AbyssalRoadTrip
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Abyssal Road Trip - 235 - Lie to me
🕑 Added 2022-09-29 01:28:08 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - Culerzic
The form and clothing had been the most comfortable part of her preparations, and Amdirlain pushed herself to stop procrastinating.
Steading herself, she recalled Viper’s taunting words and twisted desires. She distilled years of snipping and provocations down and fed the attitude behind them into a False Mind. As it bloomed into life, the simulated awareness sneered at the simple furnishing about her until Amdirlain’s gaze fell on the weapon she’d prepared for a demonic cover.
A brutal black kopis hung unsheathed from a weapon rack. Sung of an Adamantine alloy instead of the pure metal, she’d added a cruelly jagged striking edge. Its steak knife edge had longer spikes randomly placed, making it more fitting for hacking blows than slashing attacks.
[Kopis of Butchery
Melee Attack Power: +293
Crafter: {unclaimed}
Details: Wounds inflicted by this weapon counter the first 193 points of regeneration or healing applied to the target.]
Securing it across her back with a harness, Amdirlain doubled checked the location images Sírdhem had shared. Opting to give herself the most safety, she selected a picture far from the agreed town. One among hundreds that existed within the mangroves along the Perdition Sea’s edge, their only purpose was to harvest materials for sale or the worker’s consumption.
Appearing on an embankment, she looked out over a vista of overly lush greenery. Though the mangrove's canopy seemed rich with life, pitiful screams and the stench of stagnant water assaulted her senses from within the expanse. The wind spreading from that direction contained the tang of salt—a subtle hint, as if the Abyss wanted to spice the Damned’s pain.
Spotting the causeway to the town where she expected it to be, Amdirlain stretched her mental senses and noted the demons and damned present. The latter were common, although the trees’ broad poisonous green leaves hid them all.
Though to the damned the mangrove’s waters were crystal clear and smelledt enticingly sweet, Amdirlain saw the reality of the brackish fluid. Hanging by their feet from the mangrove’s canopy, the damned wiggled and squirmed, trying desperately to sip from the waters. Constantly sweating in the humid heat present beneath the canopy, the waters promised a balm to their parched throats. The environment distilled the desperation from their souls through tears and sweat that slithered down their bodies to join the waters in intermittent streams.
Within the water, the essence of desperation drifted on invisible currents that dragged the combined energies towards the distant sea.
The closest demons she felt were in the open, approaching down the road through the gently rolling hills. Only empty packs held in place with thick straps across their broad chests burdened a hundred plodding Dretch from the caravan. None of them had earned clothing, or scavenged materials to make their own, merely plodding along, unbothered by their nakedness.
A skim with Analysis revealed only nameless Least Dretch, without even a second species level to their credit. Indeed, most hadn’t even gotten into the second level of Thug or Brawler, let alone gained a second improved class of Warrior or Fighter.
A half-dozen red-skinned demons of a type that Amdirlain hadn’t yet seen marched alongside the column. Though each was a large humanoid figure, they were comparatively leaner than the bulky Dretch. Where the Dretch only had their fists and claws, their escort carried a variety of weaponry: coiled whips, swords of diverse make, and the largest of them carried a massive metal bow.
They were broad-shouldered, wearing hardened hide armour in various degrees of repair, but even the best of them was ghoulishly filthy. Loose folds of hairless flesh covered their skulls, and with the deeply sunken eyes and mouth, the effect gave them an unsettling impression. It was as if another’s flayed skin was a rotting mask over their dark interior.
[Name:
Species: Barbatos
Class: Hunter / Fighter / Thief-taker / Priest
Level: 5 / 39 / 39 / 37 / 37
Health: 3,894
Defence: 109
Magic: 35
Mana: 7,512
Melee Attack Power: 92
Combat Skills: Longbow [Ad]
Details: A native to Culerzic, he’s worked to prove his dedication to Lord Moloch’s service and gained substantial benefit from his initiative while climbing the servitor’s ranks. Recently undertook the organisation of a caravan to pull in a harvest of desperation crystals for a senior servant of Lord Moloch.]
[Thief-taker:
This Class focuses on detecting and hunting those that have stolen, either for the benefit of themselves or as the employee of another.
Some Thief-takers gain the Class simply because it can be easier to bash in someone’s head for stolen valuables than doing the stealing yourself. Others because they were fortunate enough to be on guard duty in the right place and the wrong time for a would-be Thief.]
Petrified trees marked the causeway’s entrance into the mangrove’s swamp. Many shattered tree stumps rise along its course amongst piled dirt and stone. These were being used as anchor points for the mounded materials and stepping stones in places where the marsh’s waters had eaten away the path.
With the lead rank of the column still a half kilometre away, Amdirlain teleported to the water’s edge. Using Telepathy to scan ahead for anything that might be an attack, she skipped along the winding path in short hops as it looped through the mangroves. Along the way, she extended her perception to catalogue assorted reptiles and scavengers that fed off each other and the renewing flesh of the damned. She’d travelled kilometres before catching hints of other demons tending filters along the main tidal paths, their minds were bights with greed over the crystallised flakes collected in them.
An hour into the trip, the town still hadn’t yet come into sight when Precognition growled for attention—a danger from within rather than external. The dissonance between the enchantment and flesh prickled again, causing Precognition to grumble louder. The flaw not in the object itself but a clash between its pattern and surrounding life caused the heat to flare higher. Taking Sírdhem’s warning to heart, Amdirlain pulled the gemstone into Inventory and sighed in relief when the heat died away only seconds later.
With her constant scanning confirming no one around, she weighed up her options and then changed. Her body shifted from the Culerzic Succubus form back into the elven-featured Alu-Demon.
Hours of short teleports later, the township came into view with no further issues. The only dangers to her seemed minor, especially compared to the slow but steadily growing heat that had started Precognition’s grumble.
I’ll have to give Sarah her prototype back. It seems I’m breaking everyone’s toys.
Flexing out the raven-featured wings, she confirmed her sable hair had darkened to black, matching the hue of her lips. Checking a hand, she took in the matt black nails contrasting the still ivory-hued skin and questioned her sanity. Pros and cons ticked off, and the deciding factors came down to two:. tThat the town could serve as a low-risk testing ground for her acting, and heralong with their desire to maintain the arrangement with Lorrella. While she might be replaceable, finding a stable abyssal resource wouldn’t be a simple task.
“Erwarth, let Lorrella know her contact won’t be a Succubus but an Alu-Demon associate. The prototype started to whine at me. I’ll use this as a trial run for my Acting Skill, and I don’t want to burn her as a contact.”
Erwrath's immediate response held a stressed, sharp-edged tone. “I will let her know that there will be a change, but send me regular updates. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll Planar Shift right into that town and level it if that's what it takes to rescue you—signal flare or not.”
“Will do.”
“What happened to the prototype?”
“It either didn’t like all the abyssal energy around me in the mangrove, or the pattern didn’t enjoy interacting with my form,” offered Amdirlain.
It still took another two hours to reach the town, and the sea’s scent lay heavily over the mangrove’s decay before it came into sight. Rounding a curve in the mangrove-enclosed path, Amdirlain saw a cleared space ahead. A half kilometre of open ground was filled with drying trays that resembled salt harvesting, but in racks nearby, she saw black crystals reflecting the sky’s flames.
[Desperation crystals (unprocessed)
These crystals mix the raw desperation drained from the damned with the abyssal waters of the Ravager’s River. The river’s constant flow pushes the combined materials out to the mangroves’ edge. A basic evaporation process is used to secure the bound essences as these crystals.]
[Ravager’s River
This waterway carries the waters of destruction from its headwaters high on Mount Suntsipena through various regions of Culerzic. The river splits into two main courses along the millions of kilometres it stretches. One drains into the Perdition Sea, and the other washes the effluent from the Blood Plains of the Dretch into the Umbra ocean east of Moloch’s Palace.]
Beyond the long lines of drying racks, a rough stone bridge crossed the river and ended at the top of the embankment on the far side. The information Sírdhem had shared promised a town with a haphazard arrangement of buildings, and Amdirlain’s Far Sight confirmed that hadn’t changed. The structures were inconsistent in almost every aspect, including whether they had roofs. Among the chaotic township, the streets were a matter of wishful thinking more than any planning, with few running more than a hundred metres, and even they didn’t go in a straight line. While a central square nominally existed, it looked more like a hacked open wound among the structures than a setting for businesses.
Her approach to the cleared space didn’t go unnoticed and, despite looks that ranged from hostile to lustful, Amdirlain continued on the path to the bridge. One of the giant demons led others to encircle her on the road, his lustful gaze not leaving her. He was slightly bigger than an Ogre at four metres, with long fingers that could have wrapped around a basketball. Seven wide horns formed a scoop-shaped crest at the back of its head, and purple-slitted eyes stood out vividly from the dark green skin that clung tightly to its muscle-filled frame.
[Species: Least Pilfin
Class: Fighter / Brawler
Level: 3 / 9 / 9
Health: 1,113
Defence: 45
Melee Attack Power: 48
Combat Skills: War Axe [Ap] (5), Claws [Ap] (20), Grapple [J] (3)
Details: While his species make up one of the primary elite combatants among Moloch’s armies, the drop out rate during training is high because they frequently show dependency on their native strength. Having failed to gain the required proficiency during training, the assistant overseer deemed him useless and sent him to join the dredge crews. ]
“Sweet fresh meat. Which brothel are you working at, half-breed?”
Amdirlain lashed out, and the demon split in two, the strike bisecting him in line with his floating ribs. The blow sent organs, hooked out by the kopis’ spikes, into the other would-be predators that had encircled her. When the pieces finished landing, Amdirlain looked over them and smiled sweetly.
“That didn’t even touch the sides!” squealed Amdirlain in protest. “Does anyone else want to play with me?”
When they stepped back, Amdirlain struck again and picked up his severed head by a horn. Though the head was the size of her torso, she spun it lightly, unbothered by the blood that splattered her and them.
“Either someone guides me to the gatherer’s sorting house, or I will get cross with you all,” declared Amdirlain.
“Is there a reward?” rumbled a Dretch while others were still looking at each other. The massive Demon stooped as if trying to avoid offence, and Amdirlain wondered if he was a genius among his kin. His clothing was a rough hemp-like cloth that seemed woven from reeds she’d seen in clusters among the mangroves.
“I won’t torture you,” laughed Amdirlain.
The Dretch bobbed his head and motioned towards the bridge. “Follow me.”
Without another word, he set off, the Dretch more than accustomed to the deadliest present making the rules.
[Combat Summary:
Least Pilfarin x1
Total Experience gained: 1,505
Ostimë +752
Ontãlin +752
Diplomacy [Ad] (12->13)
Intimidate [M] (1->2)
Details: When in Roma!]
Amdirlain laughed maniacally at the notification, and under the pressure of her Charisma, the menial demons fled. Having not pushed her guide, he merely held his place, rapidly bowing his head like a strange bobblehead doll. When Amdirlain pointed towards the bridge, he gave a content grunt and moved on. Before Amdirlain had reached the river’s edge, scavengers began to circle, and the first descended to peek at the corpse they’d left behind.
The presence of the head held lightly in her fist kept most other demons at bay. Though she did smack another Pilfarin through a wall for having the nerve to look at her wrong.
Her guide didn’t pause at the commotion, so Amdirlain left the stunned Pilfarin behind. Though it was clear she’d hurt him, the injury wasn’t sufficient to warrant a notification. The sudden exchange of mental alerts passed between those with telepathy had the news ripple out, and nothing further attempted to harass her. That didn’t stop the developing procession, tailing her with lust-filled minds. While the aura of Amdirlain’s presence didn’t affect the company she normally kept—the same didn’t apply in this town. Halfway to their destination, Amdirlain still hadn’t encountered a Demon whose levels had gone above 40.
They were nearing what Amdirlain hoped was their objective when they turned a corner onto a red-light alley that dog-legged along. The windows along each side provided spots for the prostitutes to advertise themselves. It wasn’t only succubi and alu-demons, as she spotted the incubi among them. The attire varied, from nearly naked to fully clothed, one thing was consistent —around their throat was a black ribbon with silver runes tied in a bow. The sheen of it matched the semi-incorporeal Phase Spider silk; without True Sight, they were invisible.
[Collar of servitude (cursed item):
Crafted from Phase Spider silk, these contain a version of the Dimensional Anchor enchantment. Unlike the basic version, the wearer can still Teleport or Blink, but is effectively Planar Locked. The Enchanter can link multiple to a command item that allows the wielder to issue orders requiring continual Willpower checks to even ignore.]
Narrowing Resonance’s focus to a single ribbon, Amdirlain memorised the enchantment’s song before she reached the last living advertisement. When they continued, she listened for the item that held the collar’s leash. When she found the first, she continued to collect each link within the town.
While most succubi would likely happily fuck for fun, it doesn’t mean another should control them. Is Moloch such a merchant that everything is for sale and the demons are just another product?
When the Dretch finally stopped, they were in an irregularly shaped yard before a multi-level stone warehouse. Within the warehouse, torso-sized black widows stood on platforms around which webbing formed a curtain. After they examined each crystal, the demons passed it between flexible claws to affix them to strands. As Amdirlain watched, a strand glistening with the crystals lowered through the floor to provide a fresh stretch for a sorter to work.
“You may go,” stated Amdirlain, passing the Dretch the severed head. Stretching out Resonance, she took in the sounds around the place. Among the trashing music common to the inhabitants, precise playful notes made it clear Lorrella was watching from one room overlooking the warehouse’s yard.
“Reward!” boasted the Dretch to those following—thick fingers smoothly scooped out an eyeball and popped it between his teeth.
“I found you useful, and you didn’t annoy me,” replied Amdirlain, the edge in her tone freezing the procession in place, the leading elements blocking one entry to the yard.
[Name Provided: Useful
Target: Least Dretch
Do you wish to apply this name?]
Fine
The Dretch jumped as if she’d goosed him and thumped a hand against his chest. “Useful.”
With that declaration, he sprinted away, only stopping to throw a confused look back as he reached the yard’s far exit.
Two things: find out who normally names demons, get someone without all the levels to help with checking my Charisma restraint.
Confirming Lorrella's location with Far Sight, it was tempting to appear beside her, though Amdirlain waited for Lorrella to make a move. After barely a minute of waiting, the procession's members started to get restless, and Amdirlain sent a message off, not wanting a massacre to tip Lorrella into fleeing.
“Erwrath, can you tell Lorrella I’ve arrived in the yard before the sorting house? I know she’s watching me right now. Maybe only tell her it's the Alu-Demon with the Dretch guide and the procession following that she’s meant to meet?”
“I’ve told her. But what have you done?”
Amdirlain drew her kopis again and turned so those ahead could see the blade.
“It seems I need more practice restraining my Charisma. At the moment, it seems it runs a gambit of options: fuck her, flee or obey her completely,” admitted Amdirlain.
“If you kill them all, it will be safer, but someone will investigate. Call it a bust and leave,” cautioned Erwarth.
Amdirlain turned and smiled at the group. “What wants to die first?”
Stamping her foot shattered stone with an explosive sound—those demons that could teleport left, and the rest trampled each other underfoot.
Lorrella appeared after the closest edge of the stampede rounded the first corner. Under the flame-filled sky, her red hair was a bright crimson, and the light played tricks with the multiple pupils in her vibrant green eyes. Lorrella’s amber-hued skin seemed a tone darker, almost blending in with the light brown of her rune-covered leather. Her only obvious weapon was the short sword at her hip and daggers in her boots. Amdirlain turned and properly took in her appearance, comparing it to the flirt with the dental floss outfit Lorrella projected in her shop.
“That was mild,” noted Lorrella.
Turning towards her, Amdirlain simply shrugged. “I was sure you were around and didn’t want to make you wait while I bathed in litres of blood.”
“Demon blood stains the hair. What happened to the others?” asked Lorrella.
“They have provided you all the information you need to know about that,” replied Amdirlain.
Lorrella shook her head. “I’m not asking Erwarth; I’m asking you.”
“And I didn’t mention her name on purpose. We should go somewhere less populated if you want answers to such questions,” stated Amdirlain. “Not that it means you’ll get an answer if that is the only question you have for me.”
“I’ll shift us somewhere,” offered Lorrella, and Amdirlain waved the suggestion off.
When Lorrella’s eyebrows raised questioningly, Amdirlain explained. “No teleporting from either of us. I’ll be the one to open a Portal to a remote location. That way, you can confirm it's safe before moving through it—after all, I’m sure a level 70 Wizard has a few scrying spells.”
The revelation of her level had Lorrella’s expression turn wary, though inwardly, her natural playfulness spiked with interest. “I name the location.”
Amdirlain retrieved Sírdhem’s case from Inventory and opened the lid for Lorrella to see the obsidian-coloured coins inside. “I came to pay you for the next lot of work and the objects you agreed to bring along. We can just stick to that, or we can go to a remote location that I decide, and you can ask your questions until I tire of them.”
“You’re expecting me to play along by your rules?” huffed Lorrella. “Surely I should pick the location, and you can veto it if you don’t like it.”
“I know where you’ve been working for years. Why would we have waited if we wanted you dead or trapped?” countered Amdirlain. “Would you like the constant paying work that challenges you to dry up?"
“No,” grumbled Lorrella and crossed her arms under her generous bosom.
Amdirlain almost laughed at the move, catching Lorrella intended it as a slight against her modest bust line. “When I’m offering payment conditions, you can either decline or accept. I won’t accept haggling. Wasn’t that the rule in your shop? No haggling on the price offered for goods.”
“I didn’t see it as a price for goods,” argued Lorrella.
“You want information. Many people would see that as a purchase,” countered Amdirlain. “Now make your choice: payment and exchange of goods, or I choose a shift in locations, we make the exchange, and then you can ask questions until I stop answering.”
Lorrella pouted and gave a sulky huff. “If I choose neither?”
“Then the work you’ve completed for us best be at the compound for someone to collect,” replied Amdirlain. “Or we’ll have hard feelings.”
“What will you charge for your questions?”
“I’ll add extra items to the list of things to be made, for which you’ll receive payment. When you ask your question, I’ll tell you the cost and if I’ll answer.”
The terms had Lorrella chucking merrily. “At the same rate as the construction work I’ve been doing?”
“Yes,” stated Amdirlain. Without further delay, she opened a portal targeting a spot close to where she’d slain the first Wyvern.
Listening to the Clairvoyance Spell Lorrella cast, Amdirlain caught hints of difference in the design to what she’d learnt. The Spell quickly ended, and Lorrella stepped through, moving without hesitation to the blood-splattered rocks where Torm had butchered the Wyvern.
Scratching at the bloodstain, Lorrella inhaled deeply and looked back as Amdirlain closed the Portal. “Old?”
“The price for the answer is, why do you want to know?”
“I could use some blood, especially from an old one,” explained Lorrella.
Amdirlain gave a mercenary smile. “Yes, it was an old wyvern. I’ll hunt one down later and drain it for the right price.”
“What is the name of your group?”
Amdirlain pretended to consider the question’s fee while Silent Song set a Dimensional Anchor in place around Lorrella
“The price is a question of my own. Do you still report to Hell?” asked Amdirlain, only to hold up a hand immediately. “You don’t have to answer that, I know you do. Your chain of command reports to the Arch-Devil Zariel, at least nominally; likely, some in the pecking order have their side deals.”
In rapid succession, Lorrella tried to shift away using three different powers, and the song quashed each.
“Relax, we already knew that, and you’re not dead,” Amdirlain said, after ten minutes of dodging past bolts and blasts of various elemental energies. Her mental touch followed every action Lorrella took before she’d even decided on it. “Dimensional Anchor means you’re not going anywhere.”
“I can’t see any Mana about me,” growled Lorrella, a ball of lightning clasped in her hand causing a Saint Elmo’s fire effect along her forearm.
“Didn’t say it was a Spell,” retorted Amdirlain.
Lorrella stared at her in disbelief. “If you knew my allegiance, then why ask?”
“Should I set a price for that question, or shall we treat this as a conversation?”
“What does it cost me to have this be a conversation?”
Amdirlain gave a friendly smile that made Lorrella swallow nervously. “Don’t lie to me, since I’d rather not have cause to kill you. Which would merely send you to Hell, but we both know you don’t want to be there, as attractive as you find Order.”
“How do I prove I won’t lie?”
“I don’t need proof of your word, just agree not to and then don’t. The moment you lie, I’ll invoke the penalty. You can decline to answer, but don’t lie,” allowed Amdirlain.
“That condition is stupidly foolish,” declared Lorrella.
“You’ve gained a level in Artificer, Arcane Smith, and Alchemist since you began working for us. What else would you like me to tell you? I will know when you lie,” Amdirlain said and let her Charisma free to rampage.
It was like a weight had lifted from her shoulders and smashed onto Lorrella’s when the half-Fey froze in shock. Gasping, Lorrella made the mistake of looking up and locking eyes with Amdirlain. Focused Willpower smashed into her through Amdirlain’s gaze, and Lorrella could only whimper. Before she could even start to adjust, Amdirlain pulled it back under control, and Lorrella dropped to the ground—a marionette with its strings cut.
“I’m not worried about your allegiance. To us, it's a positive since you should stick to the beneficial arrangement you agreed to—in theory. Erwarth said you might have guessed the purpose of the siege engines, so to ensure you’ve not since detoured into misleading assumptions, I’ll state it clearly,” declared Amdirlain and waited until she had Lorrella’s full attention. “The siege engines you’ve already made, and the ones you’ll work on from now, have one purpose. The destruction of the Sisterhood of Blood.”
“Why are you telling me?” whispered Lorrella.
“Because I know various arch-devils have personal grudges against Balnérith,” explained Amdirlain. “Also, it certainly would be more effective for you to spend your time working only on what’s needed rather than determining their intended use or trying to implant traps in case they venture towards Hell. Would you like to know what this arrangement will cost them?”
Lorrella eyed Amdirlain nervously. “Yes, of course.”
“Yes, we knew of the trapped enchantments. This arrangement will cost Hell nothing but your time and efforts, for which you’ll continue to receive compensation,” answered Amdirlain. “We will fund the construction and source the forces. The specification for the first set of engines you needed to build was based on the defences of the Sisterhood stronghold, for which we have a particular interest.”
“Alright,” murmured Lorrella.
“While there are some others, that we will destroy ourselves. For the majority, when we provide the specifications, we’ll provide the name of the Plane and images of its location. Since we have an extended timeline, if your superiors decide to preempt our assault with one of their own, we won’t take offence,” continued Amdirlain. “We wouldn’t even be upset if their forces strangely end up with the equipment you build for the attack.”
“Why?” asked Lorrella. “They’ll want to know why you’re working against her.”
“We were all bound by Balnérith’s oath until she lost her book of names. We want to destroy her and every bitch that didn’t take the chance to run when they had it,” growled Amdirlain. “Hundreds, maybe even thousands left, but far more stayed, so they can pay with her.”
Lorrella’s gaze went wide as the Alu-Demon shape Amdirlain had been using slipped away. Flexing the red and gold wings of her Fallen form, Amdirlain took in the instant when all Lorrella’s pupils turned into pin-pricks.
“Have I made myself clear?”
“I guess I won’t be learning your name,” breathed Lorrella.
“No, you most certainly will not be,” agreed Amdirlain.
“How long do you expect your extended preparations to take?” asked Lorrella.
“A few hundred years. We have to deal with the issue caused by the marks left in the compound. Before you ask, no, that had no relation to Balnérith, more a matter of unfinished business, one might say. As you know, it impacted several named Succubi in our group, so we’re taking that into account with our timeline.”
With that, Amdirlain resumed her Alu-Demon form and restrained her Charisma as firmly as possible.
Taking in the transformation, Lorrella’s tongue flickered across her lower lip. “I take it you rarely pretend to be an Alu-Demon.”
“I’ve spent much time in solitary training lately. It’s harder to restrain my energies than I remember, especially around such lowly demons,” offered Amdirlain.
“Would you be open to opportunities for recruitment?”
Amdirlain smirked. “The leadership of Hell don’t want me in their playground, and I’ve no desire to be part of their hierarchy. I enjoy breaking things, and I doubt that would go down well.”
“I had to ask,” Lorrella said. “The enemy of my enemy.”
“Is merely a future enemy that has not yet crossed me. Hell is not my friend or ally. We have a mutual loathing for a bitch that needs to be destroyed—that’s all.”
Putting the metal case on the ground before Lorrella, Amdirlain accepted a storage bag in exchange. Picking up a stray thought, Amdirlain pulled out a vial inscribed with a tracing rune and passed it back to Lorrella. “You're so cute, but nice try.”
Her relief let Amdirlain connect to the rest, and she returned other items set with different tracing runes to Lorrella one at a time, the Succubus’ smile growing more strained with each. When Amdirlain finally ended the Silent Song, she opened a Gate to the construction yard Lorrella had been using and ushered her on her way.
It took Amdirlain a few minutes of internal debate before she wrapped herself in concealments and teleported to the rooftop of the red-light street. With focus and a few hundred whispered notes, the town’s collars of servitude were no more. Most brothels’ rooms emptied, but a few entrepreneurs haggled with their former ‘employers’ instead.
