faderift | [CLOSED] SAFE HARBOR

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[CLOSED] SAFE HARBOR

WHO: Edgard, Gwenaëlle, Glimmer, Holden, Abby, Derrica, Darras, Gabranth, Flint
WHAT: Destroying the defenses blocking entrance to Val Chevin's harbor.
WHEN: Now
WHERE: Val Chevin
NOTES: Thrills, chills and spills; please cw in your subject lines if applicable.

Intelligence deciphered thanks to a a signal book recovered from a Venatori agent abroad has revealed that the entrance to Val Chevin's harbor is guarded by a series of buoyant underwater traps which, when sufficiently jostled on their tethers, will activate and release an explosion of elemental magic designed to destroy any unregulated shipping. If there's to be any hope of ever approaching the city by sea, these defenses must be punctured.

Fortunately, there is a point playing very narrowly in Rftwatch's favor. The beauty of Val Chevin's harbor, and the feature which makes it so desirable as both a trading port and shipyard, is its deep waters. This has historically made Val Chevin difficult to effectively block. You would have to sink a considerable amount of stacked detritus at the harbor's entrance to interfere with the passage of most trading vessels. This means that breaking a few ships on Tevinter's mines and letting the flotsam go where it will is unlikely to cause more problems than it solves.

—Which all sounds very pretty on paper. In practice, the prospect is unbelievably dangerous given the bare facts: someone is going to have to sail those ships into those mines.

But that's the very last problem anyone has to worry about. Before getting to a potentially explosive, fiery death, Riftwatch has to actually get close enough to the traps to effectively trip them.

Three poorly conditioned Antivan merchant ships—acquired by Riftwatch in recent trade—have been hastily restored to appear as active trading vessels. They've retained their Antivan colors and heraldry. When the Walrus, Riftwatch's resident combat-equipped (pirate) ship, is seen chasing them into Val Chevin's harbor, it will appear to anyone watching as if they are a convoy of desperate merchant sailors attempting to escape being captured or destroyed only to tragically run headlong into the harbor's defenses.

In a further effort to disguise the ruse, the three merchant ships each have a few special passengers: a few dozen corpses retained from the recent skeleton war in the Gallows who, now that they've been more or less stripped of their red lyrium, will make for convincing proof of casualties to anyone poking around in the aftermath.

With all this in mind, Flint has assigned the following duties:

FORWARD SCOUTS - Holden and Edgard, riding a griffons. They will approach Val Chevin at sunset, a few hours prior to the arrival of the convoy. Their orders are to attempt to observe and report the placement of the underwater mines and note any additional defenses which may interfere with the efforts. They must approach from the South. Should they be spotted or attacked by defenses from the city (the probability seems high), they must be seen fleeing toward the Orlesian army encampment. Once night falls, they can skedaddle back to the Walrus by griffon and rejoin the convoy.

CAPTAINS - Darras, Derrica, and Gwenaëlle. Each of the three merchant ships will need to be sailed directly into the minefield at night. While it's not particularly technically work (and each ship will have a minimum crew of to assist in the initial travel), Darras, Derrica, and Gwenaëlle will be responsible for ensuring each ship makes the correct final approach before bailing at the last possible moment.

CREW - Glimmer, Abby, and Gabranth will each be assigned as seconds and support to the aforementioned captains. They'll be responsible for overseeing the effective evacuation of the three sacrificial ships and helping with any last minute course correction. Should something catastrophic happen and a captain be unable to do their job, they're responsible for guaranteeing their assigned ships successfully trips a mine.

RESCUE EFFORTS & DEFENSIVE MANEUVERS - Everyone, but Holden and Edgard can utilize their griffons once the pyrotechnics die down and there's no risk of being illuminated by an explosion. There will be a brief period where the Walrus may stray in range of the city's defenses (think: ballistas and magic) during the recovery efforts. While the Walrus will do its best to stay long enough to fetch everyone back, but if someone wants to be dramatically assumed dead and left behind only to wash up on the coast and end up in the care of the Orlesian Army, now's your opportunity.

In true Riftwatch fashion, nothing can be completely simple. Mapping underwater traps and sailing in the dark is an inherently risky business that's as much luck as skill. Despite their best efforts and through no real fault of their own (though feel free to have your characters feel guilty if you want to), whichever ship Abby ends up on will suffer a glancing blow by an unexpected mine on the way into the harbor. It won't be enough to destroy the ship, which risks exposing the whole charade. Steering the ship into a second mine or guaranteeing it is in some way sabotaged by other means before it drifts further into the harbor will require some derring-do from both her and her assigned captain (and anyone else who might somehow be in a position to scramble to assist them).

(ooc: Feel free to thread as much or as little of the action/your assignments as you like. The general intent is to give everyone a smorgasbord of prompts to pick from and enough detail/guidance to color your play with rather than make anyone feel shackled to their tasks. Think of this as a party mingle log, except instead of dancing and witty repartee it's explosions and the threat of drowning. For this reasons, assignments and pairings have been left purposefully vague.

If you have any questions, want any additional information or want me to inflict crew to captain match-ups on you then, please hit me up in the questions thread below. Otherwise, feel encouraged to make up details and complications. The only requirements are that they don't blow the cover story and that all three ships successfully end up mine'd.)

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(ooc: need additional info/want something from me? Fling your requests here and I'll do my best to provide.)

I: OH CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN

“Are you satisfied with our present course?” Asked on approach, armored boots digging into wood with every drawn-out step.

The night is dark, and even the twin moons provide little in the way of light. The stars, however....

Those are unmistakable. Unmissable. Countless and so close-knit that they seem near enough to touch. For that, perhaps it is all the more difficult to pinpoint within their span the necessary constellations. The ones that might spell the difference between success and failure.

“Can you see well enough to maintain it?”

IA: CRYSTAL;

[When he is done tending to the needs of his ship, he calls over the crystals:]

How fare you and yours? Any sign of trouble from the shore?

II: DISASTER

Off course. That is the first thought that enters Noah’s mind when he hears the puncturing boom (and subsequent pop of displaced water and wood) in the midst of their pitch dark approach. Someone misjudged the alignment. Incorrectly mapped the harbor. Failed to scout properly at night—

But no, if that were true, the other ships would no doubt be drifting straight into violent collisions of their own.

In a few heavy strides across a groaning deck, Gabranth draws himself to the edge nearest to Abby’s ship, hurriedly winding a length of rope around his own ship’s railing before lifting it high at his back.

“Quickly! We must bind them— ”

If her ship remains whole, stilling listlessly in the water and unable to press on, they will be undone. If it does not suffer another blow from a nearby mine or make it properly to harbor, they will be undone.

His raised hand shifts by degrees, and then with momentum, he throws the rope across the churning waters between ships.

If fortune favors them, she will catch it.

III: DENOUMENT

They have done all that can be done. Timing is what remains: the hurried shuffle between griffon and lifeboat and the Walrus itself, a rush to ensure no one is caught in the impending detonations.

But the rigging is loose. One of the ships seems— in those final moments— at risk for veering off its intended course.

One planted firmly in the lifeboat, the other on the ship’s rotted ladder, dipping along with the sway of the ink dark waves beneath them.

“Glimmer.” He snaps, glancing to his side.

There is no time left. Yet it cannot stay as it is. They cannot let it be as it is.

“How quickly can you secure those lines.”

IV: WILDCARD
[ooc: feel free to threadjack/leap in on any of these, even the situational ones, or snag me for something adjacent to these (ie just a remix of it or something happening simultaneously, however you want to play it I'll match). Or just make something new! Seriously I'll run with anything here.]

[ over the sound of the wind: ]

Well, no one's shooting at us yet.

A truth that could change at any moment. Be wary, Captain.

[There is some small irony in using that title now, when Holden is the one in flight, rather than taken charge of a vessel, but Gabranth is not the one to make that joke.

Or any joke.

Ever.]

If there is an easy target to be seen amongst our number, it is you: spread wings against the stars themselves would be nigh unmistakable to keen eyes.

You think so? That hadn't occurred to me.

[ don't worry, jim's here to provide jokes. ]

How's it looking down there?

Edited (repetition ) 2021-11-29 21:26 (UTC)

“I only wear the glasses to read,” is the sort of dry joke that lands better if Gabranth has ever (as he likely has not) actually had the occasion to witness Gwenaëlle poring over books and paperwork with her thin, gold-rimmed reading glasses. As it is, probably slightly undermining his confidence in her current work.

Not that she doesn't seem confident in their current work.

“I know where I'm going. Is everyone off the ship yet?”

[An irritated noise meets that joke. Apparently Gabranth’s not sharing his own sense of humor tonight.]

Dark. Sightless. I cannot discern which constellations we are meant to follow, nor our current path.

It would have been a far simpler task, were we capable of performing this mission in waning daylight.

“Not yet.”

Time wanes, and though his chosen path to question their course may indeed seem insulting, in truth, he defers to her judgment: if she thinks their course true, so does he.

If she demands the ship be cleared, it will be done.

“Ought I give word.”

A question, phrased flat as always, his stern attention fixed on her from over the rise of her shoulder.

Edgard sits back relaxed in his saddle as the sky turns a lovely orange. He sighs in the breeze.

"Don't mind scouting too much." He hollers back at Holden. "If it's like this, take this job every time."

He checks his compass and waves it at Holden, partially to show him that he's using his gift and partially to show that they're going the right way.

"Did anyone tell us how we're supposed to see something underwater from high up?"

Does it count as a rise when it's possible for them to stand at such angles as would see her shoulder outside of his peripheral vision. Food for thought.

“Do,” is brief, and in a not dissimilar tone. “If they're not off soon, they're either giving the game away or going down with the ship.”

...unideal outcomes, both, but it's fair to say that she does sound like the former would concern her more pressingly.

It'd be far simpler for them to see what we're doing, too.

[ he points out, though he knows gabranth knows. ]

Be careful, [ he says, a thread of worry becoming audible. ] Between the two of us, you've got the more dangerous job.

Truth be told, this is his first mission on griffonback.

But he doesn't show it, seems comfortable enough in the air with Buggie's wings beating at each side, the wind tugging at his hair and clothes. Heights have never been a problem for him; he'd been climbing apple trees as far back as his earliest memories, and training for space travel would've cured any last fears he might've had. And griffon riding isn't, in principle, all that different from riding a horse.

Just a lot more klicks to fall if they're shot, really.

He offers Edgard a smile, then calls back, "Their own boats will be avoiding the mines. If we can map the patterns of sailing, we can see what areas they aren't going into." A beat, and, "If we're lucky, we might be able to see them from up here."

There'd been some mention of a brightness from deep within the water that might only be visible from above. They'll have to see.

It's been a long, fraught, and tense bit of sailing but they've mostly done it. They have their ships on course and they're about to push away in their little lifeboat--then Gabranth snaps her name. She looks up from where she's adjusting herself to push off with an oar, follows his gaze upwards towards the rigging. Exhales.

"I can be quick--" she says and gets to her feet, balances in the swaying, bobbing little boat. THere's a flicker of pink-white light and a flash of sparkles and she vanishes, only to reappear, clinging to the rigging. That saves her some time scrambling up the ladder and across the deck, at least. That done, she sets to climbing, grim and determined as she tries to hurry--but also be mindful that she doesn't set her foot in a rotten line.

No, not yet. But I imagine there'll be some difficulty when we get closer to our mark.

Are you ready for that possibility? Trouble?

"So you're telling me we're looking for the ocean that does not have sailboats in it?"

Edgard cocks his head to one side and leans close over the saddle looking down, the wings just missing him. Sunbeam graciously maneuvers to account for this.

"That seems like...most of it?"

He sighs. He's not trying to be difficult.

"Trust you, but this seems like a lot of guesswork."

I have always been prepared for it.

Always will I remain so. A judge Magister knows nothing else.

[Well, save for the other things he does actually know, but that’s less dramatic, and all Final Fantasy characters are obligated to be 400% dramatic by default so.]

I only regret that I’ll not be at your side to safeguard you from the worst, should it come to that.

[All said, perhaps he should not have brought a full set of armor to this mission.]

[Even with that knowledge, Gabranth is...stubborn. His preferred approach would indeed be open. Blatant. Vicious and cutting to the last man standing, consequences be damned.

But that is not the sort of strategy this plan calls for, preliminary in its nature, and thus he simply....

All right, he’s just growling about it. It annoys him.]

I find that difficult to believe. These boats offer little in the way of protection, yet you are fully exposed in your work.

It would be lamentable, to lose a griffon in such a fashion.

[All right, maybe he did bring a little humor to the table.]

He does as he is bid, first and foremost. Moves across the ship to make ready the lifeboats and signal the griffons without question— though limited as their resources and options remain, it will prove difficult to time perfectly. Dangerous, though they have always known the risks.

When he returns to her side, he stands directly at her side rather than behind her this time. Better for frank conversation. Less shielded. More direct.

“You ought depart as well, soon enough.”

It is said, flat and without inflection, from a place of near-tangible concern.

He follows suit, albeit with far less glittering (which is a shame because he’s a Final Fantasy character, you'd think that would be his thing), clambering up onto the deck at pace, heavy armor tilting the ship’s lean by barely noticable degrees in roughened surf. No time is spared when he hurries to brace a lower portion of line, attention set high on a knotted tangle of rope rattling in the wind just beneath the mast’s peak, keeping the line too slack. One strong gust there could easily knock her from her footing, should she opt to climb high enough to untangle it—

And in his own regalia, all weighted lines of cast metal, he remains more likely to crumble rotting wood rather than scale it with sufficient ease.

[ he gets a laugh for that, brief but brimming with mirth. ]

We'd be lost, [ holden agrees, ] without Buggie.

[ he looses one of his hands long enough to give her a pat on the head, and she makes a pleased sound audible even over the crystals. ]

But I'm also not the one planning on crashing into anything.

"We're looking," he corrects, "for the parts of the harbor they avoid. There's a difference."

The routes they take, and don't take — reliably — can be revealing. If they're lucky, they'll be able to pick up on a pattern before the sun sinks completely.

Glimmer has no fear of heights. Being able to teleport yourself to safety on instinct since you were a kid takes that healthy fear right out of you, after all. She scrambles up the rigging, moving faster than she thought she ever could. The months of training and work here in Thedas have taken off some of the baby fat she still had and filled her out with firmer muscle. It's good. As she sets her foot into one line, it snaps and she has to cling tightly to the other ropes for a moment before she can set herself back to climbing.

She manages to set her hands on the first line and begins to lash it back into place, trying her best to remember the knots she'd learned back during the summer.

Easier to do it then, with the sun shining and without the cutting autumn seabreeze.

There is much you do not plan for that meets you regardless, Captain Holden. [Gabranth warns in turn, delibrate in delivery.]

Be mindful of that.

It is impressive, her effort. More so than much of Riftwatch, he thinks. The fearlessness displayed. The surety in her efforts. If fate favors them, the task will be done in mere moments, and they'll have safely leapt to the smaller craft they'd left behind.

And then a nearby ship strikes its first mine.

The sound is near-concussive, waves riding sidelong as a gust of vicious wind slams hard into the sails and all its attached rigging: her fingers are still to the ropes— to keep the worst from striking her, Gabranth yanks back against the line with every ounce of strength he can spare, friction burning at the edges of his gloves. The ship is rocking sideways, the ocean furious rather than calm. Against the slickness of that deck, his footing slips only by centimeters.

But he cannot keep it held like this for long.

No plan survives contact with the enemy. [ said like a recitation, something heard and spoken more than once. ] I know. If it comes to it, we'll improvise.

[There is a part of him inclined to believe Jim Holden will always be forced to improvise. That he is fated to ruin the way Gabranth is fated to betray all he holds dear. Cyclical patterns. Woven tapestries of the lives they'd never have chosen to lead.

But those who meet what they are given are ever spared by the knowledge the ones the leave behind will not suffer.

That they might have something better for themselves in time.]

How is your shard.

[ if he sighs, it's at least none too audible over the rush of wind.

patiently, ]

It's no worse than before. It feels exactly the same, except now I can zap people with it.

[ "zap" is the official research division word, definitely. ]

[Dictionary entry for zap: 1 definition now added.]

And there is no strain from it in the aftermath of each attempt made? No pain?

Not much. And it doesn't last.

[ which seems to him about what he should expect. closing rifts feels strange, almost to the point of pain, no matter how many times he does it. there's a weird kind of exertion to using the shard. ]

I haven't needed to use it since that night in the Gallows.

"Suppose so."

Edgard nods and puffs out his cheeks a little. He observes Holden observing the harbor and attempts to mimic him.

There are a long few minutes in which there is silence and Edgard looks at the ships below him. He then fidgets with his saddle for a few moments. After nothing has happened for about ten minutes, Edgard directs Sunbeam to start lazily drifting in a circle around Buggie.

[Good. Heartening, that news, if nothing else. He'll not beat Holden with worry, and so this— barring any further incident— will hopefully be the last mention of it on Gabranth's own part.]

Then I pray tonight grants you no cause to.

But if it does, [The slowest, driest pause imaginable living in the silence lingering there.]

Do not aim it at me.

[ with amusement, ]

I'll see what I can do.

Edited 2021-12-15 18:11 (UTC)

"Fuck, Glimmer says as the vessel is rocked by wind and swell and she almost misses her footing. She manages to cling to the line she's tying and sways far outwards for a moment before she can haul herself back in, heart pounding. She finishes the knot and tugs at it to make sure it's secure before reaching out to the next line and starting the process of lashing it in place. This one is more hurried and she manages to get it done much faster in spite of shaking, cold fingers and rising anxiety. She looks downwards at the deck which seems so very small and distant and dark. There. The line is in place and the ship will go on.

"GO!" She yells down at the deck and begins to clamber downwards, still struggling to find her footing on the maddeningly unstable vessel. If she's not careful, she might well miss a step...

Go, she says, and in that moment there’s a split second decision to be made: to listen to her (sensible) urging, ensuring that only one of them might be immediately lost in the rush to disembark, knowing full well what the potential damage two deaths might do to Riftwatch’s already meager assets—

Or remain. And see her through to safety as best as can be managed, rather than leaving her behind with no more than a handful of seconds at most before deathly impact. The ship is on course. It will meet its goal with or without them.

They are not deep friends. They know so much and so little of one another. Allies in name and deed, yet the line between that and companion stretches long. He has no true reason to stay.

But he does.

Arms outstretched should she fall. Waiting to shelter her should the worst come to pass—

Which it then does.

The detonation violent, breaking across the bow of the ship, shattering it instantly and rippling the rest of the boat with violent aftershocks.

She can teleport again, but it's so inexact compared to what it used to be--and if she misses, her choices are the frigid sea or the doomed ship. The instinct to simply do it is strong but she resists. Scrambles down the line as fast as she can go, the deck coming closer and closer and it becomes less a postage stamp and more of a firm reality as she finally thinks she might make it--

The world shatters and she finds herself flung from the rigging into open space. She has never been afraid of heights. She has never feared falling. There's a startled sound as she tumbles into open air. She twists a little to look down at Gabranth and the swiftly approaching deck. On instinct she stretches out an arm and there's a twist of reality and a flurry of light and sparkles and she appears practically on top of Gabranth, slamming into him as the ship begins to shake itself apart.

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[CLOSED] SAFE HARBOR

QUESTIONS?

OTA | I don't want to think about how late this is

IA.

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i. captaincy.

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Scouting Party!!!! for Holden

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III

ia.

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puts a bow on this

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