MISSION: AN OFFER THEY CAN REFUSE

[archademode]

WHO: Wysteria, Gideon, Yevdokiya, Gabranth, and Sawbones
WHAT: Negotiating with the Carta for fun and profit...but mostly profit
WHEN: current
WHERE: Orzammar
NOTES: screaming nugs, good god | OOC post

let's do some mafia work

Nothing can be set in deep stone until work paints them as trustworthy. It isn't a matter of negotiation, but necessity, and so in the wake of that first meeting with Tarash— and his scaled down brother, whose penchant for irritation and anger reminded Gabranth of absolutely no one in particular— they meet within some nondescript corner of Riftwatch's private dining room within the Paragon's rest, huddling up in safer waters for the sake of reviewing given tasks, and deciding what roles they'll play within them.

Aside from the technical illegality of them, and the screaming nug delivery that needs doing without...screaming, it isn't an insurmountable list.
 
But they'll need to devise a strategy regardless: well before they begin trying to smuggle gold beneath the Merchants' Guild's collective, wealthy nose.

Comments

that 'baby, what baby' comic except it says 'tag order'

[archademode]

“We are not getting fire nugs.”

Gabranth interjects with dour determination, his voice all but dripping with it, ignoring the fact that their plans are meant for freer points in the near future.

Focus, is what he seems to implore.

“Our current topic of discussion is the screaming sort, of which we cannot afford to forget.”

[venenifer]

Sitting silently at the table, with one hand clutching a nearly-untouched mug of ale and the fingers of the other pressed to his temple, Brother Gideon listens and wonders how in the Void he ended up here.

[archademode]

That wondering is met by its twin, Gabranth's own determination leaving him unwilling to entertain quietude in all its forms.

“Have any of you access to magic?”

Something of unnatural origin might at the very least make portions of this endeavor easier by his own estimation, though— a vague sweep of their gathered assembly has doubt forming itself along the base of his neck.

“...or at the very least knowledge of what the beasts might feed upon, to keep them silent.”

[deceivingly]

Doki, disappointed by the immediate denial of her dream, had made a disgusted noise and turned her face away again. "I will meet Mari and Adra soon," she says, a vow to Wysteria and to herself. Her cup of ale is empty and she wants another but she does not want to pull herself from the table just yet to get it.

"Nugs are eating anything. Bugs and rocks and worms, whatever they are finding. Everyone is knowing this. If we stuff them full of worms they will not be able to be making noise. This, I can do."

[okayimin]

"We can talk to one of the Dusters that run the races too," Sawbones says, finishing off her own mug of ale and pouring another measure. It's Dust Town swill, of course, but she's missed it a bit. "The golden statues'll be a little harder to squeeze past the guards without attracting attention."

[heirring]

Worms. Hard pass.

"Could we perhaps contrive to cause some commotion to draw the guards away? Feign a theft, perhaps? Or put on some kind of...street performance to draw the eye so that the statues might be passed along while they're looking in some other direction?"

Are you having fun yet, Gabranth?

[archademode]

He's dying thank you for asking.

"My own stature is significant enough that it would be no substantial feat to smuggle objects in the shadow of both armor and cloak." There is something detestable there, lingering on the tip of his tongue in the suggestion: to use what has always been a symbol of wrathful dignity as a tool for deception. But needs must, and Gabranth would be the first to attest to it.

He is strong, he is broad in blackened plate. There may be use enough in that.

"With distraction, I believe there would be no question of innocuity in transit, provided we are coordinated in our efforts."

[deceivingly]

"'Innocuity in transit'. What does this mean?"

Hearing the little Sister pour herself more ale, Doki at last sits up, but only so that she can push her cup closer, hopeful for a refill.

"If you are meaning that you can hide golden nugs in your armpits, this is good, and you should say so. I can help with distraction too if that is what we are wanting. Worms and noise, I am good at these." She grins, a little flash of bad teeth. "We make little muzzles and put in the worms and put them on the nugs--then, they are always eating and they cannot be screaming. There: we have quiet nugs. That is one thing done. Do we need a distraction if we are smuggling the statues in armpits? It is sad that we do not have any magic. Magic I am thinking can be noisy."

[venenifer]

Gideon is watching Yevdokiya with an expression that can only be described as dour disgust, but with an intensity that suggests he is actually considering her words.

He looks like he'd rather die than say, "...that could actually work," but there it is.

[okayimin]

Sawbones huffs and pours Doki some more ale.

"Of course it will," she says to Gideon, as though this were a perfectly regular sort of plan and he's making a big deal of it. To Doki: "Reckon you could get the muzzles from the nug racers no problem. We'll have to bribe 'em otherwise and that ain't gonna be cheap with all of you lookin' like yourselves. Especially you." She gestures to Gabranth.

She continues: "If we can get the statues hidden up in you, that's one thing. We just gotta keep you away from anybody who'd look too close, which means we're gonna need to take the long way around to avoid all the blasted metal smiths. And Wysteria's idea for a street performance is a good one, if you can make it loud and maybe fake some magic, it'll keep a lot of eyes off the transport."

[heirring]

"So it's decided. Sister Sara, you will assist in guiding Ser Gabranth along. There ought to be one other person in your company to carry the crate or whatever you like with the nugs inside of it, yes? And then someone ought to help Miss Waysly--Miss Bearhold with her distraction. This all seems manageable enough."

Sat primly in her chair, Wysteria makes a few additional notes on the pages before her and then looks expectantly to Gideon.

[venenifer]

"I'll carry the crate," Gideon hurriedly volunteers, figuring that if the nugs are quiet as Doki suggests, it will only amount to a fraction of the indignity that the distraction will.

He's stronger than he looks.

[deceivingly]

"Serrah Muscles!"

Approvingly, Doki slaps the table. Her mug of ale is already half gone. She was busy guzzling it while everyone was saying how good of a plan she had thought of. Yes, of course, it is good. She is among the cleverest here, and if they did not understand it before, they do now.

"I am believing you. This is good! I will be street performer. I can walk on my hands very well. Faking magic, with throwing powders, and all of this--Miss Bearhold, she will be yours for this. The little Sister and the little Rifter will be with me. We will do well! Get your drinks, let us toast."

[archademode]

Gabranth rises, but not to toast. Instead he leaves his untouched mug of ale where it rests, along with the concept of any further companionship on his part. He came to table with purpose, and with that finished, so is he.

For now.

“Make ready the last of your details. We finish this tomorrow.”

——

Tomorrow plays its role, as do they all, and so completed time sees them all returned to the Paragon's rear, huddled once more in meeting, a little more weathered for their trouble.

“Our end of the bargain has been fulfilled.” His tongue curls with distaste, barely suppressed— though the matter of it is masked fully by his own helm, kept in place, of course, as he stands dutifully at Wysteria’s back. “If you must, consult your contacts— though I imagine you have already been made aware of this.”

What he hopes, of course, is that any prying eyes would only have noted the results. The end point of their efforts, rather than the full depth of it: the sound of squalling from a closed crate, the momentary pause where his own posture was so stiff as to be conspicuous near standing guard—

From the other end of the table, their contact Tarash shows nothing of either his knowledge or his hand, though his brother’s twitching face shows irritation throughout.

He’s prone to that.

“With this I believe we are free to resume our negotiations in full.”

Is that too presumptuous? Perhaps. But Tarash waves over a round all the same, filling the table with ale in short order. This, of course, is the part where everyone begins making their demands.

Or pleasantries, maybe.