why is fishing such good business?

[tender]

WHO: Derrica, Ellie + Loxley
WHAT: Bullying a fisherman
WHEN: Very early August
WHERE: Jader
NOTES: ooc notes

Basile Anselme was probably having a very fine day, by the look of things. His nets are full, the deck had been clear, and squawking loudly from a cage in the corner of the deck is a raven, presumably from Val Chevin.

Yes, a day that by all accounts had been going to plan, but now is certainly not.

Basile has been cursing at them in a steady stream of increasingly indignant Orlesian, after several escape attempts and Loxley's most persuasive efforts had failed. Crushed belly-down on the deck while Derrica tries to wrestle his wrists into a loop of rope, he has very decisively rejected their suggestions as to relocating to Rivain and leaving his fishing boat to Riftwatch.

"The message was in code," Derrica is saying, a little desperate. "Do you think we can find the codebook somewhere on the boat?"

They're all a little drenched from the near-loss of Basile to the sea on his last attempt. The kind of problem he presents is something to be dealt with after they've figured out whether or not his codebook is somewhere easily accessed. If not—

Well, maybe Commander Flint won't be too put out if they bring back an entire fisherman for Madame de Cedoux to interview and extract codes from.

Comments

[charmoffensive]

Loxley would like to get out of this situation without maiming anyone, personally, but is absolutely not above giving the impression like he doesn't mind either way.

"He's remarkably slippery," Loxley says, before Ellie can give her assurance. There's a more subtle show going on as he pitches his voice at a specific kind of volume: seemingly quiet enough for only his companions to hear, but absolutely certain the fisherman will catch it too as he adds, "And you know our orders, if we can't get him to comply."

Out of line of sight of their captive, he presses a regretful thin smile at the two, like, we have fun here, don't we.

He turns, then, with the intent to start searching, letting his movements sound brisk and impatient, which is: because they are, in part, but also in show, knocking something over so that it reverberates through the deck, communicates some sense of time running out to be helpful.

[notathreat]

"Not the first time I've tied somebody up," Ellie confirms, her voice low and uninterested. Her heart's beating wildly under the surface, it always does when she's trying to do more than simple violence.

It always, always has such potential to go wrong, and she wonders if the other two know it as well as she does.

So she gives Loxley a wan smile back, her eyes hard, and ties the fisherman's hands first apart, and then together -- the way Tommy showed her, and then searches his pockets for blades. She comes up with a fillet knife and takes it, stowing it away beneath her cloak, followed by a bait knife.

The fisherman's cursing is dying off now, and he's flinching every time the deck gives a shudder. He's turned away from the carnage, only able to imagine what they're doing to his things, but he doesn't kick when Ellie straddles his waist and yanks his legs back to tie them together at the ankles.

"You wouldn't," he growls, but sounds uncertain.

[tender]

Two knives down, with potential further loss, should be motivating factors. Derrica would very much like them to.

"We will if we have to," Derrica promises, very sincere as she comes around to crouch at his head. The gentle press of her fingers, lifting scraggly hair from his face to check whether or not he's bleeding, is very sincere too. Now that they know he isn't carrying the codebook on his person, they can proceed with turning the boat upside down.

Looking from Ellie to Loxley, Derrica asks, "You don't think he came all this way and didn't bring it with him?"

Surely not. What was the point of intercepting a coded message and making an entire trip home before sending a reply?

[charmoffensive]

A box of—fuck if Loxley knows, fishing things??, is shaken, the lid of it inspected underneath, the box thumping down onto the deck once discarded. He is careful not to make the kind of mess that would make their task harder, but a show of callous disregard for property is easy enough to achieve on its own.

He'd like to not actually hurt this man. That's never felt very good to do.

"I absolutely think he did bring it with him," Loxley says. "And if we can't find it here, we should likely take the boat out for burning, just in case."

Of course, they need the book itself. Coming back with only a smoking wreckage in their wake would probably earn them a doubtful B-, maybe a C if no one's feel very generous.

Finally, he spies the man's personal belongings, a satchel tucked and secured in some shadowy recess. It could simply be his lunch and probably a wallet with a photo of his five kids or something to make everyone feel guilty, but Loxley grabs it anyway, tugging it open to start emptying it out.

[notathreat]

"If he doesn't have it, then we've gotta assume he's memorized it," Ellie says, steady and practical. "Which means they're gonna be real interested in what he has to say."

... all the more reason to not become their prisoner.

The man wriggles underneath her, turning his head to look up at Derrica as best he can. He's not bleeding, just dripping wet with sea water, and breathing hard, caught between furious and genuinely scared.

"Okay, okay-" he finally says, the words falling over themselves. "Under my hammock. There's a loose board."

"Cool," Ellie says cheerfully, and doesn't move from atop him. She flashes Derrica and Loxley a huge smile.

[tender]

A consideration for next time: maybe skip directly to intimidation.

Not to cast aspersions on Loxley's efforts at persuasion, but—

"Do you want to go check, or should I?" Derrica asks Loxley, because between the three of them Ellie seems the best candidate for keeping this man pinned. Though that being said, it would be foolish to underestimate this man when he's nearly escaped their grasp already.

Though as she says this, she seems to think better of it, and adds, "Maybe I should. I don't have any kind of magic that wouldn't terribly disfigure him if I used it."

Where a sword would only lightly disfigure him, obviously.

[charmoffensive]

The satchel and its guts are dropped it the deck once something finally gives, Loxley letting out a breath. They're not completely out of the woods, but close. He gestures for Derrica to go on ahead with a sweep of his hands, and moves back in where Ellie has the man pinned.

Shwing. Or a slighter wetter version of that sound, as Loxley pulls his rapier out from his belt. He allows a flicker of green fire to dance off the edge as he brings it around, and it's only cool metal when he rests its near-needle fine point somewhere dangerous at the side of the fisherman's neck.

"I would put less energy into wiggling around, if I were you," Loxley says, reasonably, "and more into imagining where you'd prefer to work and live once we're all through, here. Dream big."

[notathreat]

Isn't intimidation just a different, more direct method of persuasion?

Ellie leans into the hold, pinning the man so he doesn't jerk into the point of Loxley's blade, but she needn't. The man trembles in her grip, going as still as possible, but thankfully the blade doesn't even prick him.

The shimmer of green has the intended effect, and he whimpers aloud, but doesn't offer anything further.

"When's your next rendezvous scheduled?" Ellie asks, her voice still steady. "Where at?"

Even better if they can intercept that.

skip her for the next round or so if it so moves y'all

[tender]

Having made descended halfway below deck, Derrica peeps up to take in Loxley's sword and be certain Ellie still has the man in question pinned. Should either of them glance her way, there's a grin and a little wave, before Derrica resumes her descent and vanishes from sight.

[charmoffensive]

Loxley glances over to Ellie as she asks this next question, briefly assessing. They hadn't really gamed this part out—and who could tell, with how graceful and coordinated its been since they all plunged into the ocean in a mad, splashy dash—but it seems that, to at least some extent, they've brought along the right people.

All Loxley does is turn his rapier like so in a way that bores a tiny puncture into skin, a spider-bite of a wound.

And so the information comes out faster, like slimy guts on a fishing boat deck.

[notathreat]

After making sure Derrica is safely below, Ellie meets Loxley's eyes and gives a slight nod. Her greenish eyes are flinty and hard; it comes off as if she doesn't care what it takes, but in reality, she's distancing herself from what they may have to do if this man doesn't comply.

But fear is effective as fuck, and it works now.

The poor man winces away from the blade and starts giving it up, stumbling over himself as he relays the next place he's expected, and Ellie stares hard at the deck rather than the trickle of blood on his neck.

"If the info's good," Ellie says slowly, "We'll keep you out of the Venatori's hands. But if it isn't..."

She lets Loxley, or perhaps his own imagination, fill in the blank.