Post #2442101 in The City of Chains, a roleplay on RPG

They were headed for shore, perhaps halfway there, when the first of the emaciated people made his way to the surface, clothed in scarcely more than thin rags and carrying an armful of what looked to be vaguely Chantry-themed gold. He got one look at Lucien, Rilien, Sparrow, and Garrath and froze, something like a deer in the face of a predator. Lucien himself held his hands up as disarmingly as possible, slowly winding a sail-rope around a hook designed for the purpose and stepping forward very slowly. “Th-the one downstairs!” the man started, pointing back towards the door he’d emerged from as if that explained everything. It perhaps explained enough. “H-he said to take what we could carry, and you would get us b-boats.”

Lucien swiftly did the mental exercise and determined what must have happened belowdecks. “Then we’ll get you a boat,” he said simply, moving to the side of the ship and grabbing the mooring rope for one of the rowboats they’d used to get here, now tied to the deck rail. “You’ll want to wrap all of that up in one bundle, if possible.” It would be much easier to drop into the boat, that way.

Several more people followed, and Lucien and the others helped them lower themselves and what they carried out into the rowboats, this time pointing out the direction of the docks and telling them where it was best for them to go ashore. He wasn’t sure how well the Alienage would handle the influx of newcomers, especially not in such bad condition, but that was a matter to deal with later. Right now, getting them into the city and away from their captivity was the important thing. Hopefully whatever valuables they’d grabbed would sell moderately well, and they could at least keep themselves for a while. He’d have to be sure to check with Nostariel and Amalia about it later…

Speaking of, the Warden and Ashton both emerged onto the upper deck just as he tossed the mooring rope for the second boat down to the people on it, and it too took off for the Kirkwallian shore. Straightening from his lean, Lucien fixed both with his single visible eye, and quirked the eyebrow over it, though the rest of his expression was grave. “I take it,” he said quietly, “that our plans have changed.”

Sparrow may have been a smidgen less useful than Lucien when it came to adopting chores aboard the vessel they'd so peculiarly-commandeered. Honestly, she'd expected much more blood. A lot more screaming and stubbornness. She'd encountered plenty of sailors, but never any pirates—and all of those stories she'd heard of fearless, merciless pirates going down with their ships, rather than surrender to a bunch of dirty landlubbers, had become unfounded in a matter of days. She couldn't help but feel disappointed. Instead of aiding Lucien with the rigging or bugging Nostariel and Ashton in the ship's bowels, Sparrow occupied her time by subtly harassing the nervous, tittering navigator and climbing the rigging like she'd been born to sail the seas. Frankly, the lack of female sailors kept her in foul spirits.

She shouldn't have been surprised to see so many slaves aboard the vessel. Where there were pirates and greedy dogs, dark dealings often followed, or so she'd been told. The ship somewhat reminded her of the one she'd recently taken under her wing; the one that belonged to the man-who-looked-like-Lucien. Speaking of which, she'd never apologized to him about that. Her outright avoidance must have made him uncomfortable. Another day, another conversation. She stood beside her companions, Garrath aside, and watched as the skeletal-figured forms halted their ascent. She, herself, no longer cut as an imposing a figure as she would have liked, but the first to emerge still jerked to a halt at the sight of them. It was what they held in their arms that was most curious. Chantry-treasure; or at least, something that looked like it belonged in the Chantry. Valuable, from the looks of it. She licked her lips and sighed halfheartedly, “Chantry goods. They would sell for a pretty penny.” She looked over her shoulder at Rilien and added, “Ashton's changed, hasn't he?” Rilien only blinked-- the question was not his to answer.

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Either way, Sparrow approved. There were women in their midst, but they shied away from her, gripping the bundles all the tighter to their chests. Entirely nonplussed, Sparrow made light conversation, casually complimenting them on their pretty eyes and hair and gentle fingers while moving what they could not carry. This, she thought, may have been what it was like to feel like a hero. Battling evildoers until they surrendered and mercifully allowing them to live. Freeing slaves and saving women and children, and then showering them with riches and giving them a place they might call home. Sparrow wouldn't have thought herself capable of performing such feats. Not willingly, anyway. Perhaps, she was the one who was changing. She clapped her hands together and watched as rowboats paddled back towards Kirkwall. Towards the Alienage. She wondered how Amalia and Aurora would fare with all of the new faces. Surely, Nostariel would be busy patching up whoever needed medical attention...

It was Lucien's voice that brought her attention back to everyone else still standing on the decks. She turned and leaned her back and elbows against one of the cannons, eyeing them. Whatever else needed to be done, she'd be there. As well as everyone else, she guessed. By the severity of Lucien's voice, she wondered what Ashton and Nostariel may have had in mind.

"Marginally," Ashton responded, though the word didn't match the gesture. He held his hands near two feet apart to indicate how marginally he meant. His hands then drifted to his lower back, where he pushed, popping his spine. He then looked out over the water towards line, gazing towards the last direction he'd seen the rowboats head. "Half of Leech's prize are on those rowboats, so chances are he isn't going to be too thrilled with that. We might have to move up the whole 'kill Leech' plan," He said all rather nonchalantly, though a smile never did find its way to his face.

Garrath himself was entirely quiet on the matter, listening intently with his arms cross and jaw set. It was as if he was bracing himself for something he knew that was coming. Hands clenched his elbows and his shoulders were squared, waiting for whatever was coming. "Oh, and before I forget," Ashton said, and the reason Garrath seemed braced became clearly apparent. Ashton rounded on his heel and smashed a heavy fist into Garrath's jaw, putting him on the ground instantly. He didn't make much of a movement to return to his feet, he just sat on the deck and waited for Ashton to vent. "I told you I was done with this! And what do you do? You don't bring me back to just steal a ship-- No, you pick one with slaves on it!" Ashton yelled, pushing his hair out of his face.

Garrath just nodded and wiped the blood that was pooling in the corner of his mouth. "Saw that coming," He accepted, but before Ashton could continue to vent or throw another punch, he continued, "But I did not see the slaves coming. This was supposed to be a simple grab-and-go." He looked around at the others gathered and finished on Ashton. "If I'd known, then I wouldn't have asked you. You think I like dealing in flesh?" Garrath asked back before shaking his head. "But if it wasn't you, could you honestly say that whoever would have replaced you would have set them free?" He asked.

Ashton winced. No, he knew the people who dealt with this line of work. None of them were as merciful or as soft as he was. Garrath had the closest thing he'd seen to a soul amongst the thieves he knew. "Then you won't mind helping us take down Leech," Ashton not so much as asked, but rather commanded. You've got me into this mess, you're going to be there when I get out, Ashton thought to himself as he held out a hand for Garrath to take. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?" He asked rhetorically, taking the offered hand back to his feet.

A look of confliction graced Ashton's face as he looked to his friends. While Garrath did not have a choice, they deserved one, but with Ashton giving the slaves the rowboats to escape he seemed to have chose for them. "I... Guess you guys don't either," Ashton said meekly. He was ashamed that he had not thought about their feelings on the matter. If there was another set of iron bars in front of him, he'd set about banging his head again. Seeing as they were absent for the time being, he just hid his forehead with his hand. "I'm sorry... For everything. For dragging you all back into my past. You all deserve better than that," He said. The fact that he knew each of them would willingly help him only made it worse.

"I'll make this up to you all, I promise," He said. He had to try and make it right. That was the only thing he could do anymore.

"Unnecessary,” Rilien replied, referring to both the apology itself, as well as the promise to repay them. He had taken this job with the implicit understanding that he would not be monetarily compensated for it—he saw no reason to change his tune now. If they had to kill slavers and thugs, well… Rilien was certainly not going to weep over such deaths. Even had he been capable of the necessary remorse, he would have been too busy disliking the people he was killing to feel sorry for them. As it was, this was merely another obstacle in the way of the mission’s completion. Like all the others, it would be surmounted, probably with a lot of blood involved.

"Rilien’s right,” Nostariel added, faintly surprised that she had cause to agree with the Tranquil on anything, but definitely with him on this one all the same. "We’re your friends. That's why we’re here, and I’m sure none of us object to doing the right thing and dealing with this Leech and his gang.” She couldn’t imagine anyone here having a problem with what they were going to do, not even the recently-hit Garrath. She might have been a bit less sympathetic towards him than she could be, but she did not think him a monster, not by a long shot. A little inconvenience was a small price to pay for the help they’d be giving their friend and the city. It was simply inconceivable that someone should refuse to do it. Lucien nodded as well-- it was obvious what they had to do here, and it was really what he'd been inclined to do from the start. It certainly didn't demand any apologies. As always, Sparrow agreed. Dealing with scumbags had become a bit of a hobby of hers (and Garrath needed a good punch in the chompers). Whatever still needed doing—needed to be done promptly. If it helped Ashton get out of all of these shady dealings, as well, then it was well worth it. She flashed him a grin, shrugged her shoulders and said, “Until the end.” She would not forget, regardless of their friendship, that she owed him much.

"Well, that's settled then. Still wish I had options," Ashton said, shooting a glare at Garrath, who in turn took a tentative step back. He had already taken one hook, he wasn't about to risk another. All enthusiam that he might had feigned had been drained out of him, and now he viewed the job as just that. A job that needed to be done. He shook his head and pointed at the helm, "Take us to the meeting spot while he hatch out a plan of attack," He told Garrath. He nodded and turned, taking his place back at the helm, grateful to be out of Ashton's reach.

Once he was sure Garrath was steering them in a direction other than backward, he turned back to his friends and shrugged slightly. "I'm not going to lie and sugarcoat it, this is probably going to be difficult. Like I said before, two dozen of his best buddies, and in tight quarters to boot. Not to mention the bastard is a blood mage," He mentioned offhandedly before pausing. He paused for a beat, letting what he just said filter through his own ears. A moment later was accompanied by a mouthed curse and and closing of his eyes. "I might have accidently forgot that part-- why the hell is it always a blood mage? Why not a normal one?" Ashton asked Nostariel, before scanning the rest of them.

He rolled his eyes at himself and drove forward, tucking that bit of information away for later. "Anyway," he exaggerated the word's length as he continued, "it's going to be a party, is what I'm saying. Maybe we can use the quarters to our advantage, but still. I don't like those odds," Ashton said, crossing his arms and migrating toward the railing, upon which he said. "We should even them up, yes?" He said thoughtfully. "Any suggestions?" He asked curiously.

Rilien considered it, folding his arms into his sleeves and staring straight ahead at some point over the horizon. "Sabotage,” he offered after a bit of deliberation. "Poison or acid or a smokescreen, if they are available. The close quarters will make it difficult to escape any such effects, and we can wait until the resultant fumes have mostly dissipated before entering. Anyone with the ability to hit multiple targets at once should take the first round of attacks, then step aside and allow shorter-range combatants to actually enter first.”

Nostariel wasn’t the most fond of using poison or acid, but she could see the merit in the plan. "So… that would probably be Rilien and Ash with the chemicals, then myself and Sparrow with mass-targeted offensive magic. I suspect after that, we let Lucien in and follow him.” She smiled a bit apologetically at her knight friend, but he was by far the most durable of the lot of them, even if he wasn’t wearing full plate at the moment. The plan thus far would require a lot of stealth of the first two, a lot of speed and judgement from the second, and a lot of courage from Lucien. Those traits, she thought, were at least playing to their strengths. "Once things actually get down to it, though, I don’t think there’s a lot of planning we can do. We’ll have to work together as well as we can and react to what the situation gives us.”

Lucien waved off Nostariel’s glance—apologies were not necessary. He knew there were advantages to being as large and strong as he was, and subtlety was not one of them. Being able to get in the way of a lot of people simultaneously was. He could hardly expect to be asked to play to his weaknesses rather than his strengths, and he preferred to be useful, regardless. Rilien’s strategy was sound, and though quite a bit depended on his ability to do what was being asked of him, he wasn’t worried about it any more than he needed to be. He was good at what he did, and he knew that much. He’d simply have to dig in his heels and do it. As a military commander, he had drilled strategies akin to this one before, though they were not usually so heavily-reliant on subterfuge. Still, one worked with the resources that one had, and it just so happened that this was the way the personnel was arranged.

“It’s fine by me,” he said simply. “Just point me where you want me to block, and I’ll block.”

Ashton chewed his lip for a moment before shrugging, "Sounds like more of a plan than we usually have. This whole "ambush" thing is a new experience," Ashton said with the intended air quotations. He then paused and reflected on what he had just said, flipping his hand through the air as he did. "Well. Not new. I can't wake up in the morning without walking into one. It's new being the ambusher rather than the ambushee," And just like that, the word ambush was beginning to lose all meaning on account of how many times he used it.

"So that settles it then. After we're done, we can sing sea shanties all the way home. Does anyone know the "Drunken Sailor?" Ashton asked enthusiastically.

Snippet #2442101

located in Kirkwall, a part of The City of Chains, one of the many universes on RPG.

Setting

Characters Present

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