( closed ) many seasons have passed me by

[dashing]

WHO: Herian, and the esteemed fighting force of Bronach, Fingon, Helena, Lakshmi, Six & Wren.
WHAT: The Flying Countdown; a diplomatic mission to the Qunari feat. a dragon fight
WHEN: after the Tevinter rescues, slightly vague for flexibility
WHERE: an island in the Boeric Ocean
NOTES: ooc post; content warning for violence and potentially other stuff to be added.

There will be an open toplevel with Herian, then the dragon fight thread for all the combatants that I will GM, and players are also totally welcome to make open top levels for travel to and from the island or any other general RP you’d like to do.

Dragons are especially significant in Qunari culture; although they are not revered in a religious sense, exactly, they represent extraordinary strength. Their death is necessary in order to establish society. High dragons are referred to as "Ataashi," or "glorious ones" in Qunlat.

The Inquisition is known for having successfully felled a number of high dragons over the past few years. The Arishok would like to see them kill a high dragon on an island in the Boeric Ocean that has the potential to be a lucrative source for metal ore and some elements necessary for the production of gaatlok, and peaceful meeting place for the Inquisition and Qunari to develop a rapport, discuss terms of alliance (or at least not outright hostility) and perhaps even an opportunity for an eventual Inquisition outpost.

... They just have to prove they really can kill a high dragon, first.

Some things will have been made very clear: under no circumstances is magic to be used outside of combat with the dragon, and under no circumstances are they to antagonise the Qunari or stir up tension. This is important, especially in the wake of Tevinter. And probably wearing gloves would be wise, too.

Comments

herian; open (prose or brackets are fine my dudes)

[dashing]

Herian spends much of the time on the ship across the Boeric in three ways; speaking with the team concerning appropriate conduct, in prayer, and trying not to be violently seasick. To her credit, she mostly manages to avoid the latter, though if her usual paleness is now tinged with a sort of greyish green it is entirely beyond her control. The pitch and surge of the ship across the moody, storming seas are unpleasant, and come entirely too soon after the recent retreat from Tevinter. Necessity, unfortunately, has little consideration for her non-existent sea legs, even if she does what she hopes is a passable job of not making the weakness glaringly obvious.


On some occasions she can be found on deck, standing at the forecastle yard and holding onto the railing as the ship cuts through the dark grey of the churning ocean. Her knuckles are white, but she is steady on her feet, relieved by the fresh air despite the surging rise and fall of vessel carrying them forward.


After the arrival the others have a day or so to rest and prepare before the dragon challenge itself, while she begins meeting with different people almost . During this time, Herian is working, reviewing a number of documents, but makes a point of making herself available for anyone who wishes to speak with her privately to do so. She can be found in her room in the evening, reading document after document by candlelight.


Or, you know. Wildcard something.

decks;

[limier]

"When you've a moment," Like, right now apparently. Between the roar of the waves and the shouts of the crew, they're unlikely to be overhead. "There is aught we need discuss."

That's a long list. Most pressing: What the long-game here is, exactly.

[dashing]

In her more spirited days, where she was more moody and emotional, she might have been so flippant as to suggest that it was Wren's presence prompting her nausea rather than anything else. Thankfully she is long past such immaturity and knee jerk emotion (generally speaking), and instead bows her head in agreement. If anything, the Commander's presence is something of a relief.

"That there is," she agrees, and if there is a slight tightness to her words? Well, she's Herian. When doesn't she sound slightly tense. She reminds herself to breath, as the ship surges. "I imagine you've a particular topic you'd sooner start with."

[limier]

A light shrug of acknowledgment; she gives up good posture to lean against the rail. Formality may be put aside if the alternative is falling on your ass in the spray.

"It is one thing to placate the Qunari," To convince them the South's well enough in hand that they needn't invade, "It is another to do so in the wake of Minrathous. Where do you see this ending?"

Not in an outpost. Not, at least, like this — so near to such well-kept secrets. The death of a dragon might be accomplished another dozen ways, but what she's gleaned of the symbolism isn't lost. To establish society,

And what a society that would be. Whatever they're trading for this, it must be worth more than a rock in the sea.

[dashing]

"The first correspondence for this was some weeks before Minrathous," she replies, voice quieter than it might normally be. Pensiveness eating up volume and retaliation - an agreement, then. "Placating them may no longer be entirely on the table. I know not if that means we lean closer to an alliance," doubtless a disaster in the eyes of the Chantry, "or if they will take it as an insult that this has come to pass only after the developments in Tevinter. What ground we might have stood for bargaining might already be washed away by the tide of things."

She exhales, and inhales the cold air. So long as she continues breathing, she can get through this journey, and perhaps not entirely give away how green she feels. "I had thought that if we could quell the risk of conflict from the Qunari we might stand more securely against Corypheus, and gain some support on the seas, at times. My other consideration had been," and she glances discretely to make sure there are none straying close to them, "the securing of gaatlok for the Inquisition."

[limier]

That —

That would be worth it. If it could be cut of its strings; if it were not only dangled like a lure. If, and the Qunari must bank their own hoard of those: If Southerners could reproduce the recipe, if the Inquisition's pet Magisters laid hands upon it, if the Chantry, or the Rebellion, or Rifters did.

"Wise to make good of this."

A broken promise signals disorder.

"The Imperium cannot govern itself," Quietly. She inclines her head: The suggestion of an angle, little more. "We have seen now what they make of allies."

[dashing]

"I confess myself uncertain, and that uncertainty strikes more often that I'd like."

She had imagined that Division Heads should feel more certain in some things, if not all of them. She feels like now she has even more questions, that the decisions have so much more needing considering when she is leading a Division and contributing on such a scale.

Perhaps it is laughable that some part of her still looks up to the person she remembers as the Knight Lieutenant, even when she has realised that Coupe puts so little value in honour.

"I fear my role in this will have to be that of negotiator only. Bad enough, to be sending a mage to speak, let alone seeing that magic wielded brazenly."

[limier]

We gave you a real bloody sword —

Well. They don’t need to have that fight right now, and Amsel is no more interested in hiding than she's particularly capable. No doubt, such pretense would be dishonourable,

Small blessings. Or it might have been; a conversation they haven't had since Salzklippe. The possibility written in every shadow Nell casts, in the drip of brains onto her chest, the gleam of light from the Fade. She stretches her neck and joints crack. No, neither of them are suited to this venture.

(Irritation; not for the first time. Their positions might be reversed, perhaps ought to be — the order of things, grown old. Out of date. She swallows it down: Is not humility a knightly virtue?)

"Averesch speaks of arming the lower classes. The slaves. I suspect it a winning sentiment," The twinge of her mouth aside. "If not a winning strategy. Our hosts seem more like to endorse it than the alternatives."

Maybe. It would mean more chaos, prolonged chaos, at Par Vollen's doorstep. It could mean the South marching in.

"Uncertainty be damned, when the day demands a decision, you will give it." Already has. She glances aside, "You might have left Radonis."