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<blockquote data-quote="JollyDoc" data-source="post: 3861667" data-attributes="member: 9546"><p>As it turned out, the Birdcage was another brothel, though according to word on the street, the Sisters of Lamentation dealt more in information brokering than pleasure, though the two were not mutually exclusive. The building itself was a small gray tower also known as the Crooked Spire due to a steeple built of cheap timber that had developed a singular twist over the years. Luridly colored flags fluttered from the top of the building and numerous bas-relief carvings of stylized harpies armed with whips and daggers decorated the outside walls. </p><p></p><p>“Enthralling voices,” Daelric muttered as he looked at the images. “Harpy prostitutes?? That’s just…wrong!”</p><p>“That’s saying a lot considering what we’ve already seen of this city,” Mandi pointed out. “I doubt we have anything to worry about from their hypnotic songs, but just the same it would not pay to have our front line suddenly turn on us. Can you do something about that?”</p><p>The priest nodded then went to Sepoto, Tower Cleaver and Octurus, placing his hands over each of their ears in turn. When he removed his hands, each of the warriors found themselves to be stone deaf.</p><p>‘Don’t worry,’ Mandi’s voice spoke into their heads. ‘I’ve linked us all telepathically. We can communicate freely and Daelric can undo his spell when we’re done here.”</p><p></p><p>They found the front door unlocked, leading into an entry parlor. The walls of the garishly painted chamber depicted scenes that would make even the most brazen streetwalker blush. A fine oak cabinet stood to the left of the entrance door, and a low table with a bottle of port and several crystal glasses stood next to a few padded chairs near a door to the south. A glassy eyed man stood before a podium wearing what looked to be a very uncomfortable outfit of leather and peacock feathers. Sepoto suppressed a snicker. At Mandi’s nod, Cleaver stepped forward, hefted his axe and planted its blade in the wood of the podium, sending a crack through it all the way to its base.</p><p>“We’re looking for Harliss Javell,” Mandi said, “and no, we don’t have an appointment, and we won’t leave a message.”</p><p>The gimp’s eyes unfocused for a moment, and he stared in confusion at the axe.</p><p>“I have not heard of such a person,” he said in a flat monotone. “I can take down your names if you like. Would you like a glass of wine?”</p><p>“Perhaps I did not make myself clear,” Mandi hissed. “We know she is here. Now, either you open that door and take us to the Sisters, or my large friend here will use your head as a key!”</p><p>Again, the man looked impassive.</p><p>“The Sisters only see clients by appointment. I do not have a key to the door.”</p><p>Mandi sighed in exasperation. If the slave were carrying a key, she could not imagine where he would be hiding it, given the nature of his attire. Or perhaps she could imagine, but just chose not to.</p><p>‘Cleaver, open the door,’ she commanded.</p><p>The minotaur planted his feet before the stout door and went to work. In seconds, the portal lay in splinters before him, and the group hurried through, certain they had lost any element of surprise.</p><p></p><p>The chamber they found themselves in was a vast, garishly painted space of great height that seemed to consist of the entire central mass of the building. The walls were decorated to a height of thirty feet with paintings of an erotic nature that left nothing to the imagination. The interior of the spire above was a tangled network of beams and supports. Four huge oak beams extended upward into the cathedral-like space, rising around a huge birdcage made of metal and crystal that dangled from the rafters by several iron chains and creaking ropes. The chamber’s floor was thickly carpeted, and a balcony ran around the edge of the room at a height of fifteen feet, granting access to several narrow doorways. A handful of vapid slaves, dressed similarly to the doorman milled about the room, cleaning carpets and walls. Listless and quiet, they ceased their tasks and scurried for cover when the Legionnaires burst in. As the six companions gazed up into the recesses of the tower, they saw a figure crouched among the rafters. It was definitely a harpy, but like none any of the group had ever seen or read about. She bore distinctively avian lower extremities and leathery wings, but the rest of her naked body was that of a humanoid female. Her entire physique, however, had been shaved bald and her skin was festooned with tattoos and horrific piercings, some of them little more than nails driven into her hands, feet and scalp. As she glared down at the intruders, she began to shriek.</p><p>“Filth! Leave this place! You have no business here! Chasten! Scourge! Come quickly! We have uninvited guests!”</p><p>Immediately, two doors on the upper balcony opened and a pair of harpies fluttered up into the rafters, each similarly adorned as the first.</p><p>“Who are they, Vivisectia?” one of the newcomers demanded.</p><p>“We are here for Harliss Javell!” Mandi shouted up to them. “Giver her to us now, and we will leave in peace!”</p><p>“That wouldn’t exactly be good for business, now would it?” the one called Vivisectia sneered. “What kind of customers would we have if we simply gave our services away? I have a counter-proposal. Why don’t you all just put down your arms and open your ears. Your new uniforms are waiting for you!” </p><p></p><p>The three Sisters began to sing, their voices at once haunting and horrifying. Mandi, Daelric and Marius felt the power of the harpies’ song washing over them, but they were prepared. With great efforts of will, the trio forced the intrusive lyrics from their mind and prepared to deal with the vile songstresses. Mandi acted first, conjuring a small, impermeable prison of pure force around the one called Chasten. The harpy’s song was instantly silenced, and she flew around her prison, slamming into the walls like a bird trying to fly through newly cleaned glass. Next, the sorceress turned her attention to Vivisectia.</p><p>“Your tune is catchy, and has a good beat,” Mandi laughed, “but can you dance to it?”</p><p>With that, she hurled a blast of mental power at the harpy, and to Vivisectia’s horror and disbelief, her feet began to shuffle and tap of their own volition. Within a matter of moments, she was dancing and cavorting like a sideshow fool along her narrow wooden beam, having to focus her total concentration on the movements in order to avoid plummeting to the floor below. That left only Scourge still singing. Marius raised one finger and pointed it at the Sister, and black fire arrowed straight for her heart. Her voice cut off in mid-lyric as she died and toppled from her perch, crashing to the floor in a bloody heap.</p><p>“Good to have you back,” Mandi said, though she could still tell something was different about the warmage. His eyes lacked their familiar spark they had whenever he was destroying something. Shrugging it aside as post-death depression, the sorceress hurled another spell at Vivisectia. The harpy’s dance came to its final conclusion as she imploded into a puff of dust and smoke. Chasten could only watch as her sisters died, and when the invisible walls confining her abruptly vanished, she knew her time had come. A second wave of black energy from Marius sent her to join her kin in whatever infernal choir they would sing in for all of eternity.</p><p></p><p>‘You didn’t leave much for us to do,’ Octurus said through the mental link, disappointment in his voice.</p><p>‘Don’t be so sure,’ Mandi said, gazing up at the giant cage suspended above them. ‘I know you can’t hear it, but there is some sort of awful keening coming from up there. I pray it’s not Harliss making that noise. It barely sounds human. Why don’t you three get up there and take a look around?’</p><p>Quickly, the three warriors quaffed potions allowing them to take flight, and then soared up into the spire, dodging past the rafters as they drew level with the cage. It was huge, some thirty feet in height and fifteen in girth. The iron bars were covered with dozens of ragged barbs, and manacles hung from several places. Whips, hooked chains, knives, leather cords and other devices for torture sat on metal shelves here and there. The cage floor was a filthy tangle of reeking rags and bones. Near the top of the cage sat a smaller one, only five feet across and just as tall. In that cage was a pile of rags arranged in what looked to be a nest. Sepoto recognized the unconscious, beaten figure on the floor of the larger cage as Harliss Javell. Standing in the entrance of the smaller cage was a figure that superficially resembled a human child, but with slug-white skin, tiny claws, black, empty eyes and a mouth filled with needle-sharp teeth. It opened its jaws wider than should have been possible and hissed as the three Legionnaires approached. Then it flopped to the floor beside Harliss and leaned over her threateningly. Tower Cleaver didn’t hesitate. He bashed aside the barred, metal door of the birdcage and quickly followed Sepoto and Octurus inside. As the little abomination opened its mouth again to sink its teeth into Harliss’ neck, two scimitars, an axe and a spike chain separated its head and all of its limbs from its body.</p><p></p><p>Back on the floor of the tower, Marius came to stand next to Mandi as she watched the battle above.</p><p>“It seems you have things well in hand here,” the gnome said flatly. Mandi looked at him sharply, her eyes narrowing.</p><p>“Yes? What of it?”</p><p>“I’m leaving,” Marius said, his eyes meeting hers. “I don’t have the stomach for this any longer. I’ve seen death one too many times, and the petty minutiae of this world no longer concern me. I have witnessed what the after life holds for me, and I am none to eager to rush into its embrace. I won’t face death again needlessly. I have faith in you, Mandi. You’ll get by, but be careful. The road to Hell is paved with the best of intentions. Trust me on this.”</p><p>With that, he turned and walked out of the Birdcage, disappearing into the bustling crowd in the street beyond.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="JollyDoc, post: 3861667, member: 9546"] As it turned out, the Birdcage was another brothel, though according to word on the street, the Sisters of Lamentation dealt more in information brokering than pleasure, though the two were not mutually exclusive. The building itself was a small gray tower also known as the Crooked Spire due to a steeple built of cheap timber that had developed a singular twist over the years. Luridly colored flags fluttered from the top of the building and numerous bas-relief carvings of stylized harpies armed with whips and daggers decorated the outside walls. “Enthralling voices,” Daelric muttered as he looked at the images. “Harpy prostitutes?? That’s just…wrong!” “That’s saying a lot considering what we’ve already seen of this city,” Mandi pointed out. “I doubt we have anything to worry about from their hypnotic songs, but just the same it would not pay to have our front line suddenly turn on us. Can you do something about that?” The priest nodded then went to Sepoto, Tower Cleaver and Octurus, placing his hands over each of their ears in turn. When he removed his hands, each of the warriors found themselves to be stone deaf. ‘Don’t worry,’ Mandi’s voice spoke into their heads. ‘I’ve linked us all telepathically. We can communicate freely and Daelric can undo his spell when we’re done here.” They found the front door unlocked, leading into an entry parlor. The walls of the garishly painted chamber depicted scenes that would make even the most brazen streetwalker blush. A fine oak cabinet stood to the left of the entrance door, and a low table with a bottle of port and several crystal glasses stood next to a few padded chairs near a door to the south. A glassy eyed man stood before a podium wearing what looked to be a very uncomfortable outfit of leather and peacock feathers. Sepoto suppressed a snicker. At Mandi’s nod, Cleaver stepped forward, hefted his axe and planted its blade in the wood of the podium, sending a crack through it all the way to its base. “We’re looking for Harliss Javell,” Mandi said, “and no, we don’t have an appointment, and we won’t leave a message.” The gimp’s eyes unfocused for a moment, and he stared in confusion at the axe. “I have not heard of such a person,” he said in a flat monotone. “I can take down your names if you like. Would you like a glass of wine?” “Perhaps I did not make myself clear,” Mandi hissed. “We know she is here. Now, either you open that door and take us to the Sisters, or my large friend here will use your head as a key!” Again, the man looked impassive. “The Sisters only see clients by appointment. I do not have a key to the door.” Mandi sighed in exasperation. If the slave were carrying a key, she could not imagine where he would be hiding it, given the nature of his attire. Or perhaps she could imagine, but just chose not to. ‘Cleaver, open the door,’ she commanded. The minotaur planted his feet before the stout door and went to work. In seconds, the portal lay in splinters before him, and the group hurried through, certain they had lost any element of surprise. The chamber they found themselves in was a vast, garishly painted space of great height that seemed to consist of the entire central mass of the building. The walls were decorated to a height of thirty feet with paintings of an erotic nature that left nothing to the imagination. The interior of the spire above was a tangled network of beams and supports. Four huge oak beams extended upward into the cathedral-like space, rising around a huge birdcage made of metal and crystal that dangled from the rafters by several iron chains and creaking ropes. The chamber’s floor was thickly carpeted, and a balcony ran around the edge of the room at a height of fifteen feet, granting access to several narrow doorways. A handful of vapid slaves, dressed similarly to the doorman milled about the room, cleaning carpets and walls. Listless and quiet, they ceased their tasks and scurried for cover when the Legionnaires burst in. As the six companions gazed up into the recesses of the tower, they saw a figure crouched among the rafters. It was definitely a harpy, but like none any of the group had ever seen or read about. She bore distinctively avian lower extremities and leathery wings, but the rest of her naked body was that of a humanoid female. Her entire physique, however, had been shaved bald and her skin was festooned with tattoos and horrific piercings, some of them little more than nails driven into her hands, feet and scalp. As she glared down at the intruders, she began to shriek. “Filth! Leave this place! You have no business here! Chasten! Scourge! Come quickly! We have uninvited guests!” Immediately, two doors on the upper balcony opened and a pair of harpies fluttered up into the rafters, each similarly adorned as the first. “Who are they, Vivisectia?” one of the newcomers demanded. “We are here for Harliss Javell!” Mandi shouted up to them. “Giver her to us now, and we will leave in peace!” “That wouldn’t exactly be good for business, now would it?” the one called Vivisectia sneered. “What kind of customers would we have if we simply gave our services away? I have a counter-proposal. Why don’t you all just put down your arms and open your ears. Your new uniforms are waiting for you!” The three Sisters began to sing, their voices at once haunting and horrifying. Mandi, Daelric and Marius felt the power of the harpies’ song washing over them, but they were prepared. With great efforts of will, the trio forced the intrusive lyrics from their mind and prepared to deal with the vile songstresses. Mandi acted first, conjuring a small, impermeable prison of pure force around the one called Chasten. The harpy’s song was instantly silenced, and she flew around her prison, slamming into the walls like a bird trying to fly through newly cleaned glass. Next, the sorceress turned her attention to Vivisectia. “Your tune is catchy, and has a good beat,” Mandi laughed, “but can you dance to it?” With that, she hurled a blast of mental power at the harpy, and to Vivisectia’s horror and disbelief, her feet began to shuffle and tap of their own volition. Within a matter of moments, she was dancing and cavorting like a sideshow fool along her narrow wooden beam, having to focus her total concentration on the movements in order to avoid plummeting to the floor below. That left only Scourge still singing. Marius raised one finger and pointed it at the Sister, and black fire arrowed straight for her heart. Her voice cut off in mid-lyric as she died and toppled from her perch, crashing to the floor in a bloody heap. “Good to have you back,” Mandi said, though she could still tell something was different about the warmage. His eyes lacked their familiar spark they had whenever he was destroying something. Shrugging it aside as post-death depression, the sorceress hurled another spell at Vivisectia. The harpy’s dance came to its final conclusion as she imploded into a puff of dust and smoke. Chasten could only watch as her sisters died, and when the invisible walls confining her abruptly vanished, she knew her time had come. A second wave of black energy from Marius sent her to join her kin in whatever infernal choir they would sing in for all of eternity. ‘You didn’t leave much for us to do,’ Octurus said through the mental link, disappointment in his voice. ‘Don’t be so sure,’ Mandi said, gazing up at the giant cage suspended above them. ‘I know you can’t hear it, but there is some sort of awful keening coming from up there. I pray it’s not Harliss making that noise. It barely sounds human. Why don’t you three get up there and take a look around?’ Quickly, the three warriors quaffed potions allowing them to take flight, and then soared up into the spire, dodging past the rafters as they drew level with the cage. It was huge, some thirty feet in height and fifteen in girth. The iron bars were covered with dozens of ragged barbs, and manacles hung from several places. Whips, hooked chains, knives, leather cords and other devices for torture sat on metal shelves here and there. The cage floor was a filthy tangle of reeking rags and bones. Near the top of the cage sat a smaller one, only five feet across and just as tall. In that cage was a pile of rags arranged in what looked to be a nest. Sepoto recognized the unconscious, beaten figure on the floor of the larger cage as Harliss Javell. Standing in the entrance of the smaller cage was a figure that superficially resembled a human child, but with slug-white skin, tiny claws, black, empty eyes and a mouth filled with needle-sharp teeth. It opened its jaws wider than should have been possible and hissed as the three Legionnaires approached. Then it flopped to the floor beside Harliss and leaned over her threateningly. Tower Cleaver didn’t hesitate. He bashed aside the barred, metal door of the birdcage and quickly followed Sepoto and Octurus inside. As the little abomination opened its mouth again to sink its teeth into Harliss’ neck, two scimitars, an axe and a spike chain separated its head and all of its limbs from its body. Back on the floor of the tower, Marius came to stand next to Mandi as she watched the battle above. “It seems you have things well in hand here,” the gnome said flatly. Mandi looked at him sharply, her eyes narrowing. “Yes? What of it?” “I’m leaving,” Marius said, his eyes meeting hers. “I don’t have the stomach for this any longer. I’ve seen death one too many times, and the petty minutiae of this world no longer concern me. I have witnessed what the after life holds for me, and I am none to eager to rush into its embrace. I won’t face death again needlessly. I have faith in you, Mandi. You’ll get by, but be careful. The road to Hell is paved with the best of intentions. Trust me on this.” With that, he turned and walked out of the Birdcage, disappearing into the bustling crowd in the street beyond. [/QUOTE]
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