Nooses Tightened and Manacles Shed in Haste
Nineteenth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
Though Myr rested relatively quietly in the hands of the Dragon King for now, that was not so say there were none in the city bent on doing an ill turn to the crown, and for once they had struck upon a rather clever strategy—infiltration. Rather than match power against power, as had manifestly worked so very poorly in Lys and before that in Tyrosh, these disgruntled Myrmen, mostly the former leaders of the now outlawed slaver trade, had chosen to pool their remaining influence in the city's underworld to spread their tendrils through the burgeoning Inquisition. Against an ordinary effort of that sort it might have worked or at least in failing slow down the process of expansion. Against the foe they faced they were as children building castles in the sand waiting for the tide.
"Who is your master..." Wyla Drekelis, daughter of Braavos, mage of the seventh circle, and once hunter of an altogether darker sort asked the traitorous would-be inquisitor strapped to the chair.
"N-never," the prisoner stuttered.
"That's alright, you already thought of it," the Lady of Naath said pleasantly, getting up from her own seat. The night was still young and she had business to attend to.
Even had he known her history the prisoner would not have counted himself fortunate for having met her now and not before. After all, a vampire's bloody kiss can be a far less painful death than the hangman's noose.
Establish Inquisition Base in Myr: Complete
Gained 8,000 IM in minor confiscations
***
Many miles to the south a particular pirate whose neck was thoroughly unencumbered by any noose was sailing into the harbor of Naath, a place that in his opinion could really do with a better name before something atrociously pedestrian like 'First Port' stuck. As he was pondering the matter cheers erupted on deck at the prospect of drink and whores for the 'conquering heroes'. True they had not really conquered anything besides a new nest of the more ornery painted lizards, but that was all the better. None of them had gone south looking for glory, but instead decent ports with access to clean water and enough room to build a outpost without having to hack their way through the jungle.
Of the three they had found two-and-a-half—a place where a great river, mayhaps the size of the Mander, spilled into the sea, splitting in two branches around a rocky isle before it did. The island had few trees and none of the larger painted lizards, though it had paid host to a group of shipwrecked Myrmen driven mad by some strange fever.
Excellent Colony Location Discovered
"Check in on the poor bastards, will you, Varn?" he asked his second-in-command idly. "We are going to need to tie them up to get them to a healer."
A few minutes later the man returned with odd news: "They are gone, captain."
"Gone?" Saan sighed. "The people we put under guard in the hold in chains and manacles are
gone?"
Varn simply nodded sheepishly.
"Fuck, get the wizard on it. No one gets off this ship until we find the bastards!" the captain of the Valyrian called.
The threat was more effective than one might have thought, for within less than three hours the crewmen had discovered the truth—three of their number had been replaced by shape-shifting
things with a taste for human blood, and unfortunately for them no sea-legs, which made impersonating sailors especially problematic.
"They weren't crazy," Saan said wiping his blade off the shirt of the last corpse. "They just didn't speak our tongue in a way
we could parse out. The last folk from Essos they ate must have been from long before the Doom."
Discovered colony of Faceless Stalkers
Gained 3 Faceless Stalker corpses
OOC: That's two actions covered. I would have liked to make them more elaborate, but I just do not have the space with everything else going on.
