[closed] don't go prison (breakin') my heart

[katabasis]

WHO: Benedict, Kitty, Kostos, Derrica, Lazar, Caspar, Poesia, Yseult, Flint
WHAT: The Gang Breaks a Guy Out of Prison
WHEN: Early Cloudreach
WHERE: Tevninter; a small island not far from Neromenian
NOTES: OOC Post; if you're in a group, I highly encourage flexible turn order. Feel free to self-assign where your character ends up once Things Get Real, but please don't have your lad or lady be two places at once. Prompts below are the main action of the plot, but feel free to do whatever you like before/after/adjacent to them.

Eione Island was once a staging ground for Tevinter forces eventually bound for the jungles of Seheron. Today, with the Imperium's attention and the bulk of its military might directed toward the South, the island fortress is an outpost in reserve - maintained by only a few dozen members of a private guard and overseen by Idothea Petrus, the third daughter of a Laetan family which has spent generations carefully navigating their way up Tevinter's social ladder. Much of the island is characterized by its challenging cliff faces with water too deep to cast anchor in. The only sure anchorage to be found is in Eione Bay itself, over which the fortress itself resides. Catapults at either end of the bay provide strong discouragement to anyone who might attempt a surprise landing to take the island by force. SO THEY'RE NOT ATTEMPTING TO SURPRISE ANYONE. Instead, Riftwatch is sailing straight into the bay in their own Tevinter ship, repainted in the reds, gold and blacks of the Artemaeus family and flying a flag of distress. The story? Benedict Artemaeus, son of a magister and heir to a textile trading empire, was returning from having overseen the sale of a large shipment when their ship was attacked by Nocen Sea pirates. Having barely escaped, the ship has put in here at Eione until the likelihood of further danger passes. Besides, wouldn't you know it? - Benedict's picked up some dreadful cough while doing business abroad and now requires the Petrus family's hospitality now more than ever as he recovers. The mages of the group in addition to Benedict are all to pose as semi-important mages in Benedict's company. The rest of Riftwatch's force will pose as servants and advisers and so on, including Yseult as Benedict's most devoted maid who is simply worried sick about her illness-stricken master and must keep close at hand at all times should he seem likely to tax himself overmuch by, say, spilling the beans, and so require the healing touch of a tender knife between the ribs. IF ALL GOES TO PLAN, Riftwatch will take advantage of Petrus' hospitality for the few days it takes to locate where their target, a once-prominent contact with the burgeoning enslaved rebellion in Tevinter who has been missing for two years, is being held. From there, Riftwatch's forces are to divide themselves into three groups: two groups will disable the catapults at each end of the bay in as flashy and dramatic a way as possible so as to draw attention; the third team will descend into the prison, locate Valeriantus, and then make their escape overland to the other side of the island where groups one and two, having made their own get away, will meet them with the ship for extraction. Simple, right?

Comments

derrica.

[tender]

( the voyage )

While the mission itself is not simple, being on the deck of a ship absolutely is. Sailing comes easily. Even sailing under Flint's command is less daunting than it had been. They had managed it once before without incident, and Derrica likes to think she's a little better at anticipating his orders.

All her time is spent on deck. Presently, she's sat atop a barrel against the mast, balancing a knife on the tip of her finger as the ship crests wave after wave. When the knife finally clatters to the deck and spins to a halt, she scrambles after it, coming up short with a sheepish smile.

"It's harder than I remember," is her explanation, before she stoops to reclaim the weapon. "I'm out of practice."

( the aftermath )

Was this mission a success?

Derrica can't quite glean the answer to that from Flint and Yseult, both of whom are unreadable under the best of circumstances. She decides to be content with the bare bones of the situation: they have their prisoner, no one died, and they escaped relatively unscathed.

(And then there's the small, quiet disappointment at venturing inevitably south again, but Derrica's ignoring that.)

She's declined to go down to to climb into her hammock. Instead, she's sitting on the bow of the ship, knees pulled up to her chest. It feels like someone should be giving chase, or that some further misfortune should be making itself known.

"There's room here," she offers, at the sound of footsteps. "If you want to sit."

The Aftermath

[bloodandsand]

"Thank you, sweet," Poesia says, sprawling out gracefully next to her in a lean golden streak. She rolls onto her side to peer up at Derrica, smiling up at her, "Whatever are you staring at so seriously, lovely girl?"

Poesia is a stark contrast to how she'd been on the trip over and the days leading up to their adventure. The excited energy and thrumming intensity has mellowed to cheerful playfulness. Whatever pensive air lingers over the ship hasn't touched Poesia. If anything, she's bemused by it. All that lovely exercise and everyone is so terribly dour.

[tender]

"The ocean," Derrica answers, as she readjusts and turns slightly to face Poesia. "And thinking of Kirkwall."

Among other things, but something as simple as her reluctance to return to rain and flooding and chill is easy to share. Talking to Poesia seems a little like holding a hand very close to a fire. It isn't off-putting, but it reminds her to be cautious.

And if she thinks a little of Athessa, well.

"Do you not like it below deck?"

[bloodandsand]

"There is quite a lot of it, isn't there," she says, the edge of an amused laugh turning her voice into music. She props her chin on her hand and chooses instead to keep watching Derrica rather than the ocean. It's arguably a far more lovely view.

"I don't enjoy the swaying very much when I can't see what's around me," she admits, "It's rather alarming, it feels like the whole world is moving."

[tender]

"That's what I like about it," Derrica admits. She doesn't feel much need to mention the exceptions to that rule; it would be foolish to invoke the idea of storms when they've had relatively smooth sailing so far.

Her head tips towards Poesia, a small smile on her face. The small guilty twinge inside her at the thought of Athessa flickers and is dismissed in the same moment. Derrica simply can't think about her.

"Where did you come from?"

[bloodandsand]

"People certainly have varied tastes." There is not effort to hide her skepticism, even if her words are delicately polite. Still, she returns the smile readily.

"Oh, Nevarra. I don't imagine I could give you a more specific area than that. We lived rather apart from most of so called civilization, up in the mountains."