he'd still have better odds, so she doesn't try not to hurt him. )

Under a table. I had to take off half my dress to fit.

( how times have changed. )

[katabasis]

[He parries. The sounds from the clashing blades carries over the Walrus's stern and disappears into the ship's prodigious wake. The sea might not be running, but the vessel is and her faint artificial heeling to windward at the encouragement of the elemental magic helping to fill her sails draws a long line of disturbed surf behind them.]

I can only assume that improved your reputation.

[They know now they're likely sailing into a fight. News of the Galicia's tail had come two days ago, prompting evening conversations at the stern rail to transition into--] You're still leaving your elbow behind. You'll just lose your momentum that way. [He turns her next blow off the false edge of his own blade, follows through with a would-be vicious thrust that terminates before he can do her any real damage.

He pauses.]

It certainly sounds like a unique opportunity to get to know every ankle of note in Orlais.

[The line of his arm resets.]

Tessa | open!

[zombra]

She's never been on a ship like this before. In fact, she's pretty sure she's only seen ships like the ones in Thedas that one time she took a class trip to New York City and they had one on display in the harbor. So needless to say, she's pretty lost on how it all works beyond sails propel it and there must be a rudder or something to steer it. She thinks back to the little boats on the Allegheny River and swimming in that gross water, trying to keep her head above so she wouldn't swallow any. This is a way bigger deal, with way more at stake. All she can hope for is to do her part and not be -- what's the phrase -- an albatross around their necks.

Crossing her arms on the ledge of the deck (whatever it's called), she looks down at the spray of water below. This is her life now. From getting chased by zombies to heading out on a ship out of Treasure Island to rescue their people. Weird.

"Are we in an ocean or a sea? And how do you tell when you've left one sea and are in another?" She's looked at the map. There are a bunch around northern Tevinter and Seheron.

charles vane | ota

[sclavus]

[ with flint acting as captain on the Walrus, and Silver as his Quartermaster, Vane's essentially taken the place of boatswain, the officer among the crew to supervisor activities on the ship (setting sails, weighing anchor, etc) and the status of the ship itself directly. it isn't one he minds, and the crew respects him plenty well enough to follow orders he gives to the letter. after so much time spent chained to the island in preparation for the Tevinter fleet to descend, he's glad to have so much hands on time, in truth.

as such, if you're one of those working the ship itself, you've likely had to follow directions he gives you, and if there's arguments, so help him, you'll be prep cook for the rest of the voyage. but if you're willing to do your part and learn anything you don't already know, you'll be on good terms with him. most of the voyage is fairly calm, only adjusting when the wind shifts, or dies down too far so they have Aro give them another elemental magic boost, at which point he'll be echoing what commands Flint calls to them. ]

Shift aft the back stays! Brace up, five degrees! [ They'll have the lines pulled tight and Charles will be there with the rest of the crew to hold the rigging tight as the mast creaks with the force put into the sails (with or without shirt, you decide nurr hurr hurr ur welcome libby). The Walrus has held together through a lot, and while that could mean more wear on her, she's yet to let them down. 'That's well', he'll echo once they've found the set on the sails that's needed, tying down the lines. if you're new to sailing and you just managed a complicated maneuver, it'll be followed by Vane dropping a hand on your shoulder as he walks by, with - ] Well done. Take a break, we're done for now.

[ At other times, he can be found clearing up the deck, or clamoring up in the rigging to check that all's well there, nothing's coming loose with the strain they're putting on the masts. occasionally, he might just stay up there, watching the waters and the horizon, just because it's peaceful. if you're brave enough, come join him.

at night, you'll find him relaxed against one of the masts, watching the other sailors get up to some shenanigans or another, drinking from a bottle of something alcoholic, maybe listing to someone play music. pirates like music, okay? by this point, he'll be as relaxed and approachable as you're likely to ever find him, so take advantage. ]

{ at night }

[zombra]

[ Tessa hasn't wanted to draw too much attention to herself -- landlubber that she is -- but on a night where there's music playing and everybody's being pretty chill, she decides to come see this guy who seems like one of the top dogs here. ]

You know, back where I'm from, in the old days they'd say a woman on board a ship brought bad luck. Since you haven't drowned us yet, I'm guessing the same doesn't apply here.

silver | ota.

[hornswoggle]

[ This whole situation is messy. As Flint had predicted when the delegation had first set out to Minrathous, the men are less than pleased. Their consternation can be managed, and that's somewhat easier to do now that whatever attempts towards an alliance has blown up spectacularly. (Or that's the picture John is painting, until he hears otherwise.) And there is some relief at being on the water again. It calms the restlessness of the crew, and soothes John's own unease, that had lingered when he'd found himself at loose ends in Kirkwall. By no means is this a light-hearted event, but there's some pleasure in having a very clear objective.

He spends most of his time on deck during the trip. When he isn't in Flint's company, or circulating among the Walrus crew, he'll be settled at the side of main deck, fairly approachable by anyone who cares to speak with him. Some nights, he can be overheard telling what appear to be fantastic pirate stories to a cluster of Walrus men. How true any of these stories are is anyone's guess, but feel free to try to get an answer on that out of John. Any conversation is welcome as far as he's concerned, so until shit hits the fan this is your big moment to get some face time with him. ]

[zombra]

[ Tessa knows better than to call out a pirate on his bullshit in front of others, but only because she's not one of them and she doesn't want to walk the plank. It's after a round of his tall tales when the group has broken up and he's alone that she comes and has a seat nearby, giving him a lopsided smile. ]

So those stories have any truth to them at all? Like 80% bullshit instead of the full 100%? In any case, you're a good storyteller, dude.

[staysail]

[Darras' relief at being out on the open sea has been liberally tempered by being on a ship that is not his. The familiar and the foreign make a bitter drink, but one that he's gladly downed, if only to be out of Kirkwall.

The work is familiar, at least. Bit below his level these days, but he's got a temper even enough that he can settle himself to it, as long as it's mindless. It's work alongside veritable strangers, but what's a sailor that's not used to strangers. What's a pirate that's not used to blending in with a new crew until dynamics have been sorted.

It's a funny sort of loneliness that sets in when work is done, so Darras is quick to find where stories are being told. That's his favorite entertainment, and he hitches himself to the group listening to Silver without bothering to ask. Two or three tales in, as drink is circulating the cluster and conversation has picked up again, Darras leans over to Silver.]

Know any of the giant squids that come up out of the depths to eat men whole? We've got 'em on the Amaranthine, but my authority on the subject's been recently challenged. Could be you'll settle a bet for me.

[Not that Yseult is any likelier to believe Silver. The challenge remains.]

araceli ota

[foxsays]

day;
[Last time on a ship the ship was very much listing and scarred, an exciting trip to an uncharted island that went to shit then crawling into Llomerryn, Araceli amazed that they made it the state they'd been in. This is--

(Previous experience with the Venatori is not something to be discussed beyond a thing that happened, the worrying of her left thumb, her irritation with arguments they shouldn't have to be having.)

Work is better, so where someone is unopposed to having a smallish stranger that's where she is for much of it, someone who very much does know her business on a ship with only questions about The Walrus specifically to be asked. Also happy to generally be as high up as she can because Kirkwall not exactly noted for a bounty of nosebleed vantage points, toes curled to keep her there in the rigging.]

night;
[Night and Araceli is out on the deck because she can't sleep, too restless and uneasy for it. Keeping out of the way more than in the day where she'd been inclined to lend a hand.

The dice with her aren't for gambling if it's going on but she'd rather do something with her hands. Or blades to be sharpened. A troubling amount maybe that suggests if you had to shake her (why would you shake her?) that knives would make up half the weight of her.

But she might gamble, will definitely chat, and there's very much a flask of good rum out of her office because whoever is looking after that is probably going to drink the room dry and she wouldn't blame them really so y'know it's cold at sea at night, have at it.]

the rendezvous

[katabasis]

[It's fully night as the three ships converge with violent results. Though a contingent of boarders mean to make their way to the Venatori ship and take her before she can wreak havok on the Galicia presently at her mercy, sharp eyes must make out the closing Walrus's sails in the darkness before the Antivan trader can slip away.

Ship battles, sinking trade ships, and elemental magic - oh my! Try not to put too many holes in the Venatori ship.]

flint | ota

[katabasis]

[There is only so much luck in the world. It has persisted through the Walrus's journey, has kept the Galicia out of the Venatori's jaws for the time it has taken for their paths to converge, and it has determined the hour for this rendezvous be in the very dead of night. He could wish for a thousand additional favors, but can't begrudge what they've made away with this far. They've been fortunate. Maybe that's why the rapidly thinning cloud coverage in this, the last moments of their approach as they close like a wolf on the glow of the hove to ships ahead of them, feels like such a betrayal.

Every light on the Walrus has been doused in its entirety. She has crossed so much open ocean in secret. But as the moonlight finally penetrates the atmosphere, it pours down the full breadth of her sails to illuminate every stitch of her canvas. Mere ship lengths from their prey, the Walrus reveals itself as a spirit out of the darkness. Flint whistles. It's a signal that carries: 'Ready the ballistas.'

Not a moment later, a cry goes up on the Ventaori warship. A flare of red hot fire follows, bursting in a dazzling ball high above what little sea room remains between them. It affords a flash of illumination that terminates in a shower of dying embers. The light marks their positions clearly. That much at least can still be satisfying, even if it seems the boarding party hasn't quite had the opportunity to finish their work. They've at least come up the warship's stern as intended.]

Open fire!

[There's an unholy ka-SHUNK as the bolts leave their tracks. They tear through the air with a hideous, thrilling shrieking metal noise. One must find its target in the dark. It strikes, driving as a jagged knife through the warship's cabin with a shriek and explosion of wood and beautiful pane glass.

Chaos ensues on the Venatori warship. A gout of lighting launches in some seemingly indescriminate direction, likely in response to the some boarder from the Galicia. A column of fire licks out at the merchant vessel and a second flash of fire soars toward the Walrus.]

Man that cable! [Flint shouts from the quarterdeck, and the lucky ballista's trailing tow line is run to a capstan, secured there, and begins to be wound. Klack, klack, klack.] Reload! I want two more lines in that ship. Vanguard, to the rail! [To a harried looking Walrus man a few paces away:] Head up if you please, Mister De Groot.

[Nevermind the madness; it's a shockingly well oiled machine. The ballista are reloaded, fired again. As the Walrus heads up into the wind, it drags the warship with it - turning it's broadsides degree by degree from the Galicia. All the while the capstan is run round and round, dragging the two ships together even as the Venatori do their best to fight on what's effectively become three fronts.

When the two ships finally crash together, the vanguard swarms over. Flint is with them (congratulations on your command, John Silver); he falls to the bloody work there with relish.]

gwenaëlle | ota

[elegiaque]

( in the immediate chaos of the vanguard, gwenaëlle puts to good use both the sharp edge of her blade and the blunt glow of her anchor-shard's shield; it makes her a venatori target, but it also makes her tricky to get near, and she's had a good deal more practise with her shield than with anything else, adroit in its use and fast on her feet.

at least until she loses them from beneath her, blood and sea-water making the deck perilous in a way that even hours whiled away on the walrus could not fully prepare her for the first time—

there is a venatori mage in the path of her fall, if she leans into it. she drops her knee and lets herself slide, loses the shield to take her sword in two hands, and when close enough uses his body to brace herself, sinking the sword in deep and savage with her own weight to drag it deeper still, using it as counterweight to drag herself back onto her feet. she's still holding it, slowed in the effort to pull her blade free, when she takes a blow to the jaw that makes her ears ring and fires fade energy blindly with her left hand in response. )

Romain | OTA

[toujoursdroit]

[There were those in Orlais who wondered -- behind the perceived safety of closed doors -- whether the Duke de Coucy bothered keeping himself in shape anymore. Yes, he'd demonstrably not gone to seed, either in the thinness of frailty or the plumpness of overindulgence, but he was a man years past his soldiering days. He had a son and two grandsons, and no one would expect a man of his age to fight his own duels, or to play the Game sloppily enough to be called out in the first place.

However.

His words to Vane were not, it seems, an idle boast. As promised, he is on the deck of the Galicia with a blade in hand. Romain is no longer a young man, true, but he knows as much and has trained to compensate. As much as anyone can be, he's ready for the worst.

(And, perhaps, straining his eyes in the dark for a glimpse of his granddaughter, who he suspects is not sensibly allowing the pirates to deal with the cultists.)]

Galicia (raid/swim team) + Charles Vane | OTA

[sclavus]

If you expect you have a problem with killing, speak now. [ Charles Vane stands at the center of the group collected on the lower deck of the small merchant ship, still dripping sea water and catching his air from having swam from the Walrus to here, even with the aid of Araceli's enchanted cape. Those he speaks to now are the ones he's selected to raid the enemy ship while they're distracted - Thranduil and Nell at least, a handful of the merchant's crew, and whoever else of the Inquisition that was capable of both swimming and fighting. So long as a decent handful were left on the Galicia deck to meet the Venatori mages, and defend once the battle begins. And what a shit-storm it promised to be. ] We can't afford fighting them to exhaustion - there's no time.

[ most of them they'll be killing before they even realize there's an enemy behind them. he has no time for those who'll quibble about honor and the value of life. they're venatori - who gives a shit? right, so most have likely heard a loose description of what they'll be doing, but he explains again regardless. ]

I'll drop in first. Vision will be difficult, but stay close to the hull, and to the person in front of you. A hand on the hull will guide you. If you absolutely must come up for air between the ships, do so with extreme caution. Raise no more of your face you need to breathe, and be silent. [ If he tells them nothing else about this mission, it's be fucking silent. ] The warship is heavier, so it'll be sunken lower. That means, it'll take longer to swim around. If you're short on air, swim fast.

Once we make it to the other side, we'll climb up the side of the warship, and enter through the gun ports. We'll encounter some of the crew there, but not many with most being on the top deck while the mages are boarding. We must take them out silently. [ a pause, Vane's eyes traveling over those watching with uncertainty, and he nods slightly. we got this, crew. ]

Follow my lead, and we'll be fine.

[ when the time comes, and flint's voice comes whispered through the crystal, Vane waves them forward and they make their way into the water, down the starboard side of the Galicia, as the Venatori warship cozy's up to the vessel's port side, positioned flush to board. Underneath they go, and Vane leads them beneath the hull, hand gliding along rough wood of the hull. When they breach on the other side, he holds long enough to count heads. Looks like he has all of them, only a couple that he grabs by the wandering arms and hauls up to the surface. A gesture of a finger pointing upwards, then coming to rest against his lips tells them "we're going up now, remember to be quiet."

every scrap of boot against the wood, every grunt of exertion, every rustle of fabric has vane tensing, almost certain they'll be heard, but they manage it. He signals them to stay at the edge of the gun ports for a beat, and points to his eyes - "watch me". this is what we're doing.

creeping forward, light like a man his size and height has no right to be, not even the floorboards creak as vane sneaks up behind one of the sailors watching the Galicia from one of the starboard ports. rising up slowly, a short blade in his right hand, there's a moment of pause, before his left hand snaps forward first, covering the man's mouth, and the right follows half a second after, dragged quick and clean across his throat. give a few seconds until the convulsing stops, and he lays the body out quietly. that's how it's done.

your turn, kiddos. ]

Aro | ota

[sorcerised]

[ Aro's part in this is simple, despite a difficult execution. The wave of thunder he conjures produces a violent sound, painful to anyone within ten feet of him when he casts it, but it creates a force that he directs into the merchant ship's sails. It starts to move clear, and Aro follows it up with another elemental push.

After that he's into the fighting. Better at range than up close, he doesn't board the Venatori ship, but he does rain lightning on them from distance. Sparks of electricity that explode on impact are sent at them, sometimes knocking them right away from his allies as the board. Miniature thunderclaps sound from above, less powerful than the wave that had pushed the ship away, but still loud enough to leave ears ringing when they go off above you. When his crossbow comes into play, he combines electricity with it, charging his arrrowheads with his hands before he fires them and adds lightning damage to his strikes.

To those who are boarding, he'll offer something special. You'll find him at your arm, grabbing your elbow, getting your attention at the last moment. ]

Wait, I can help! You know bronze dragons can breathe lightning? [ If you're thinking this is hardly the time for a pop quiz, you'd be right. There's method to his madness, he promises. ]

the aftermath

[katabasis]

[shouting, probably.]

charles vane | ota (+ GROUP AFTERMATH THREAD)

[sclavus]

Directly After (THIS IS A GROUP THREAD);

[ welp, that was a shit show, but they have a new war ship, heyooooo. a new war ship he can captain, hallelujah. However, he's not going skipping over to it yet, because there's still the question of the archon, and flint, and who will keep flint from slitting the archon's throat in the night.

hauling himself back onto the deck, soaked from having to fish a few of their people out of the drink, Vane's eyes set immediately to Flint, and search the crowd of wet rat looking Inquisition refugees for the archon. ]

Where's Silver? [ he asks the closest person, because he is their best bet to keeping Flint's murder streak in. ] The Quarter Master.

On The Venatori Ship;

[ assuming the Archon has been secured somewhere safely away from Flint, possibly on this ship (which would put him in a really awkward spot, sorry Flint), or under strict guard on the Walrus, Vane takes a skeleton crew onto the Venatori ship to assess the damage, and decide how fatal it is. The fight had been chaotic, but they'd been skilled enough to keep the damage to a minimum, bolts shot into places that wouldn't cripple her.

But, they need to get underway quickly, in case reinforcements were sent after this ship. crouches by one of the holes the ballista bolts made in the hull, Vane wears a deep frown, but that's just his resting bitch face. All in all, they're not bad off. ]

We'll have some men board this one up. If we can make port on the other side of Rivain, it shouldn't take long to get a shipwright to fix it properly.


Wildcard;

[ idk, anything else on the way back to the gallows? hit me. ]

Tessa | open!

[zombra]

And once everything's sorted, Tessa sits back and listens to the stories coming out of Minrathous from those who were there. She's really glad she decided not to go. The whole place just didn't seem right, but the Inquisition trying to make a good impression was admirable.

During the day she can be found lending a hand to the sailors doing simple tasks that no one could screw up, and by night she sits with a mug of something she only sips at as she listens to songs and stories. She isn't about to join in with her tales of zombies or songs by Adriana Grande, but she's content, at least.

Aro | ota

[sorcerised]

[ When it's done, Aro feels tired to his bones, and beyond. He's used more magic in these last few days, and in that battle in particular? Than he has in a very long time. Possibly since coming to Thedas. He feels stretched and worn, his fingertips still tingling from leftover electricity. Occasionally it can be seen flickering over his fingers in little surges, an echo of the power he'd called on in the battle. He needs to rest. He needs to sleep more than anything else, but he can't yet. He's too wired from it all, and too nervous that it's not really over.

Part of that is the Archon's presence. He'd wanted him here, had argued for it, had felt strongly that they shouldn't just kill him because he'd be useful and worth something to them, but there's no doubt that bringing him here brought tension, too. For the most part he keeps busy after the battle, and can be found attending to the rigging, tying off ropes, or helping in the galley when there's nothing else to do. Touch him when his hands are sparking and you'll be in for a mild zap of static, for which he'll look immediately remorseful. ]

Sorry. It's calming down.

[ It's not, really, and won't until he gets some rest, but at least the effects are mild. Alternatively, if you've just been rescued, you'll find him fussing around you, offering food, drink and blankets, and generally trying to check you aren't dying. ]

Are you all right? Can I get you anything?

[ He'll do it. As long as it doesn't contravene anything Vane's told him to do. ]

john silver | ota.

[hornswoggle]

( ota. )

[ The warship is not an easily won prize, and the rescue was not as simple a thing as John had pretended it would be, judging from the sight of the bedraggled and bloody assembly that they fish out of the sea. There'll be a count of casualties later, he assumes, but for the moment things seem to be calming. Or they're calming as long as everyone is catching their breath, and rallying for another fight over the looming question of what's to be done with the Archon.

Though in the aftermath, John's aware that he's not much use for anything beyond assessing the general state of things. He isn't any kind of healer. It seems the majority of the journey back is going to be spent anticipating blow ups, which is more John's natural state than attempting to tie on bandages where necessary. He could stay out of the way, consulting with Mr. DeGroot and listening to various complaints from the Walrus men, but he decides to make his way along the deck, observing as people begin to settle. ]

I hear there's rum around, if you're so inclined.

[ Surely anyone who was plucked off the Galicia could use a drink, and any of the returning Walrus men would welcome the offer. ]

Though I would suggest having some now, before the men descend on our stores.

[ Just a fair warning for those with little experience in dealing with a pack of unruly pirates. ]

( nikos. )

[ It has become very clear that Max is trapped in that precarious situation. John's thoughts circle around and around to that now that the most pressing problems have resolved themselves. Max is stuck in Minrathous. She'd gotten some of the information out but not all of it, and John's going to have to resign himself to knitting up one loose end.

It'll be more difficult to sort out Max. But that's a problem to consider later, after he's drawn Max's missives out of the Nevarran. And so that's where John goes, once he's seen to the men, once he's put out a few fires and made sure Flint's steady. ]

I believe you and I have a mutual friend, [ is the first thing he says upon managing to find Nikos. ] One who seems to have, regrettably, gotten herself waylaid in Minrathous.

[ "Regrettably" is a very mild description. But considering how conflicted John is about circumstances between himself and Max, it's the best he can do at the moment. He studies the Nevarran's face, wondering just what about him struck Max as the most worthy courier for her hard-won prize. ]

flint, ota;

[katabasis]

the warship - immediately(ish);
[Revenge fueled stabbings having apparently been tabled for the minute (the hour, the day--), Flint's turned his attention to the half dozen other matters that warrant immediate action. The first order of business is to make his way to the warship's shattered stern cabin, navigating through the tangle of tow cables and twisted ballista bolts, the splintered decking and blown window glass, to the heavy desk still miraculously presiding over the room. It's been bolted to the deck, but he's seen ones exactly like it ripped from their housing in action like this. That it's still in one piece and some of the papers yet laid out where they'd been left might almost be funny given the wanton destruction of the rest of the cabin. Feathers from the punished stern window bench cushions drift absently through the air and everything lays coated in a fine layer of sawdust knocked loose from the seams of the planking overhead.

Flint steps across to the desk. He doesn't bother reviewing any of the documents there. Instead he simpy begins collecting any likely sheaf of paper into a stack, checking and looting the desk's drawers until he finds one that's locked. That warrants use of knife from his belt, striking hard with the pommel against the drawer's encasment with a glowering series of THUNKs until the facing panel splinters.

Hope no one else wanted these log books, because he's claiming them.]

the walrus - later(ish);
[The following dawn finds two ships in tandem, sailing with enough sea room between them to widen the scope of what a lookout in a crows nest might see. If there's any chance of a second Venatori warship at the heels of the first, better that they see it long before it reaches them. Right now they are exactly as mobile as they could wish for after the hot work of the evening prior, and while he doesn't doubt their combined force could now make simple of any single pursuit ship, any further combat would mean losses that could risk seriously slowly their progress.

--Their progress to Kirkwall, with the Archon yet alive and well among their company. In the gray early morning, while the working of the ship is still muted and most of the Galicia's refugees who have found their berth on the Walrus might reasonably still be expected to be asleep in their hammocks, Flint has taken up residence at the taffrail. He has his spyglass trained on the distant friendly warship and wears a look about him that suggests he's found little sleep in the intervening hours since they quit their midnight battleground. The cut on his forehead at least has clearly been tended, his shirt fresh enough to not be dark with Venatori blood.

The wind will freshen soon, he thinks. He means to take advantage of it - to see that the Walrus remains windward of the larger, fractionally slower warship so that should there be any reason at all to fall off and run straight at her - an enemy spied at the horizon being almost the least of his concerns -, he has every intention of seeing to it that they're able to do so quickly.

The spyglass rasps against itself as he lowers and collapses it. It closes with a metal click. His concentration has been such that any new early morning company on the stern deck is only now noticed. If there's a flicker of irritation to mark it, he stows it a split second later in favor of:]

You're up early.

wildcard.
[you know how this works]