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

[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.