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<blockquote data-quote="ThirdWizard" data-source="post: 6612189" data-attributes="member: 12037"><p>The Gatehouse stood as a testament to how old the Cage really was. Not even the most well lanned whitebeard in the city knew who created it or what it’s purpose was. The structure consisted of a huge building encircled by a great wall just inside the Hive Ward. The giant courtyard was in the front of the building, encircled on all sides by high stone walls. A now immovable barred gate was the only way in and out, but the bars (each over a foot thick) were spread far enough apart that groups of people could easily walk between them. What was meant to be kept in or out of the building was almost as maddening a thought as trying to understand the current inhabitants of the building.</p><p></p><p>A line of people weaved from one of the entrances, around the wall, and into the streets of the Hive Ward beyond and out of sight. These were people looking to check in themselves or loved ones, to get a bite to eat from a soup kitchen, or to visit the insane within. An old gnarled man coughed as the group passed by, looking up at them with desperation in his eyes as they passed by the line, making their way down the street to take a look at the front of the Gatehouse. The street was busy, with pushing and shoving to get through the mess that inevitably gathered in this neighborhood.</p><p></p><p>An obviously exhausted Bleaker, what they call a member of the Bleak Cabal who ran the Gatehouse, was standing on a raised platform trying to keep things in order here. Her hawk like eyes had deep circles underneath, and she constantly twisted and turned as she stood on watch. “No cutting! To the back of the line!” he yelled out, signaling for one of the bouncers, for lack of a better term, to push an angry sod out of line where he wasn't supposed to be. The heavy-set bouncer grabbed the scrawny young boy, he couldn't have been more than thirteen, by the scruff of his neck and shoved him into a ditch just as the woman on watch called out another interloper.</p><p></p><p>Con artists and cutpurses plied their trade here as well. One cagey basher was trying to sell his place in line. He had a sign up that read, “Ten copper, one seat, take my place.” The bouncers seemed to ignore him, but who knew if after purchase the new arrival wouldn't just be kicked to the back. Another berk was trying to sell dirty brown water, and he was making a mint in doing so. The people at this point in the line must have been there for days, and the weaker looking among them looked like they could pass out at any moment. A pair of Dustmen walked the line asking anyone to sign one of their Contracts so that they could use the poor barmy’s body after he'd passed away. They had a stack of signed paperwork weighing them down.</p><p></p><p>Mehen, Mozzy, Aurian, and Jer stood looking at the indomitable structure in front of them, and at the difficulty at getting in. They had asked around about Dancing Gull, and all the signs pointed to him being back inside the compound. They were on a time crunch, and they needed answers quickly. They had hoped they could just ignore this lead, that Jer had wasted a bit of jink on Twine. But, they needed answers beyond what Carmine had given them, unfortunately. They needed a portal key. Right now, more than that, they needed a way in that skipped the sodding days long line. They didn't have days. They had hours.</p><p></p><p>This was Mozzy’s specialty: infiltration. With a spell, she looked just like any of the members of the Bleak Cabal who ran the place, uniform and all. She chose a look that didn’t stand out too much: male human, average height and weight, brown hair and eyes, not too muscular, not too good looking or ugly. She was no one in particular. The others fell into line behind her as she led them past the line, all breath held. At least they looked sort of like they belonged. That was worth a lot when you're trying to get in somewhere you shouldn't be. They crossed the courtyard without incident, and started to wonder if this would actually work. As they approached one of the entrances, aiming for one of the clerical paths that was less traveled than the soup kitchen or assignments areas, however, they drew the attention of one of the Gatehouse guards.</p><p></p><p>“Hey there. Who are you bringing in here?”</p><p></p><p>Mozzy was ready with her reply. “Visitors. Unscheduled audit from the sodding Fraternity of Order.”</p><p></p><p>Mehen didn't hesitate with his reply. “We're just here to make sure you're compliant with all the current codes.” The other two nodded.</p><p></p><p>“Can they…? I don't think they can…” the guard started, but Mozzy cut him off quickly.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah yeah, probably not. But, that’s for my boss to decide, not me. If you want to turn them away, then you can take the heat for it.”</p><p></p><p>The guy looked uncomfortable with that idea. “You'd better take ‘em in.”</p><p></p><p>Mozzy nodded and they entered the Gatehouse.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="ThirdWizard, post: 6612189, member: 12037"] The Gatehouse stood as a testament to how old the Cage really was. Not even the most well lanned whitebeard in the city knew who created it or what it’s purpose was. The structure consisted of a huge building encircled by a great wall just inside the Hive Ward. The giant courtyard was in the front of the building, encircled on all sides by high stone walls. A now immovable barred gate was the only way in and out, but the bars (each over a foot thick) were spread far enough apart that groups of people could easily walk between them. What was meant to be kept in or out of the building was almost as maddening a thought as trying to understand the current inhabitants of the building. A line of people weaved from one of the entrances, around the wall, and into the streets of the Hive Ward beyond and out of sight. These were people looking to check in themselves or loved ones, to get a bite to eat from a soup kitchen, or to visit the insane within. An old gnarled man coughed as the group passed by, looking up at them with desperation in his eyes as they passed by the line, making their way down the street to take a look at the front of the Gatehouse. The street was busy, with pushing and shoving to get through the mess that inevitably gathered in this neighborhood. An obviously exhausted Bleaker, what they call a member of the Bleak Cabal who ran the Gatehouse, was standing on a raised platform trying to keep things in order here. Her hawk like eyes had deep circles underneath, and she constantly twisted and turned as she stood on watch. “No cutting! To the back of the line!” he yelled out, signaling for one of the bouncers, for lack of a better term, to push an angry sod out of line where he wasn't supposed to be. The heavy-set bouncer grabbed the scrawny young boy, he couldn't have been more than thirteen, by the scruff of his neck and shoved him into a ditch just as the woman on watch called out another interloper. Con artists and cutpurses plied their trade here as well. One cagey basher was trying to sell his place in line. He had a sign up that read, “Ten copper, one seat, take my place.” The bouncers seemed to ignore him, but who knew if after purchase the new arrival wouldn't just be kicked to the back. Another berk was trying to sell dirty brown water, and he was making a mint in doing so. The people at this point in the line must have been there for days, and the weaker looking among them looked like they could pass out at any moment. A pair of Dustmen walked the line asking anyone to sign one of their Contracts so that they could use the poor barmy’s body after he'd passed away. They had a stack of signed paperwork weighing them down. Mehen, Mozzy, Aurian, and Jer stood looking at the indomitable structure in front of them, and at the difficulty at getting in. They had asked around about Dancing Gull, and all the signs pointed to him being back inside the compound. They were on a time crunch, and they needed answers quickly. They had hoped they could just ignore this lead, that Jer had wasted a bit of jink on Twine. But, they needed answers beyond what Carmine had given them, unfortunately. They needed a portal key. Right now, more than that, they needed a way in that skipped the sodding days long line. They didn't have days. They had hours. This was Mozzy’s specialty: infiltration. With a spell, she looked just like any of the members of the Bleak Cabal who ran the place, uniform and all. She chose a look that didn’t stand out too much: male human, average height and weight, brown hair and eyes, not too muscular, not too good looking or ugly. She was no one in particular. The others fell into line behind her as she led them past the line, all breath held. At least they looked sort of like they belonged. That was worth a lot when you're trying to get in somewhere you shouldn't be. They crossed the courtyard without incident, and started to wonder if this would actually work. As they approached one of the entrances, aiming for one of the clerical paths that was less traveled than the soup kitchen or assignments areas, however, they drew the attention of one of the Gatehouse guards. “Hey there. Who are you bringing in here?” Mozzy was ready with her reply. “Visitors. Unscheduled audit from the sodding Fraternity of Order.” Mehen didn't hesitate with his reply. “We're just here to make sure you're compliant with all the current codes.” The other two nodded. “Can they…? I don't think they can…” the guard started, but Mozzy cut him off quickly. “Yeah yeah, probably not. But, that’s for my boss to decide, not me. If you want to turn them away, then you can take the heat for it.” The guy looked uncomfortable with that idea. “You'd better take ‘em in.” Mozzy nodded and they entered the Gatehouse. [/QUOTE]
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