faderift | ( closed ) I hear your whispers

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( closed ) I hear your whispers

WHO: Adasse Agassi, Herian Amsel, James Flint, Jester Lavore and Teren von Skraedder
WHAT: Blast from the P(entagh)ast assignment
WHEN: Harvestmere
WHERE: Nevarra
NOTES: Content warnings for death related images, and themes of war and murder, potentially. Please feel free to start open starters or smaller threads, but hold off on anything set after the big group chat until we have further information.

The Inquisition are not alone in recognising the potential value of Aurelia Pentaghast. The Venatori have also come to the conclusion that Aurelia is the strongest potential candidate to rule Nevara, and probably the most formidable military mind Nevarra could have in that role. They are interested in using the deal she made with the Anders to either ruin or control her.

A Venatori-hired rogue (spy, poet, and stealer of valuables and hearts) is also present at the negotiations, trying to secure proof of the deal in the form of correspondence or signed and sealed statements from nobles who collaborated in the bargain.

The bad news is that he definitely gets the documents he’s after.
The good news is that the team can stop him, with the excellent scouting members present and snooping during all the diplomacy.

The team must make a choice. What will you do, Inquisition?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There is a man on the floor, bound and gagged. He has blond hair that falls in the sorts of ringlets that only belong in flowery novels, and a charming smile that was sported many times before he was discovered. His face looks less charming with blood streaming from his nose.

This man is Vel Ruso, a spy in the employ of the Venatori. He has told them this: that the Venatori are only honouring the deal Aurelia made with the Anderfels and leaving Perendale intact because they think they can use it to control the Pentaghasts. If the Venatori don’t receive proof, they’ll have no reason not to make the Pentaghasts look weak. Perendale will be attacked, and it is currently undefended.

And none of them need to be told, Herian imagines, what the consequences of the Venatori having means to manipulate and control the ruler of Nevarra could be.

The Inquisition delegation are gathered in one of the cellars of Aurelia's estate. Not much in the way of chairs, admittedly, but they have lanterns lit, and there are sacks of flour and grain, crates, and barrels to sit on. Herian is not presently seated, instead standing very straight and upright, and facing away from the rest of the party. She has been silent for long moments.

What should they do? Her lungs feel ragged, even if she appears very calm and still. Let Perendale be razed? Allow innocents to die, for the mistakes of Aurelia Pentaghast? Or leave Nevarra, their world to whatever the Venatori might wish to bend Aurelia to, should she secure the throne?

She holds the papers that Ruso had secured, his evidence and blackmail material, rolled up, in one hand. Her other clenches her wrist, hard.

"These cannot go to the Venatori," she says softly, when she finally speaks.

( Don't worry about tag order, but please don't tag more than twice a day so that nobody gets left behind.

Please feel free to start open starters or smaller threads, but hold off on anything set after this thread until we have further information. )

Teren is not seated either, but pacing slowly around the spy on the floor with the air of a cat contemplating a crippled mouse. She has one small knife out, which she's using to trim her fingernails, periodically glancing down to the man with a thoughtful expression.
It's possible that keeping him alive is important, but all anyone need do is say the word, really.

"Perendale can't be left defenseless," she adds, looking to Herian pausing her pacing to step one foot onto Vel Ruso's chest, as if he'd go anywhere.

Adasse has seated himself on a crate, away from the two tense women. Not just because Herian is Herian and Teren is Teren, but that he needs to get away from the Sheer Intensity of them so he can focus on his own thoughts. He's still dressed in the garb of one of the elven servants, and he plucks at the fancy waistcoat he's in as he watches the spy on the floor.

Hooking up one long leg towards his chest, he leans into it a little and state simply. "If we move now, we can get them word. At least let them have some chance of protecting themselves."

A word in the right place saved Orlais after all, more or less. Anders nearly burned to the ground because they wouldn't listen, and Tevinter was probably the Orlais Civil War Zone right now because they listened too late, so Adasse's not entirely certain where Nevarra was going to fit on the scale.

"Ask him what he knows about a Venatori assault - where it might come from and in what strength."

This from the man standing at the edge of the lamplight, sturdy and still. Flint's been quiet for some time, a calculating presence in the cellar, and there are flecks of dried blood on his neck above dark collar of his coat with no accompanying cut or scrape to indicate it's his. A souvenir from the evening's earlier work, no doubt.

He could ask Vel Ruso directly - the man's surely heard already from where he's bound on the floor -, but Teren is eager and they're the sort of questions best married with a knife.

To Herian's back: "In the mean time, one of us should retain the papers and immediately return to Kirkwall. Aurelia can be warned about the danger and made aware that the documents are safely in the Inquisition's possession."

They'd come here for leverage. That sheaf of papers is it.

Herian listens carefully, and half turns to more properly address the others. To Flint: "So far as I understand it, Perendale has been in a state of... stagnant siege for some time, for this appearance of it being captured. The city is already surrounded. It would be best for the Scoutmaster to be contacted directly, on case there have been developments or information gathered in our absence." However: "Certainly we must determine if he knows what additional forces might come."

She looks to Flint, nods her agreement, and to the others. If they move now, Perendale might have a chance of protecting themselves—

it seems so fractional and impossible, though. Perendale's fate was all but sealed, if they made this decision. The lives of a city hung in the balance. Honour could not council her. Honour advised to do what was right, just, compassionate, brave, true. Was it more compassionate to burn a city to allow a better chance to save the world? Was it more brave to spare themselves the grief of condemning a city, and risk the whole world in the longer term? Was either more honest? More just?

Her knuckles are white as she grips their damned leverage. Taking power from the Venatori, to be able to manipulate in their own right. Was that justice?

"If the Venatori receive no word, they will become suspicious."

"Which is an inevitability we seem committed to, so best to use this time while we have it." The minutes they stand down here in some dusty cellar are minutes that could be spent in action.

"Pick your messenger. They can secure a horse and be gone by the time whatever information is extracted from the spy and before Aurelia's heard any part of this."

All rightily dightily.

"You heard the man," says Teren, crouching in a motion that's almost unnaturally fast, her blade coming to rest on Vel Ruso's Adam's apple, her knee still on his chest.
"Your thoughts?" Even when she tries to sound tender, Teren still only has about as much softness in her voice as an eagle feeding her chicks a live dinner. At the moment, no such effort is being made.

Wow, this is a lot.

Jester, as the sole Rifter among the group, has played the role of support. Because she's a cleric, right? A healer (however reluctant) and a conjurer of Spiritual Weapons, an eater of pastries, weaver of friendship bracelets, dispenser of blessings, and a morale officer for the Inquisition. And she is in way over her head, which is saying something, because in Thedas? She is seven feet tall.

She doesn't look seven feet tall, right now. Her Disguise Self spell has her looking like a maybe-human woman, just a little under six feet tall, with pale skin and a tumble of long dark hair that kind of resembles Herian's. Maybe she is Herian's little sister, actually. The resemblance is striking, epseically now that Jester is stood close to Herian (who is really pretty), listening to everything and chewing on her thumbnail. It would be better if it was a bear claw, man. She would love a bear claw right now.

"Hey," she says, as Teren (who is scary pretty, like a knife herself or a cannibal with good cheekbones) puts a knife to the spy's throat. "Can I see the papers? I am really, really good at forgery. Like, really. If I look at them I can totally write something else and make it look like the papers came from whoever wrote them. If that's what we want to do," she says, more to the group at large, "because right now I think we are going to kill him and not tell anybody, right? But maybe say, hey, it's me, the spy, I'm going on a long vacation, don't look for me, but here are the secrets...."

It's a first draft, okay.

There are a few things to consider. Captain Flint speaks rightly. They must move, and quickly. She is about to speak to address that, when Jester makes her offering.

"Forgery?" That was a boon, certainly, if Jester was so good as she claimed. Herian looks to the papers - some notes penned by Vel, others from his own contacts, and then the documents and contracts that he was going to send to the Venatori. She draws out one of the notes, and then finds another letter that was shortly to be sent, with Vel's signature. Useful, but not one of the essential documents.

"Captain Flint, you will take the rest of these documents and depart to Kirkwall immediately. Do whatever you must to ensure this reaches Scoutmaster Ashara." She holds the bundle out to him, holding his gaze.

And then, she looks to the rifter, who frankly looked... unsettlingly familiar. "Jester, we will need to work on the missive to send to the Venatori. Perhaps Teren can provide guidance on how to best word the report. If it buys us time for Aurelia to defend Perendale, that's the best we can hope for, but I'd wager they will be suspicious of anything that seems like stalling."

Adasse and Teren were both scouts, proven to be capable. Her jaw clenches for a moment, and she address them both: "I take it you are both willing and able to depart to Perendale? It will not be a simple undertaking, with the city surrounded. The risks to both of you are significant."

(Vel, for his part, is very pale, but smiles at Teren. His teeth are bloody. "I told you everything I know," he rasps, protesting the weigh on his chest. "I'm not Venatori, I just work for them." )

Forgery. That's a handy skill. It warrants fixing Jester in her glamour with a brief look of re-evaluation, a calculating pause as Herian sorts through the papers and Warden von Skraedder's knife does whatever it pleases in concert with her boot heel. The use of his name draws his attention back.

And for a split second, the small lines on Flint's face shift as if uncertain whether he's annoyed by or approves of the selection. He must settle on the latter. The fight in Perendale is already Aurelia Pentaghast's to win or lose, and, if nothing else, Amsel can be trusted to be tight with the Inquisition's metaphorical purse strings. He can imagine no drastic action she might possibly be convinced to pursue.

The packet is taken, rolled twice in hand to transform it into a compact bundle, and tucked inside his coat. To Herian: "Be absolutely certain Aurelia knows what we have. Send a message should you need anything."

Adasse's dark eyes narrowed on the spy, spitting out blood and nothing else under Teren's careful knife, before he let his gaze shift back to Herian. He nodded once, eying the clothing he was wearing now.

"I'll go get back into the rags. Poor elven farmer is pretty general, should get me through whatever guards they might have posted."

He stood up, stretching his lanky form, his gaze moving from Herian, over to Flint, then back to Jester. "Do I need to steal anything to make it official? Seal, right kind of paper, that sort of thing?"

"Certainly general," Herian replies, cautious, "but passive as the siege has been, it is still a siege. Perendale may have suspicions on who it lets enter its walls, and the Anders may eye anyone travelling to a city surrounded by enemies suspiciously as well."

As in who in their right minds would be travelling there instead of escaping. Scouting and spywork are not her specialities, however. Perhaps they both have an understanding that she is lacking.

To Flint, she nods - grimly. The stakes in this are high. "Travel safely."

And that's that. With a curt nod to Adasse and Teren, and a quirked eyebrow at Jester that must roughly translate to 'Good luck with that', Flint makes his way from the cellar without further statement or argument. See you all back in Kirkwall.

Jester waves good-bye Flint, quirked eyebrow and all. Technically that eyebrow means he is wishing her well, in his own grumpy man way. She'll take it, and yells a heartfelt, "Good luck!" after him, before she turns her attention back to the letter that Herian selected for her to copy.

"The miss-sive," she repeats, in a serious sing-song, as she shakes the paper open and flat. "Forging the missive. Leave it to me, I am ready for it, man. Hey, if you guys are going to go, maybe you can get a seal and bring it back to me! Even if I do really really good forgery, like the best, it will be way more convincing if we have the official seal to put on it, you know? And maybe we can use it later. To forge more."

She looks over at Herian, a younger sister seeking her older sister's approval. "That'd be good, right?"

A glance at Jester. "Yes, that... could be valuable."

She is so uncertain about this cheeriness, but it reminds her a little of Saoirse, and that's kind of nice - e even in the absurdity.

"Scout Agassi, Warden von Skraeder - I trust you will not risk your communication crystals or anything that can be used against the Inquisition falling into enemy hands. Destroy them, if you must."

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( closed ) I hear your whispers

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