Summer Isles Expedition: Zalaman's Tent

[Poach]

Zalaman strode into his tent, followed by the agents who had agreed to sneak into Lotus Port. The task was not hard, as Lotus Port was not unlike every other major port in Westeros or Essos: teeming with men and women of every skin colour, religion, profession and purpose one could think of.

He rounded on the followers, looking each in the eyes.

"Lotus Port. It is well defended, my friends. Strong walls, many loyal to Jalabhar, including much of the royal court."

He sighed.

"You will go there. Find a cart, something, get inside unsuspected. A ship would be better. Perhaps go to Last Lament with the forces that seize there and acquire the most Westerosi-looking ship present."

He handed each a letter, all with the same address written on it.

"Take this to the address upon it, there you find a loyalist to Julukati. A merchant, big house. He will provide you your missions, he knows the circumstances of the city best."

* * *

OOC: RP getting to the city as you wish. You can assume you get hold of a ship at Last Lament before we RP the city falling if you want. 99% sure it won't actually repulse the Westerosi attack. This thread will be your quest thread. Mods will play various NPCs and do any rolls necessary.

[Zethira]

Jehaine took a deep breath, steeling both her mind and her confidence for what she was about to do. Getting into Lotus Port would be the hardest part, though she had her doubts on whether looping around Last Lament would be the best option. After all, it was vital that she arrive before word of Last Lament's fall, though getting past the gates would be the most important part.

- "I'll take a fast horse to try to stay ahead of the army and pose as someone fleeing for the safety of the walls. Once word reaches them that Last Lament will have fallen the Port will be guarded."

Upon accepting the letter she went to do just that. First, she headed to Melara's tent to tell her of the plan, handing her her armor and weapons so she could pose as her during her absence, while bringing Melara's long knife with her for protection. She would then take Melara's own horse, a light breed built for speed the Outriders were trained for, and set off in the direction of Lotus Port. With her having a mount and lightly packed as she was -- most of her pack consisting of food and water -- she would have no trouble staying ahead of the Westerosi army, with its heavy infantry slowing it down. With luck, she could even reach Lotus Port before Jalabhar's own reinforcements, able to sneak in before the order to reinforce the guard could be given. If she were to pose as a civilian, most important however would be her ability to avoid getting caught up in any army, Julukati or Jalabhar.

OOC: Planning to make a small detour heading to Lotus Port, aiming for the lcav vs. hinf speed advantage to arrive before Jalabhar's forces.

[Poach]

[ooc: Just waiting for Wheatley.]

[Zethira]

OOC: Wheatley, you don't have any lcav, so feel free to borrow one of my Outrider's horses for RP purposes.

[Wheatley]

After following the man inside and waiting for his turn to speak he said, "I will be taking a merchant vessel into the city. The Arbor and Oldtown are two main trader partners of these Isles, so I am sure to find a few Reachmen inside the city." Petyr took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. The heat was unbearable here.

[Axis Sunsoar]

Duncan Tarly strolled into the tent, watching the others leave. He leaned in to Zalaman "Any chance they'll succeed?"

[Poach]

Axis: "Yes." said Zalaman slowly, looking out the tent into the distance, "Lotus Port has many Westerosi, but they will be suspects with the landing of this army. Not easy, their task, but if they slip through the net and are careful of the watchful eyes upon them, they will not be caught. Julukati has friends in the city, they will shield these Westerosi, but only if they are careful."

* * *

Lotus Port, nightfall

The city was calm, oddly calm for a nation at war, though Jalabhar's defeat had not travelled to the settlement yet. Doubtless it would soon, his army could not be far from arriving in the city. Fortunately for the two Westerosi spies, this meant their presence in the city, for a precious day or two, would not be subject to any additional scrutiny.

Both spies arrived at nightfall, perhaps on the same day, perhaps not. Each had been given a letter with an address on it, some house deep within the city reportedly home to one of Julukati's loyalists.

The spies moved through the city, acting as naturally as they could, projecting to all the world that they were simply one of the many foreign sailors, merchants or adventurers visiting the city on that particular warm night. Arriving in the courtyard that was home to the address, they were confronted with horror. The address was nothing but rubble, charred rubble. The house had burned down, somehow. Accident or on purpose, their sole contact within the city was missing. Now what? Risk seeking out other supporters? Decide their own mission? Leave the city before Jalabhar's army sealed the gates and left them inside the walls without any friends?

The night was growing darker.

* * *

You have these choices:
- Leave the city before you're trapped.
- Stay, and take the risk of being trapped inside without allies or support, and do whatever you want.
--- You can try to scout the city and look for whatever you feel is important.
--- You can try to locate allies to Julukati, though risk speaking to the wrong people.
--- You can try to locate Westerosi allies from among the transient Westerosi populace. Naturally Tyrell will have a far easier time of this than Jehaine.
--- Turncloak?
--- Or anything else you feel is reasonable. I'm willing to improvise for anything sensible you do.

[Zethira]

Jehaine hadn't seen Petyr during her approach of the city, much to her relief having evaded encountering any scouting parties along the way. Either Jalabhar was confident in his ability to stay ahead of Julukati during his retreat, or simply did not believe the enemy would send spies to infiltrate the very settlement he had planned to make a stand in, the bulwark of his support. To be entirely honest, there were moments where she had doubted her own sanity for volunteering to this mission, soon overtaken by a small dustcloud on the horizon that could either mean desert wind, a traveler like herself or a scouting patrol to be avoided. It was almost a relief to have passed the gates of Lotus Port, the most dangerous part of her mission still ahead of her but a brief respite in constantly having to be on her guard, at least up until the moment what remained of Jalabhar's forces would arrive.

She had seen the address on the letter, memorizing it so that she would not need to pull it out until the moment the merchant would request it of her. Second street to the right... now to the left... and the building should be around the co--

Her breath caught in her throat and a surge of panic gripped her as she saw the charred remnants of a house, the house that had the same address as the one she was supposed to meet the merchant in. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she forced herself to keep walking, only sparing the ruins a cursory glance as if she was looking at something she had seen several times before. The houses next to it would provide clues however, if they remained untouched by the blaze that had claimed the house she had intended to visit then it would confirm her suspicions that the merchant had been found out by Jalabhar's supporters. Perhaps he had been caught, perhaps he had been able to flee, but either way he would be needing what little protection he still had left to survive long enough for Julukati to come and free him.

As she passed the house, her mind raced. She would no longer be claiming to be a trading partner to the merchant. In fact, any connection she had to him would need to be denied, or Jalabhar's men would come after her next. Before anything though, she needed a job to pay for food and a roof over her head. At this hour however most businesses were closed, and traders held too much influence to be able to afford knocking on the wrong doors. Maybe... Yes, she had worked in the kitchens of her father's Keep for a while as a scullery maid when she was young, when her half-brother had still lived. She had helped cooks make dishes in the kitchens, and still remembered enough of what she had seen to hopefully make up for the language barrier that existed upon these islands. She could apply that knowledge to working in a tavern, given that at this hour they would be filling up with sailors off-duty for the night and traders celebrating the closure of business deals. She would also be in a position to listen to rumor. A pity the castle was still too far out of reach, but while it would be the most ideal place to spy on the enemy, given the circumstances she didn't doubt she would stick out like a sore thumb.

With nothing else to go by, she started walking around the city, in search of taverns that looked busy enough to not mind a couple of extra hands, at least for the night. Given that Westerosi were not an uncommon sight in the city, there would be Inns where not knowing the local language was not as bad as not knowing the Trade Tongue its patrons ordered their drinks in. There would be a chance she would still be able to make something out of this apparent mess, and once she had gotten herself settled she could continue on her mission with what she hoped would only be a minor delay.

[Wheatley]

Petyr looked at the note once more, swapping in disbelieving eyes between the ruins and the paper he held. The ship that'd carried him here had already left him in this foreign city. A city of hostiles which spoke in a tongue that he had little understanding for. And soon an army of them would be here, surely to feast on his flesh if he was found. The books he had read on the language had been almost useless when most of the inhabitants spoke in heavy dialects.

Tyrell tried recalling the city map. He needed to find the docks. Perhaps his fellow Reachmen would help? But should he tell them his identity or pose as a merchant? Traders held not as much loyalty to noble families as knights did, but they were far more easily lured with promises of coin. He had gold on him, enough to maybe hire some assistance or purchase some information on Jula-whatever his name was.

The hood covered his ears once more and he wandered off. Any city at nighttime was a deathtrap for the lonely rich, as reminded by the night black men that raised an eyebrow at the pale foreigner. Though he eventually had made it to the docks, it was too late at night for being out. They’re either in their bed or in the taverns. But always careful, he did not want to walk from corner to corner. Petyr tried to look somewhat familiar to the city to any eyes that were watching. Then he saw a silver haired young lad sitting by a large vessel. A Lyseni perhaps, sitting on guard whilst his mates were out drinking. Valyrian was not uncommon to Petyr, which he was thankful for. Tyrell neared the man and spoke in a broken High Valyrian.
“Hello. Thirst, cold. Look friends.”
“What?” The boy asked. He had almost risen from his seat.
“Eh… Westerosi,” Petyr made a drinking motion. The boy understood and whilst rambling incomprehensibly he pointed to a small door leading to a cellar. Tyrell smiled and casually walked to the corner-club.
The door opened and he took one big step inside. The bartender was leaning over and chatting with a red-haired girl. The man had thick arms, long blonde hair and a clean shaven face marked by a pointy chin.

The man looked uninterested at first, but looked at him more closely when he had showed his pale skin.
“You from the Seven Kingdoms?”
“Aye, glad to find a fellow countryman here.” Petyr responded with relief
“We got some fine ale from the Stormlands if you want it?” Petyr was just about to deny and ask for wine instead. But wine was a bit too fine for this place and even if they had it, he did not want to stand out.
“Yes, ale will be good.” The cup was filled with the brown liquid and placed before him. Tyrell had never drank this before. It was a beverage for Northmen, Ironmen and peasants, not noble boys of Highgarden. He sipped it. He swallowed. Disgusting.

Petyr looked over his shoulders, displaying mild interest in the other guests. Four men from King’s Landing were playing dice in a corner, hooting when they won, cursing in enough words to fill a book when they lost. The club was almost filled with crewmen from both Lannisport, Plankytown, Gulltown and Oldtown. Their dialects marked them out. The ones who caught his ear were five thick bald men who’d come on an Oldtown vessel a week ago. They had toasted to house Hightower, their king and the Summer Islander god of love a few times. After determining if they were trustworthy enough Tyrell hopped off his seat and took one secure step into a large shoulder. Petyr was knocked back into the bar desk.
“Watch it!” Sneered a large Salt-Dornishman
“My apologies, I…”
“A Manderboy? Gods be good. It never ends. Everywhere I turn there’s at least one of you whoresons perfuming yourself and drinking bottled piss.” The Dornishman slurred.
“Watch your tongue Dornish!” A voice called. Fists were being clenched on both sides. Though there were more men of the Reach in the inn than anyone else, boys from King’s Landing still held the attack on the city in mind when they rose to stand on the Dornishmen’s side. The situation was dire. If a fight broke out, the guards would be summoned and detain everyone here. He raised his hands, trying to drown out the thunder of insults hurled across the cellar. But with the meek voice he had it was in vain. One empty glass came from the valiant men of Oldtown and the Arbor and soon the sides charged each other with fire in their eyes.