[closed]

[katabasis]

WHO: Tony, Byerly, Yseult, Flint
WHAT: Worlds best bosses discuss their 5 year 6 month plan.
WHEN: Now-ish
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: N/A, will add if necessary

[There had been a traffic jam on the Kirkwall docks. Something about a barge waiting to load a herd of goats and float them out to a mercantile ship waiting for resupply taking up most of the usual small craft moorage. And how it was meant to have been a temporary stay but had unexpectedly extended dramatically when the goats—possibly sensing futures of cramped, short lives at sea ending in stews and salt barrels—staged a jail break en route from stock yard pen to expectant barge. Cue shouting goat herds and sailors and a cursing representative of the harbormaster, and the color commentary of a growing string of ferries and rowboats and little fishing vessels jostling for dock space. All of which is to say—

Flint had been late, and saying so by crystal may have saved the others the trouble of sitting around a table without him but it's given the fire in the meeting room's hearth plenty of time to burn. So the room is warm. The coffee set out has gone cold. He'd shed his coat within the first minute of arriving and now sits close to the room's bank of windows in hopes that some of the damp cold air flowing through the one that's been cracked open will do away with the prickle of sweat on the back of his neck incurred from power walking up a half dozen flights of stairs.

The stack of papers—reports and notes and various bits of division minutiae—near his hand can hardly be the only set on the table. They've also a great map spread between them all pockmarked with heavy wooden markers, and a long stick to hand for shoving them around with. But the papers (or the subjects covered in them) are the pressing business. He turns one over, saying,]

Given the organization and speed with which the enemy left Ghislain, I doubt there will be much left to pick over. That said, while I've asked our liaison with the Inquisition to keep us abreast of the situation, it would be prudent to send a few of our own people to assist in recovery efforts. I'd rather we have our own eyes there should anything of note be unearthed from the rubble.

[He glances up then, casting a look about the room.]

With the front line so altered and with the change in our own ranks [Hi Tony] now might be a good time to evaluate the trajectory of our efforts.

Comments

[katabasis]

[Flint's hand, already meandering up toward smoothing his whiskers either out of habit or an effort to disguise any glimmer of amusement for dog based puns, judiciously reverses trajectory before he can be caught mid-villainous mustache twirl.

A swift glance pings off Yseult and bounces back to Tony, eyebrows rising in the direction if Well?]

[propulsion]

[ There's a half-hooked smile for Shenanigans, and it stays around as Tony eyes the stack of pages next to him that represent his priorities. He flips through the pages without actually reading as he says, ]

Rift opening alert system, bigger badder toys, home improvement projects, and some minor lil' footnote, somethin' 'bout [ reading voice ] find and close the Blight-corrupted rift gates before they bring about untold horror and devastation upon the land as foretold in prophecy.

[ Swinging a look to Yseult as he reaches for his coffee; ] Should we go round the table?

[hassaran]

[ No. ]

The gates will no doubt be a joint priority. Is the enchanted weapon among these toys?

[propulsion]

[ Tony had been starting a sip of coffee there and now it continues for some prolonged seconds before he lowers it. ]

Could be.

[bouchonne]

[ A quirked eyebrow of invitation. ]

The enchanted weapon?

[katabasis]

[The Excuse me? tip of his head is definitively directed at Yseult rather than Stark.]

[hassaran]

[ Yseult simply lifts a brow at Tony in prompt to continue, and marks down two points in her mental scoresheet. ]

[propulsion]

[ Tony is already looking back at her with a flatter expression, more dry than, like. Mad about it.

But he swivels his focus to address Byerly's question like this was the plan all along— ]

Is not finished. Also not mine. But we've been developing means of building magic into machinery for a while now. And by 'we' I mean myself and a coupla colleagues, not Super Nanny over here.

[bouchonne]

[ By nods, wide-eyed, in mock-comprehension.

Then his expression drops, and he asks considerably more dryly: ]

What sort of machinery, my good Provost and my esteemed Spymaster?

[hassaran]

[ It's good Yseult is already looking directly at Tony or else the force of her head turn at Super Nanny would have been a thing to behold. Instead her look just flattens and chills by a few degrees. Her voice doesn't change. ]

As I understand it, a weapon permitting individual non-mages to trigger enchantments.

[propulsion]

And.

[ Chilly look is met like what, you started it, as Tony then leafs through his notes. It takes him a little longer than would be strictly smooth— ]

Gimme a sec.

[ —but he does produce a section of bound parchments, and pushes it out onto the table further. It probably looks like a mess of fine lines and tinily scribbled notes to most, but like an optical illusion, these diagrams could potentially resolve into an ]

Airship. Slow, quiet. Doable. Dope as hell.

[katabasis]

[Just going to—yoink that stack of papers, thank you, rather than suffer the indignity of simply pinballing a whomst the fuck look between his colleagues.

There are roughly six questions that come to mind. Yseult had better appreciate that the one he asks isn't All right, but why the fuck do you know about any of this? or And why is this the first we're hearing of it? and instead, in a heroic display of restraint, is—

For Tony:]

What's stopping you from building this right now?

[bouchonne]

[ By, meanwhile, frowns very slightly, but says nothing. ]

[propulsion]

[ Peeling through the papers will also show other things. Schematics for a kind of high altitude hang glider is directly beneath the airship designs.

Tony smiles at Flint, raises his cup, and like it's the most obvious thing; ] Well I haven't finished my coffee, Commander.

[ But the cup is set down, and he adds; ] Lyrium, manpower, materials, time and room to construct. I can make it happen if we can afford to make it happen.

[hassaran]

Have you prepared a budget?

[ Is not said like a dig--she wouldn't be shocked if he has. ]

We'll need to reallocate funds. Or revisit the subject of privateering.

[katabasis]

The men are hungry for it and I can't imagine that at this stage our allies would be opposed to issuing letters of marque.

[This said as his attention slides from Stark, flits uneasily to Yseult and then at last stubbornly returns to reviewing the schematics. Byerly Rutyer and his small frown are a negligible concern.]

The passage past Ostwick and the headlands at Hercinia might fall outside our reach unless we find some friend in the latter willing to back us. But it should be simple enough to show them the reason in it; if allied trade were to fall away from Antiva, that would be the next likely port of call. And if we snatch up the one, Ostwick is like to follow suit.

[bouchonne]

If I may -

[ By raises a hand. ]

This is all, of course, hideously thrilling. But perhaps before we discuss the question of how to do this, we should consider whether to do it?

[ He picks up a piece of cake and begins smashing it methodically into tiny crumbs. ]

We are, after all, a small, relatively undefended force out here. To date, we have been kept safe largely by virtue of being rather too piddling for Corypheus to give a shit about. But I don't think anyone here isn't aware that if Tevinter decided to focus their efforts here, we'd be - hm - rather hard-pressed to defend ourselves.

So - [ By points at the third-best facial hair in the room. ] The research division creates these grand weapons - enough to give us a better chance, enough to give the Vints the ability to end this war. Corypheus hears about it. And then...?

[hassaran]

[ Who could have guessed that they'd spend even a moment of this meeting discussing the possibility that Riftwatch might become too effective? ]

Then we improve our defenses and prepare a plan to retreat to Cumberland or Val Royeaux if necessary.

[bouchonne]

[ A bit dryly: ]

How simple it sounds when you put it like that.

[propulsion]

[ Tony had, at some point, moved aside some pages to extract the document that Yseult just asked for, and then paused to listen. Then, he lists sideways enough to put in her reach for consideration as he says; ]

No, no it doesn't.

[ Hands return to coffee. ]

It sounds complicated and difficult. The problem's when it starts sounding impossible.

[katabasis]

[With a rustle of papers to cover evidence of anything so gauche as approval, the schematics are turned back to their first page and passed in Byerly's direction. Diplomatically:]

Don't be such an old woman, Rutyer.

[Now, lest anyone blame him for veering off the track for the sake of petty insults—]

So long as we're organizing along the coast, we may as well look to mopping up Val Chevin. If the Venatori know about other gates and if there is any intelligence to be turned up on the subject in the South, it's likely most accessible to us there given the mess in Perendale.

[bouchonne]

[ By's look at Flint is deeply unimpressed. Old women are magnificent, sexy creatures, you fool. ]

Once things start sounding impossible, it may well be too late. [ A wave of his hand - ] There was a dream. Perhaps it was bullshit. No doubt great swaths of it were. But it did seem to have been sent by the Herald. And I suspect our dear Provost's captivity and collusion with the enemy in that dream would have started very much like this.

[propulsion]

[ Tony, arms folded, gestures out towards the table. ]

Counterpoint: I brought cake.

[hassaran]

[ In contrast to Flint's rudeness and Stark's flippance, Yseult fixes Byerly with a steadier gaze, heavy as a hand on the shoulder. ]

Good reason to proceed with discretion and caution, and to take measures to prevent such an end. But not to forego the opportunity altogether.

If one exists. [ She sits back, tone shifting. ] We've no proof yet any of this will work.

[katabasis]

Regardless, it has direction. And falls conveniently in line with a half dozen of our other priorities.

[Leaning forward, Flint fetches the pot of coffee. He fills one cup and then hefts the pot in Byerly's direction, hovering like a question mark over the possibility of pouring a second.]

Unless the Ambassador has some secrets of his own counter to all this that he'd like to divulge.