War Table Mission: Master Debaters

[bouchonne]

WHO: Bastien, Fitcher, Jehan, Sawbones, Silver
WHAT: Attending a religious summit in Tantervale
WHEN: Waves hand
WHERE: Tantervale
NOTES: OOC information here.

On the whole, the summit goes quite well. The Riftwatch delegation is given space at a roundtable to present their opinions on several key questions facing the Chantry, including the role of men and non-humans and the right of the Chantry to use military force to support their aims. They argue very well. The largely anti-war sentiment of the Riftwatch delegation, stating that the Chantry shouldn’t be converting nonbelievers, seemed initially like a relatively daring stance to take — and yet the group’s eloquence and poise actually changes some minds, with a few of the more hawkish attendees grudgingly admitting that they have a point. Even more shockingly, their moderate views on non-human Chantry participation are extremely well-argued and quite well-received.

Much less successful is their argument for tolerating the Imperial Chantry: their opening statement is interrupted by a particularly bellicose audience member who is, unfortunately, in turn interrupted by other audience members who shout back; the whole discussion devolves into a shouting match involving very personal insults, in which the first shouting man insults Sawbones for being a dwarf, Fitcher for being unmarried, Jehan for being associated with the liberal University of Orlais, and Silver and Bastien for having facial hair unbecoming of this elite meeting of intellectuals. Everyone leaves the auditorium fuming.

This is the only major failure of the whole event, however. Otherwise, the talks are a resounding success. In the end, the Lady Chancellor approaches the Riftwatch group and speaks with them briefly; her manner is cool, but attentive, and she generally gives an impression that she respects them a bit more.

Comments

SUMMIT PRE-WORK: Talk amongst yourselves

[bouchonne]

[ This thread can be used for comment spam in which characters can debate the questions that were up for debate at the summit. No particular tag order required. ]

Question 1: Is it acceptable to go to war to spread Andrastian teachings?

[bouchonne]

[hornswoggle]

So, how shall we begin? Show of hands?

[ Who among them is shy about their opinions here? Just the Chantry brother, surely. ]

[okayimin]

That seems the most reliable method. If there's debate to be had, I'd prefer to save it for the Chantry.

[ as if she were not sitting there in full Chantry habit. ]

[unshut]

A show of hands hardly allows for the nuance this question deserves. [It's good spirits more than it is a serious objection - fully aware that she is laying bait.] But we may as well establish our starting positions. All in favor?

[This is the point where all you faithful warmongers make yourselves known.]

I'm so late and so sorry. also rping two characters in one thread and not sorry.

[apologist]

[ Jehan is not in his Chantry robes, but he did introduce himself—whether anyone needed to know who he was or not—as Brother Jehan, just to make sure.

And, anyway, he raises his hand. Halfway. The elbow is bent so his hand is really more in front of his eyes than above his head. ]

I mean—it depends.

[ (Bastien, off to the side, doesn't move from where he's holding his chin on his fist.) ]

Question 2: Should elves and dwarves have the right to serve in the higher echelons of the Chantry?

[bouchonne]

[okayimin]

Are we going to bring up Shartan.

[ Which sounds remarkably like let me fight the other nerds. ]

[unshut]

[Behold, the delicate rise of her eyebrows.]

To what end?

[okayimin]

His role in Andraste's march and the formation of the early Chantry is relevant. As is his subsequent erasure, to be frank. If we are going to discuss this, we ought to first acknowledge that an elf served alongside Andraste herself.

[unshut]

And as to the other half of the question? If Shartan is what you'd stake your claim on, you may bet someone will ask after a dwarven equivalent.

Question 3: Should men have the right to serve in the higher echelons of the Chantry?

[bouchonne]

[unshut]

Ah. Surely we can all agree on this one.

[By this point in their debate preparation, Fitcher has removed her shoes and kicked her heels up onto the low table before the couch in the common room of the suite Riftwatch has been so generously provided during their visit. She is, for the record, very much regretting this business of agreeing to be the note-taker for this pre-conference meeting of the minds presently occurring.

Nonetheless, for the third time this evening she clears her throat and heroically reads aloud the next question from the prepared documentation they've been supplied:]

'Should men have the right to serve in the higher echelons of the Chantry?'

[okayimin]

I could see some merit in allowing them to take on similar rolls to Mothers.

[ Said with some amount of thoughtfulness on the subject. ]

Wouldn't want one as Divine, though.

[unshut]

[Her hand is moving already, taking brisk shorthand notes. Without looking up, Fitcher prompts,]

Why the limitation?

[okayimin]

[ She's an answer ready, of course: ]

The Divine is a symbol of Andraste, a woman herself. It stands to reason that the one who the faithful followed ought to have that in common with Andraste herself.

[ More dryly: ] And the suggestion of a male Divine would be the sort of thing to whip everyone into a frenzy, what with the current war.

[unshut]

[Fitcher hms, hand still moving. Her follow up question has the air of a woman playing Mafereth's advocate on purpose more than it does real conviction - they well, after all, need to practice facing such inquiries:]

Does not any promotion of men suggest a incremental turn toward heresy? Today, we allow a male Grand Cleric. In subsequent generations, someone will ask 'Well, why not Divine?' And then what difference would there be between us and the dreaded Black Chantry?

[cozen]

Magic, [ Bastien proposes, ] and color scheme.

Question 4: Should a Divine have the right to remove an unjust ruler?

[bouchonne]

Question 5: Should the Chantry tolerate the Imperial Chantry?

[bouchonne]

[okayimin]

I havne't a clue why this is in question. The Chantry doesn't tolerate the Imperial Chantry to begin with.

[hornswoggle]

I can only assume that so far what we've seen is the Chantry's version of tolerating the Imperial Chantry.

[ Tolerate that way that a hated ex is tolerated. ]

[okayimin]

Just so. It's more like they're reframing the first question than asking a new one.

[apologist]

I think there is a distinction. One that depends on whether or not you believe that the Imperial Chantry is still a Chantry. We do sing the same song and worship the same Maker, to the best we know how—one could argue.

[ Maybe not him. Academically, though. ]

The goal of the Chantry is to spread the Chant across Thedas. So how different can an interpretation of the Chant become before we would say it no longer counts?

AT THE SUMMIT

[bouchonne]

[ You can use this thread to have discussions during the summit. If you’ve ever been to a conference, you know that the most frequent topic of conversation is the quality, or lack thereof, of the coffee. Second-most frequent is the actual ideas under discussion. ]

[unshut]

[In the natural lull which occurs directly after lunch, with only half the assembly having returned to their seats and while attention spans are still in short supply, Fitcher leans over to her immediate neighbor and quietly asks,]

Tell me, who does the esteemed Sister from Starkhaven remind you of? There is something familiar in her face and I've been unable to put my finger on it.

[hornswoggle]

[ A pause, while John studies the esteemed Sister in question. ]

She puts me in mind of a matron I knew some years back, but I can't imagine you've crossed paths with a woman running a ramshackle inn far to the north.

[unshut]

[From where she is bent very slightly in his direction, Fitcher hmmmms thoughtfully.]

I assure you that I have seen my share of ramshackle inns, Master Silver. [But—] Though imagine your definition of 'far north' to be somewhat different from mine.

[hornswoggle]

Oh, I imagine so.

[ Invoking Rivain or Seheron, even at a hushed whisper, seems like inviting trouble. So John does not. ]

Do you suppose she just has one of those faces? The type to seem familiar in any setting? I would think it would be an asset for her.

[unshut]

I suppose it would, [she say, a kind of partial placeholder agreement for the general thing in strong tones of 'But I don't think that's quite right either.']

It's someone I saw recently. I'm certain of it. [A brief, considering silence. Then--] Have you taken in much theater in Kirkwall, Master Silver?

[hornswoggle]

I somehow haven't managed to find the time.

[ Turning slightly in his seat to devote something more of his attention to her, rather than continue to entertain the pretense of listening to the increasingly dry debate over a particular passage of the Chant. ]

Do you suppose she has a look-alike on the stage?

[unshut]

There was a company out of Wycome in the summer playing My Sister's Husband. Perhaps she has a sister - a dark horse sibling gone far away from Tantervale, perhaps?

[How scandalous, say her eyebrows.]

[hornswoggle]

[ An answering grin, John's hands folding one over the other at the handle of his crutch. ]

Do you suppose it's a great source of aggravation for her? Saintly disposition tarnished by the actions of a sibling—a younger sibling, I imagine.

[ Smashcut to this rumor running rampant around the summit. ]

[unshut]

[It would hardly do for Riftwatch to be the only outrageous element in play.]

Wouldn't you find it so? [Far at the other end of the table, someone with a particularly droning voice begins to speak in an effort to wrangle drifting attendees back to their seats. Fitcher lowers her voice still further, a secretive rumble.] Or have you never had a younger sister with which to be mortified by?

[hornswoggle]

No little sisters, but a great deal of brothers.

[ Walrus men will serve for this tidbit, surely. ]

I've a theory that informing them that their behavior is mortifying only serves to encourage them.

[ He leans slightly back in his chair, observing the stirring of movement and jockeying for seat. Tipping his head, he indicates a stooped figure towards the front rows of seating. ]

That gentleman there is going to give a speech before this exercise is through. He has the look of a man with opinions to be aired.

[unshut]

[The line of her mouth flexes, a smile that's all charmed. Yes, that's been her experience with siblings as well—

But rather than comment, her attention dutifully swivels after his toward the gentleman in question.]

Ah, [is knowing agreement.] Yes, indeed. I believe I overheard him talking to his colleague - the bird boned woman to his right, there. He has some strong opinions regarding the Imperial Chantry.

[hornswoggle]

[ Hm. ]

Do you suppose we should try to intercede there before we arrive at formal arguments on the matter?

[ Wait— ]

Unless he's in agreement with our own?

[unshut]

On the subject of the Imperial Chantry? Not specifically. But I believe his concerns have less to do with the Black Divine and his Brothers and how they might color either the faith or the war effort than they are related to the question of conversion. A subject on which, [Fitcher reminds him, though her sidelong glance and small smile says she knows he hardly needs her to say so] we are apparently very moderate.

[There is really no lowering her voice any further than it is already. However, something in the timbre shifts regardless.]

What do you suppose such an intercession might look like?

[hornswoggle]

[ He certainly doesn't have to tell her his first thought: Interceding with such devout individuals is a difficult thing. ]

Like Brother Jehan standing very near us when we enter the conversation, [ John says first, because something needs to offset John's everything. ] Do you suppose we might catch him over lunch, engage him in a more hypothetical discussion before we enter into something more formal this afternoon?

[unshut]

[Beside him, Fitcher clucks her tongue as if disappointed. Light conversation over lunch? Honestly now, Ser Pirate.]

I suppose we might. Between the three of us, we might almost be convincing. I can be very austure.

[She does not wink, but there is something of the suggestion of it there in her brows.]

[hornswoggle]

I'd hope so, because the pair of you have to offset me.

[ All the charm in the world doesn't entirely off-set John's everything.

But in the wake of that, his head tips, studying her. ]

Though if you have a better idea than trapping him over a meal...

[ A minor sweep of the hand. The floor is yours, Madame. ]

[unshut]

[In reply, a demurring tip of the head.]

Not at all. I was just hoping that some of your profession's tell tsle drama might afford us a little excitmenet - hog tying the pair of them and stuffing them a broom closet for the duration of the conference. Dosing their food to give them the runs.

[She sighs - a very small one - and takes a sip of her cooling coffee.]

Something to break up the monotony.

[hornswoggle]

I can't say I'm not tempted.

[ It is exceedingly boring. ]

But then I'd have to be scolded by our dear Ambassador, and that's almost as tedious as this morning's discussion.

[ Ha, Byerly scolding. ]

[unshut]

[Clearly he isn't the only one who considers that prospect amusing, for Fitcher chuckles into her delicate cup.]

Casual conversation over lunch, then. Shall you and Brother Jehan take the gentleman while I distract his stork companion?

shall we stick a bow on this

[hornswoggle]

[ The descriptor of "stork" gets a smirk in return, but as to the approach— ]

I'll appraise our saintly Brother once we're free to rise.

[ Welcome to the tag team, Jehan. ]

pins one on

[unshut]

[Her mouth pulls crooked in return, a good natured smile half hidden behind the edge of her coffee cup. By the time she has taken her next sip and the cup is lowered back to the expansive table, the shuffling of feet and scraping of chairs about them quieting at last as the break ends and the meeting reconvenes, it has been reduced to little more than a lingering sentiment.

Small schemes will simply have to suit, given that large ones do not.]