1.2 OiM - Spies like Us (Closed)

A ship slowly made its way through the harbor and docked at an available pier. It was an unassuming ship, a trader ship by all accounts, but two of the people on board were on a mission. It wasn't a mission of trade or mercy, but revenge. Jon and Triston were in a foreign land exacting revenge for a merchant who had been betrayed by a magister of Myr. The two Valemen cared little for the squabble but knew it was an opportunity not only for financial gain but information. The magister was involved in the Triarchy's battle in the Stepstones and any intel gained during the raid could provide favor for the current King of the Stepstones.

As the two walked down the gangplank a gruff deckhand said in a heavily accented Common tongue, "Two hours. No more." Jon simply nodded and walked into the city. The directions to the manse burned into his memory.

Triston and Jon stepped off the boat with vague intelligence on their objective. They stepped off the gangplank and onto the dock with directions to the manse, at the very least. Triston turned to Jon and raised the hood over his head as he walked. There wasn't much to say as they navigated their way through the crowds formed along the port of Myr. The Valemen were a long way from home, and Triston's brow was already wet with perspiration due to nerves and the heat.

Ser Jon had substituted his plate mail for his splint mail. What he lost in protection he gained in a little extra mobility and anonymity. Jon didn't know what passed for normal in Myr but two men from Westeros in Full plate was bound to get them noticed.

Like his friend, Jon pulled up a hood and secured a rucksack onto his back. This was a mission of vengeance. Not his or Triston's vengeance but no matter. It was going to pay well and who knew what the two might find within the manse.

When the pair reached the manse Jon was dismayed to see how well it was patrolled and there wasn't going to be an easy way in. Taking a knee in a nearby alley Jon watched the patrols and whispered to his friend, "So what do you think?"

Triston follows Jon's lead. "Can you understand anything they are saying?" The Valeman grunts, "I think going through the front door is unlikely at best." Triston had let his beard grow a bit before the trip, he didn't know if he wanted anonymity or something else. It seemed right though. It had itched him something awful, and he scratches at his chin feverishly.

Eventually, he stops going on like a dog and nods to the buildings. "We need to climb. Climb into a window and find what we're looking for. That's the only thing I see besides the front door."

"I can't understand a fucking word of their mongrel language." Jon cursed under his breath. "You're right, we won't be sneaking through and I'm assuming you aren't a mummer in training who could bluff his way past the guards." Jon's eyes darted back and forth as they watched the patrols and slowly learned their patterns.

After a few moments he began to look at the wall and agreed with his friend's assessment. " Over the wall and into the compound. I'm up for it if you are." Jon took the rucksack off his back and opened it. Inside was a hook was a length of rope attached. "I figured this would come in handy. Glad I brought it." Jon pointed over to a poorly lit section of the wall where the guards frequented less. "I'd say that's our best bet."

"Ready when you are."

"Let's go then," Triston says, he stands up and jogs over toward the wall and puts his back against it as he looks upward. "We should hurry," he says when Jon joins him. "Let's find some hand holds." He turns and starts inspecting the wall for where he can grab onto in order to climb.

Jon jogged after his friend, his weapon in its belt loop and the rope and hook in his hands. Once they reached the wall Jon looked to the left and right to confirm no guards were coming. "Fuck hand holds, I'm using this." Swinging the hook, Jon let it fly towards the top of the wall. The hook found purchase and Jon pulled on the rope to test it to make sure it was secure.

"See you at the top." Jon started up the rope at an amazing speed. It almost looked like he was sprinting up the wall as opposed to climbing a rope. [ooc]Trying to reflect the near perfect Athletics roll.[/ooc] Jon had reached the top before Triston had made it half way. "Hurry up." Jon whispered to his partner in crime. Time was going to be their enemy the whole time they were here.

Triston starts up the wall, slowly but surely. Once Jon is up, he reaches over and pulls the rope over to him and swings out to use it instead of the hand holds. He grunts, pulling himself up with his arms and pushing with his legs. Eventually, he swings his leg over and straddles the top of the wall before stepping off onto the catwalk.

He looked for a window and moved quickly toward it. Triston reaches up and peeked inside, seeing no one. "This looks as goods ever. Hope your diet has been going well."