2019.09.14 Prospect 1881 - The Brothel
| Prospect 1881 - The Brothel | |
|---|---|
| Devil's Own roll into Prospect looking for answers | |
| IC Date | 1881 |
| IC Time | Evening (Half Moon) |
| Players | Pancake, Branton, Jes, Isla |
| Location | Prospect, CA 1881 |
| Prp/Tp | Ravenscar |
| Spheres | Garou, Gaian, |
Frostbite and Devil's Own (and friends) set off together from Ravenscar, following the most direct path they can. After a few tries, Micah is able to catch the sense of one of the children, once he does he begins to push them as fast as he can. The party spreads out in order to find clear travel paths, those who can take their wolves (or big cat or bird) when they are able, but unless they spend the resources to dedicate their new clothing to themselves, they are forced to travel by foot. As evening approaches, Micah alerts the party that he has lost the sense of the kids, but continuing on in the direction they were already headed, they come over a slope of hills and see a western boom town stretching all the way to the ocean.
Iris is good with walking, she did it all lthe way from Maine, so why the hell not across time and oldass landscapes to Prospect as well! Still though, she catches herself up to Isla right quick for a chat. "So, if what little I remember and have seen on TV is to be believed, I think we're in an era that's not very nice to people whose balls are way up on their chest. I THINK you can still get respect here as a woman, but I also think it might be super easy to frenzy, soooooo maybe we should like buddy up a little bit? You know, keep each other from beating someone to death with like a shoe or... whatever."
Isla will walk as well, because she can handle that - although she carries the boots because high heels on this terrain isn't going to be fun - and in this outfit? "Aye, Goop Mistress. I hear ye. I'm bound to stick one of these heels up someone's ass and it come out their mouth. Best not to do that here. Too many questions and they hang people I'm sure." She taps on a small pocket she has made in this outfit of hers, where she has stuck a small mirror within. "Remind me to use that if the time comes. Best to make them lose it than me." Because why not make the other side freak out? Sorta like a tornado appearing within a general store (that the player TOTES did in the one RPG she ever played...)
Trudge, trudge, trudge. The Devil's Own are all decked out in cowboy cosplay, doing their thing like they do, but none of them bothered with actual horses. It's a little less impressive, but then it's not very impressive to sit a horse when you don't know how, either. For his part, Jes just picked out clothes to match Ben Foster in '3:10 to Yuma', decked out like Charlie Prince and hopefully looking like he means business. He keeps practicing his quick draw and gun twirl, occasionally sneaking looks at Isla's legs in her fishnets while they march march march toward their brothel destination. As an aside to the ladies, he comments, "I mean, if they assume you've shown up looking for work, you may get some small grace period for being pushy, I guess...."
Branton has a lot of fun with the enchanted wardrobe, making himself up a fancy old west gentleman's suit that looks fancy and conceals his excessive bling, except for the number of rings might stand out. He is also fine with walking, especially if he's leaving behind his hiking stuff. Nodding in agreement he adds "We also should be mindful of not having local currency."
As you enter the city, the two packs split off to search for their respective targets: Frostbite and Friends to find the Saloon Branton saw in his vision, and Devilâs Own the Brothel. Prospect 1881 is a city on the rise. You can tell that it is beginning to boom by all the FOR SALE signs along the road as you walk into town.
Iris didn't see any horses in the wardrobe! And they would have been made out of silk anyways. You cant sit on a silk horse! "Damn it! It's against my religion to give blowjobs for food money. Jes, it's up to you! Whore like our lives depend on it! Or maybe just play poker..."
Isla will slip on those heeled boots, and while staying near Isla, she will be sure that Jes is close by her side - since it will make more sense and all. Either she's his wife, or his harlot. Well, considering the outfit? Heh. "We check out the brothel, and then we need money, I'm sure Jes can get it from poker. We'll figure it out. Just one step at a time..speaking of - watch out for that pile over there." She does know horses.
The further into town you go, the more bustling it becomes as people come in for the night and flood the burgeoning Gaslamp district. The sounds of laughter, music, and general carousing begins to filter into the streets. Devil's Own separates from Frostbite and then split into pairs as they make their way down the street. Branton and Iris draw some eyes, mostly people taking notice of their fine clothing and foreign air. People begin to take notice of Jes and Isla though. Groups part to let them pass. Women walk their children away quickly, covering their eyes at Isla's lewd appearance. Jes looks like an outlaw so the two do look quite the pair. Like a pair of trouble.
Jes stops playing with his pistols to pull out his deck of cards, shuffling them to himself and shrugging. "I mean, if these babies work they way they're supposed to, then yeah; I can maybe turn that around for us," he offers, but adds, "But it's not like I can go on some legendary winning streak and not get noticed. Maybe provide enough to spread around, though.". He picks up on people's reactions to him and to Isla pretty quickly, smirking and muttering aside, "I think we're famous, Peach.".
"...Hey what's the penalty for horse thievery in this day and age? Just... Just out of curiosity." Iris asks Branton quietly, just out of curiosity. And he knows everything, surely! Already aware that she wasn't going to Do It Quite Right, she was expecting some Looks, but it's still SUPER weird and takes a lot of effort to not really react. "You know what, if we didn't have like a gaggle of missing friends and stuff, I'd have some fun with this. And somehow I cant remember ANY parlance I've heard on any westerns! ... Except from Serenity. And 'Pilgrim', I remember 'Pilgrim'."
Branton chuckles at Iris and shakes his head, he does know this one "Hanging I think. If the owner doesn't just shoot you. I've got some that I remember, we could always go mostly with greek between eachother."
Isla waves to the people as they shy away from them. She smirks a bit when Jes mentions that, "Aye Sprinkles. Well, much like Bonnie and Clyde, we are trouble, and trouble can be fascinating." Since none are in their way, she leads them through the town, looking for the brothel which shouldn't be too difficult to find they hope. Of course, taking note of other things they see in this up and coming version of Prospect.
The town isn't that large and there aren't that many places to look. The hardest part really, is letting go of the modern day knowledge of what Prospect is supposed to be. No paved roads - indeed the roads are thick with mud after a unseasonal storm recently came though. Wagons dig thick rivets and as Isla has already pointed out, horses don't care where they leave their shit. Isla has no problem though treating THIS prospect as new territory and simply follows the crowds.
Finally the group comes to the Gaslamp district proper. The proper heart of the night time business of the city, it looks to be slowly fading into decadence as the more "reputable" business relocate to the newer areas of the city. Hotels, bars, true western saloons and brothels have begun to take their place. Actual GAS LAMPS are lit along the roads. You hear music, people going in and out of several saloons. Ladies of the night leaning over balconies to get men to come into brothels. Barkers call to Iris and Branton, offering to find them a room for the night or an evening of entertainment. A few dust covered men begin to whistle and catcall Iris as she walks down the street with Jes, making lewd gestures and propositions.
Jes just smirks as the catcalling begins, rolling his eyes and glancing aside at Isla. "You do this shit on purpose," he chides playfully, giving her a slight bump with his elbow and keeping his eyes peeled for anything unusual. He pointedly does NOT play with his guns; that simply wouldn't do now that they're in town.
~Good call.~ Iris tells Branton in Greek. Keeping up and staying on Jes and Isla's heels, she also does a lot of super fascinated looking around. Cause this is not at all the Prospect she knows! GAAAAAAAASP! She points. "It's so *fluffy*!" It's a dress in a shop window. Shut up, she can totally like dresses! Even if she typically dresses herself like a middle schooler that lives in a park. She speaks out-loud to Branton, but she also thinks it through the pack-link, ~Hey, I've been here! I think there's a vegan restaurant or something where that collection of outhouses is.~ Which somehow totally makes sense!
You have no problem finding the brothel. A few landmarks from your vision stand out. You look up at the position of the moon in the sky and mark the angle that it was in the sky in the vision and BOOM, you find the brothel sitting on a corner of two streets.
Branton laughs and nods at iris as he looks over at what she's noticing. And then he points over at the brothel ~There we go. This is when we're supposed to be.~
Isla grins and waves to the men that gives her the cat calls. She even blows a kiss towards one and laughs to jes. "Aye, well, if ye got it flaunt it when needed. Dinnae ye have me do this back to help yer sister?" Ah and Branton has spotted it. "Well there we go. Let's check it out."
"Touche," Jes acknowledges with a laugh, reaching into his pocket to pull out a cigarillo and leaning out to light it on one of the gaslamps. He puffs away on it happily, adjusting his hat and putting on a pair of wire-frame glasses with rose lenses for effect. NOW it looks like a red light district. He glances aside to Isla and asks, "So you want us all to go in together?", just checking for a plan.
The two story brothel on the corner is just picking up for the night. Music spill out from the front door, enticing passerby's on the street inside. Or maybe, just maybe, it is the ladies leaning over the balcony on the second floor, overlooking the street, dressed in outfits very reminiscent of Isla's. They call out to men on the street, flirting and promising all kinds of devilish delights. A sign on the balcony reads in bold letters, MAGIC MYSTERY. In smaller, more stylized letters above those it reads, "Greta's". The interior is brightly lit and purple, green and gold colors can be seen within.
Iris gathers on up when their target is found and plans are in the making, "I gotta admit I'm feeling completely lost right now. I don't... I don't know how to *do* this." People have never been Iris's forte, and now she's with WEIRD people, in a weird time, having to track in a way she's never tracked before: information and people. "Just like, 'Oh hey, horny sir, you haven't seen a flock of kidnapped short people, have you?" Also, just in case there was a question about it, she keeps her voice reeeeeeeal quiet, and makes the important parts mental-only.
Isla looks to Jes, and grins. "Yer up, cowboy." He's the smooth talker, the man with the plan and all - on the fly. "Aye, we go in together. Ye can offer me to work there if ye wish. Perhaps we can chat with some of the ladies within?" She looks to Iris. "I bet they would have information. More than the men."
Branton grins and shrugs at Iris "I've got some ideas about how to ask around. Gotta edge around it carefully, like find out some stuff that'll tell us like trail sign. Ask about that rather than going direct."
"Good theory, but how do you put it into practice?" Jes replies to Branton with a quirked eyebrow, spreading his hands. "'I keep noticing small footprints in the dust' or something? I mean, seriously; if you've got an actual tactic to share, I'm all ears."
He turns his gaze to Isla, chuckling a bit, and says, "Okay, so... we're relying on my detective work. Awesome. This can't possibly go sideways. At all."
Iris inwardly wails a bit, but tries to dig up the strumph of some kinda rootin tootin 'I'm gonna be a Madame one day!' kinda gusto. Or something. Isla would be the enthusiastic, strong arming Irish whore that gets into gun fights with tiny adorable pistoles in this narative, surely. Iris is more the sullen wench, probably! She too looks to Branton though, eager for direction.
Jes leads the group into the Brothel, his feet just start to seem moving of their own accord. His palm's itch from all the money he might be about to win maybe. Or maybe its the 1881 booze, or the girls or or... he goes in. Entering the brothel, the senses are assaulted. The walls, tables and windows are overly trussed in purples, greens and golds. A small stage housing a band that sports a piano, and clarinet player and a horn player. A handful of scantily glad women roam around the room, plying men with drinks. There are several gambling tables arrayed to one side offering poker and some kind of dice game. A bar lines the right wall, large mirrors behind shelves of liquors. The most flamboyishly dressed woman is a large round older woman in a green gown and covered in jewelry - obviously the madame. The clientele look a mixture of upper crust Prospectians and working class men who want to have a story to tell of the time they went to a "high class" brothel. Pick you sin and settle in.
Branton nods and considers as he follows in "Well we know for sure we're in the right place so Detective work sounds like the order of the day. Just remember we're after folks with powers sort of related to mine but less White Hat." Thinking for a moment "How's this for a play. I'm a wealthy foriegn investor and Iris is my wife, Jes is my american guide and Isla is....suggesting investment opportunities. Maybe? Also, someone inside has power enough to lure customers. They may not be with the bad guys but I wouldn't rule it out."
Isla hmms, "Nae bad, Fire Man." Although suggesting investment opportunities... well... that can go several ways it seems. "Where do we want to start then?" Looking around the room and taking it all in. Too obvious to hit up the madame first it seems to her at least.
"Yeah, perfect," Jes replies to Branton while only half-listening, his mind working up a plan of his own while the sorcerer speaks. Oh no; that does not bode well for group cohesion. His boots bring him on in with a spin of spurs quite by their own design, but soon enough he's setting the path and walking right up to the Madame and dipping his hat.
"The arrangement was forty dollars each to deliver these fine professional ladies to your establishment," Jes states boldly and directly, tilting his head toward Isla and Iris after he's taken his cigarillo out of his mouth, "and I'm assuming the doctor who came along with them to check your girls is just as valuable. As we've now crossed the threshold of your establishment, madame, the bill has come due, begging your pardon."
Iris, sullen wench extraordinaire, is quiet for now and just goes with the flow. One of these days, she's going to have to find out if her mom still exists or not, and explain that one time her pack's beta totally sold her and the alpha to a brothel and both promoted her fiance to doctor and also demoted him to vag specialist, and some how NO ONE COMPLAINS ABOUT IT AT ALL! Jes is like some kind of narrative god or something, just Loki-ing his way through life befuddling Furies and twirling Ahrouns and romancing the wallets of Big Bertha Madams. Fuckin cray, y'all.
Madame Gerta turns her attention from the regulars that she is entertaining and feasts her eyes on the outlaw in front of her. She looks him up and down and licks her lips as if she has just had a tasty treat placed on a platter in front of her and she hasn't eaten all day. She lifts a finger to her teeth and gives it a little bite. "Well, aren't you the most scrumptious delivery boy I ever did meet, honey." She reaches down and puts her hand on his arm, giving his muscle a squeeze. With her other hand she takes the cigarillo from his hand and puts it to her own lips for a puff as she drinks him in. ""Forty dollars each? I can't believe I would agree to such an amount, you would have to be delivering the most delicious snatch this side of...IDA BAILEY?! Is that you?" She pushes Jes aside and steps out to have a look at Isla. "My lord woman you look like you've gotten even YOUNGER since I last saw you! Are you coming to work for me? I thought you were too good for the common brothel." She looks back over to the bartender, "Pay this cowboy and find him some pussy to put in his lap. Me and Ida have some catching up to do."
Isla does not know who this Ida Bailey is, nor if she is anything at all like her. So when in Rome! "Work for ye? I am too brilliant to be in any common brothel. But ye have elevated this place to something above it. Perhaps now is a good time fer us to work together." She grins and winks to her. "We could make something more of this place, with me friends help here."
The madame scoffs. "I just paid this man $40 for the privilege of your delivery. Let's not get to talking partnership until you've paid off that debt." She slaps Isla on the rump - a good hardy slap with a squeeze at the end. "If I wasn't down a few girls right now, I wouldn't dare pay something so ridiculous. Why don't you and your new friend go up to the stage and put on a little show for the customers, let me have a good look at the new offerings. Not that you ain't already showing them quite a bit, you wonderful hussy."
Branton does his best to look intelligent and forgein for all he's the whitest whitey to ever white. He gives the madame of the house a sketchy little bow and gestures over to the bar area and puts on a accent "We wait?" reminding her that he and Iris exist.
Iris suddenly perks up and says, mostly to Branton in quiet but mimicked accent, "Look, boy whores! How considerate!" Those might not even be boy whores, they might just be dudes with style. She don't know! Her brows shoot right upwards though with Isla becomes IDA BAILEY! all of a sudden and quirks a grin at the Fianna while getting out of the way and not blocking the woman. "Nice job, cowboy." she asides quietly at Jes.
AH FUCK. Iris glances towards the stage, then to Isla, then back to the stage! Having a quick shot - she doesn't care who it actually belonged to - for liquid courage, she hikes up her lady balls and starts on up there with or without 'Ida'. Because yeah, when in Rome! And it's for the kids. Weirdest fucking charity event ever, but still.
The madame turns her attention on the 'Doctor'. "You'll have to miss the show I'm afraid," I actually have a few girls upstairs who are feeling a bit sickly. Rough night last night I'm afraid. I need your professional opinion on when I can put them back to work. Make sure they don't have any diseases." She waves over a short, stout, ovoid looking man with wet features, beady eyes and a little piggy looking nose. "Joey will take you up and show you the girls."
Isla looks quickly back at the lady when she smacks her backside and if Iris wasn't already nearly up on stage, she woulda decked the woman right there. She shoots a look to Jes, and then shuts her damn mouth and catches up with Iris. Once close by, she whispers, "What are we going to do?"
Well, that went /swimmingly/. Jes is fine being manhandled a bit, fine having his cigarillo stolen by the sterling businesswoman he's just rooked, and fine striding right over to the bartender and leaning on the counter confidently as he looks the man in the eye. "That's a hundred and twenty American, slim, and not in pesos or settlement scrip. I want money that spends easy just in case I decide I need a new hat."
He hasn't so much abandoned his pack as left them to see what they can do; he's right there at the bar, listening, in case he needs to bail them out. "And a bourbon, sil vous plait," he adds, just leaning into this mysterious outlaw schtick he's adopted. Now it's up to the ladies to do whatever kind of strumpet shimmy they're going to invent. Should be entertaining. He gives Isla a wink of confidence at her look, because hey... she told him to improvise a plan.
Iris has NO IDEA! But she wings it. "Okay, I see two fans on that wall, I'm gonna get 'em. Then um... we're gonna switch dresses! I mean, how fucking hard could that be." This is all going to end in tears and broken furniture. So she gets those big fancy fans, which totally exist, gives 'em a couple snaps, and gives Isla the 'I regret every decision I've ever made, I just want you to know that and I'm sorry' look before gesturing at ye olde bande.
The bartender looks at Jes with disgust. It seems to pain him to have to fork out this money. He calls someone over to stand between him and Jes as he gets in the money till and take out the money. When he bring it back he counts out6 crisp $20 bills.
Then he takes back one of the bills to pay for the bourbon which he takes from the top shelf, because the cowboy can afford it. He pours the drink, a double, and gives him the change.
At the signal from Iris, the band begins to play a bawdy tune which immediately gets the attention of everyone in the room. The patrons perk up in excitement and the other ladies of the night look at their new 'coworkers' with a critical gaze.
Branton nods at the mention of someone needing medical attention. Taking out a small silver pendant that could be taken for a saints medal if Branton doesn't let them get too close a look. Muttering what could be mistaken for a prayer, especially if you don't speak classical greek, Branton takes a look around before following Joey upstairs.
Jes accepts his filthy lucre with a syrupy smile and slides his gangster roll into his pocket, accepting his bourbon and turning his eyes to the stage. There was a promise of female companionship, but that can wait; this is way more important. This is like a solar eclipse or something. This is his packmates whorin' it up Broadway-style. You don't skip that.
Branton scans the room for signs of magic or other supernatural powers. There is definitely magic coming from the band. From the clarinet player specifically. There is also someone sitting at one of the gambling tables using some form of hedge magic. As you go upstairs there seems to be a strong magical residue covers the walls as if you were looking at a murder scene with one of those UV lights. It isn't ACTIVE magic, but it is leftover magic. It's strongest in the room furthest back.
Isla takes a fan, and figures - good enough for Star Trek - good enough here. The music starts, and she wills move with it, turning this way and that, not much more she can expose to show off much more, but she can make some more suggesting hints - the fan being a help. She looks to Iris to begin whatever switcheroo thing, since well - Isla has the more difficult to slip off sort of dress. At that point she will probably be helping with both fans - and this is going to get tricky!! A few slips here and there, showing off a little more skin as the whole dance gets going, hopefully the crowd gets into it and they can /earn/ their worth.
Joey leads Branton around the back of the room so as not to alert the patrons to any trouble upstairs. As he reaches the stairs he glances back at Branton skeptically, "You don't carry a medical bag. How are you to examine the girls?"
Branton looks at his hands and then Joey, persisting with the accent some "I still have my senses. They will have to suffice, and I can improvise a bit. I was not expecting to go to work immediately but I will of course see what I can do." Looking around he gestures at the room furthest back "Is it there? Perhaps?"
The crowd definitely starts to get into it. From the getgo Isla seems to be the main attraction. Prospect 1881 doesn't have the overabundance of redheads that it does in the modern day, so a ginger of Isla's caliber is quite the treat. And everyone knows what they say about redheads! The men begin to clap, a few whistle, and chairs are pulled closer. Even some of the men at the gambling table take their eyes off their cards to watch the show as it gets underway.
Iris snaps open a fan and begins a um... Well I mean technically this isn't a dance, this is just changing clothes. They're forced to pass the fans back and forth because whoever invented women's clothes in the eighteenfuckinghundreds should be shot. Was the zipper THAT difficult to think up?? "Please don't belt me right in the face." Iris says just for Isla alone before cheekily snapping the fan covering her bewbs closed for JUST a second before it's flashed open again. MAYBE someone got a nip slip, maybe it's just wishful thinking. The same fan snap happens when the dress is getting slid down, a flash of cheek and under things but it's mostly left to the imagination.
And of course Iris is aware that Isla's going to do the same damned thing to her as well, so she's not a dick about it! She HAS seen burlesque before though, she's not flying completely blind here! Silky things are flung, a dress is passed to Iris, and with some very, veeeeeeery close lady on lady sliiiiding, Iris ends up in front with her own garment loosened up, ready to slip off and replace.
Joey looks skeptically at Branton, saying curtly, "No. That room is off limits. It hasn't been cleaned up from last night." He puts his hand on Branton's arm and turns him to a room on the opposite side of the hall. "In here the girls are."
Girl on girl action! these girls are ahead of their times! The crowd goes wild at the 'tit'illation of possible nip slip. The lower class patrons are practically salivating.
Over at the gambling table Jes sees one of the gamblers fingering a pendent around his neck as he watches Iris and Isla dance. He seems to be 'less enthused' than the other onlookers, but it paying attention to them more closely.
Jes hoots and hollers as eagerly as anyone, finishing his bourbon and laughing before pushing up from the bar and doing a little recon from where he's standing. Nothing obvious, but sharp eyes do catch a few interesting tidbits, such as the fella at the gambling table fussing with some sort of pendant. ~~ Mutton chops at the poker table has suspicious eyes on the ladies, ~~ he tells the pack, checking to see if he can spot... nope, no Branton. Why did he think he'd be able to spot Branton? So instead he works his way near the poker table, waiting for an open seat. Seating at the gambling table comes easily enough since everyone's attention is on Isla and Iris assets.
Isla hears the note from Jes, and while naked, trying to get Iris out of her dress and not expose herself, she will peak toward the guy and PURPOSEFULLY flash him a grin and a wink. Why not? Distract him a bit, while letting some skin slip perhaps? Before she knows it, she gets Iris' dress off WITHOUT SEEING ANYTHING SHE SHOULDN'T and carefully slips it on herself... trying...tugging! Then will help Iris.
Branton nods at Joey and knocks on the door to the room Joey said the girls were in, waiting for either the occupants to answer because he's polite like that.
Upstairs, Joey reaches in and just opens the door. Inside there is a bed with two rather wan looking women in it. Both are blonde and in their late 20s Branton would guess. They are in nightclothes and covered with a sheet. There is a sickly sweetness to the smell of the air. Joey closes the door, "This man is a doctor. He will do the checking on you." Then he stand in front of the door.
Iris and Isla are neither the same height, nor are they the same body type, this little act was always destined to have a comedic end due to those facts alone. When the ever so carefully unrevealed dress swapping is completed and these girls - who have clearly spent time in FRANCE or something with all their pseudo lesbian action - reveal the results of the entire exchange... Iris is probably swimming in Isla's dress, and her boobs do NOT fill it out as well as the other woman's did, likely leaving it loosely open and low slung. By contrast, Isla's probably bursting Iris's dress a little bit, there's no way the entirety of the front is going to get closed and it's too short besides. Get a look at them *ankles*, fellas! WOO!
QUIETLY to Isla while they're accepting their applause, Iris asks, "...If I name Branton and my's first child after you, even if it's a boy, do you think you could Hulk flex out of that dress and like, actually shoot someone lethally with a boob-flying button?" NOT that she's asking Isla to DO that... Really... Mostly... But like, *could* she do it.
Oh there is applause. Audience jumps to their feet and begin shouting, some even come towards the stage as they might try and grab a feel of Isla when she bursts from the dress. The madame intervenes "Now now boys. These two find ladies are just in and have come all the way from... PARIS FRANCE just to perform that little show for you. Now who would like to spend the evening with one of them?!" She laughs baudily and full bodily as men start to shout and then she proceeds to start a bidding war between the patrons for the right to bed Iris and Isla.
During this distraction, the man at the gambling table take his hat and begins to take his leave, gathering his winnings and starting to head towards the door.
"Hell, I don't blame you, son," Jes says teasingly to the departing gambler, giving him a cocky grin. "Fella like me comes up to the table, well, I guess I might take my money and run, too. I guess there's no shame in that; some men just know they're outclassed when they wake up in the morning. Must be an interesting life, being that man."
The gambler glances over at Jes but doesn't take the bait. "I will have to let these other gentlemen take what money you have sir. Perhaps another day we can do battle for the hand of lady luck. But not today. I know when my luck as turned." He tips his hat to Jes and begins to make for the exit.
Iris, now wearing far less than she'd generally like, tries to not implode and give her half-skirt's ruffles a rustle while being essentially auctioned off over here. ~~I think we're too occupied to stop the guy,~~ Iris thinks out over the pack link, and looks to Isla, ~~Although Isla might be able to get him with a button!~~
Upstairs, to Branton's eyes the girls' bodies light up like X-mas trees. Their skin covered in faint traces of arcane symbols similar to the ones you saw on the banes you fought the night before. Some of them seem to be draining their life essence (or was draining their life essence from them).
~~ Yeah, I don't have any dirty tricks to pull, ~~ Jes replies over the pack link before tipping his hat and taking a seat at the poker table, waiting to be dealt in. Some battles you don't win right up front.
Isla watches this go down, while trying to keep some of her dignity. If Jes cannot stop the guy, maybe she can help? Even half naked here since thie dress is going to bust open. ~ Aye, well, lemme try something here. ~ She gives a bit of a lip pout and then waves her hand gesturing for Mr.MuttonChops. "Oh honey? Dinnae ye want a chance with me? I saw ye lookin and ye can see more if ye stick around and make a bid. I promise.." she drags her finger over her chest "cross me heart that I'll give ye something special."
As the bidding continues, with the patrons most eager to get their hands on the woman who is about to burst from her seems (sorry Iris), a couple of the regular ladies make their way over to the gambling table and drape themselves over Jes - the new high roller. One of them give his cheek a little pinch and the other whisper some suggestive things they could do that would be a better use of his money.
Branton putters about for a bit in the room upstairs. Checking pulses, taking temperature, and that sort of thing. He frowns at Joey "They are certainly unwell but I think I know what can help them. A wash basin, some cloths, and a pitcher of cool water please."
Something special?! The mutton chops man doesn't seem interested, he actually starts to walk faster. But everyone else is interested and the bids start to go higher. Gerta grins as big as the kool-aid man screaming OH YEAH!
Upstairs, Joey nods and steps out of the room to retrieve what has been asked for.
From somewhere outside, Branton hears the sounds of yelling and soon after the sound of shattered glass. Joey sits things aside and goes to a window. He gives a surprised curse and then there is the sounds of a shotgun blast. Downstairs, Isla hears none of this over the crowd of people bargaining for her flesh, but Iris and Jes do. Jes quickly removes himself from the table and darts for the door. ~I'll check it out, might be the kids.~
Joey goes running for the door, leaving the basin and the cloths behind. "Stay here," he says to Branton as he goes downstairs to figure out what the hell is going on.
Suddenly a bit more worried than usual but unable to see, Iris nods at the mental message from Jes. Part of her worry is about anyone else in here adding to the kerfuffle, or being potential witnesses to something, and thus liabilities. Casually picking something off the stage floor with her toes, she hikes her leg back up behind her back, partially dislocates one hip while standing on one leg so that she can bring her foot all the way up over her shoulder and drop the thing into her hand before offering this lost hair clip (or whatever) to the Madame. Just making sure no one's going to put their attention where they shouldn't. Iris also puts her foot back down. That'd be awkward.
Branton looks curiously after Joey as he heads out and keeps tending the girls. Singing what sounds lulaby-ish in classical greek as he gives them a sorcery enhanced sponge bath, cleansing them of lingering siphons and residues.
Some of the clientele no longer in the bidding make their way to the exit to see what all the noise is about. Might be a shootout! Or a duel! Others suddenly get very interested in Iris. That girls is very... flexible.
The madame also takes the hairpin and looks... impressed. Best money she has ever spent.
That all being done Branton will peer out into the hall and sneak down to that room he was told was off limits while Joey is occupied.
As Branton opens the door to the off limits room upstairs his physical and magical senses are both assaulted. The smell of sex and blood and alcohol and drugs are in the air. The walls are painted with all sorts of arcane sigils, many of them in blood. Many of them look like bastardized Garou runes. A pile of debris from the night has been swept into a corner. There is a body with a sheet over if it laying in the center of the room.
Isla sees the people leaving, and wonders what is going on. She just waits to see if they get sold off, where they head to, and then - they can make an escape from this plan hopefully.
Branton enters the room carefully, giving the symbols on the walls a look over as he heads over to check the pile of debris first. His nifty new watch can't see all the way back to last night but he still might be able to learn something.
After what seems like an eternity, two men step forward, one young and dashing, with ruddy cheeks, the other a whale of a man with sagging jowls and they are presented with Iris and Isla respectively.
Branton takes out the fetish watch he found in the rubble of Ravenscar and activates it. Not much has changed in the last hour. The only thing he sees is a brief discussion between Joey and well-dressed man exchanging money and a promise to get rid of the evidence. The unknown man wears the symbol of the Weeping Moon Society. Going to the corner he sifts through the swept up debris: Ritual paraphenalia. Burnt candles. A man's kerchief covered in stuff he probably doesn't want to touch.
~~Something's going on outside,~~ Iris says mentally through the pack link, ~~Dunno what but I think I heard gun shots. I dunno if it's anything to do with Jes or just a cowboy thing though. Gaia this is crazily uncomfortable! Okay, you know how to do a choke hold without killing someone, right? I think we should do that, then we can meet up in private.~~ Iris eyes her land yacht for a moment, and then adds, ~~...I might need a minute to find his neck.~~ SIGH. "Alright, missure," She dont speak friggin French, y'all, "Let us see if you can keep up wis moi." Might as well have some fun with this, and given that she has NO idea where the fuckin happens in this place and cant lead the way, she just hurls herself off of the stage and at her client, clinging like a god damned spider monkey and smacking with her heels as if she had spurs, which she does not, and yelling "YEEE HA!" (re, grr.)
Isla looks over her lad, and with those boots on still, she takes a more 'lady like' approach and walks down from the stage, and offers her hand to the man, all polite and princess like. "Lead the way fer yer good time, which I promise will be something ye will never forget." Boy she does wish she had better/more clothes on. "I'm sure ye are an expert around here."
The ladies are led upstairs, making enough noise with their patrons that Branton can hear them coming and prepare in case he needs to hide what he is doing. They choose unoccupied rooms and set about their plans.
Isla follows the lead of that whale, with each step studying him, and how best to deal with him. Inside the unoccupied room they have claimed, she asks, "Ye wish to undress me yerself? Ye have any special requests?" Granted, her request would be to shove the boot up his ass, but we shall wait and see. She makes sure the door is to her back, so the guy is more cornered than she is.
The man's face reddens with an eager look of desire and he almost immediately begins to sweat - not a nervous sweat, but a rather disgusting one. It is easy to imagine that his hands would be moist and clammy at the touch. He wiggles fat round fingers in the air eagerly and in a deep baritone, "I will take my time unwrapping you once I have you laid out nice and quiet." And with that, he rumbles forward, hands reaching for your throat.
Isla sees those grubby hands coming near her, and since they are all alone, she isn't going to buy anymore of this crap. Her hand quickly balls up as he is close enough, and she swings! She hits him right in the sweet spot on his jaw, and waits to see if the gross sweaty whale will go down - or if his flubber protects him and she needs to take it up a notch.
The well padded gentleman jerks his head at the punch, he jaw shifting awkwardly to one side and pressing his chin in, giving him a noticeable under bite. He makes a startled and offended noise, "Oh my! Wha- what have you? Ahh! My jaw! Something is wrong with my..." His eyes go wide and his whole body makes a gurgling noise. He reaches for his face just as he mouth gapes open and begin spewing foul smelling liquid at Isla.
The attack is crude, but as an ahroun, Isla sees it coming from a mile away. The liquid spews forth, missing her and coating the door with the vomitous contents of the man's stomach. The door begins to sizzle as if struck by acid and the room begins to fill with a noxious smell.
Isla dodges, and as the spewing continues, she wriggles out of Iris' dress and reaches behind the manwhalebeast and gets her hands in there to choke him out.
Across the hall, Branton can hear a scuffle beginning in one of the rooms where the he Iris and Isla go.
Isla leaps on the whale man's back in nothing but her skivvies and wraps her arms around his thick neck. He stumbles around the room with her on his back, unable to buck her off. He moan and wheezes in confusion, "What...do...me..."
Branton hears the ruckus as he continues going over the crime scene room and chuckles, no one's screaming yet so he figures doesn't need to rescue anyone from anyone.
The bulbous man falls forward onto his knees, his face going from a ruddy red to a quickly darker blue. The man's stomach continues to gurgle and and his skin pours sweat as he falls forward face first onto the ground.
Isla grabs anything she can, and gets about to tying this guy up. Keeping away from the fumes and his mouth as much as she can. She'll keep an eye on him to see if anything comes out... or tries to.
Across the hall, the noises seem to have stopped, for now. Branton continues to investigate the room that looks like a magical murder scene to his senses. In the debris he has found a number of ritual elements amoung the debris and a man's kerchief with unspeakable fluids on it. There is still a body lying in the middle of the room, covered in a sheet.
Branton its going to fish through his pockets and pouches for a piece of quartz crystal and the silver necklace he prayed over for his detection spell in the brothel common room. Now its obvious that its not stamped with a catholic saint but the three faced hooded visage of Hecate. He needs a more exact read on what magic lingers here than his passive senses will give him. He may also be procrastinating looking right at the body under the sheet.
It has been almost 24 hours since whatever ritual was done here was completed. Since then, the magical energies has begun to degrade, but there are still some things you can tell. There seem to have been several layers of magic going on, some of it meant to open up the senses, some meant to channel power toward a greater working. The primary focus was to harness and bind great spiritual power towards a target. It's easy to guess what that target was. THIS is the place that the ritual used to destroy Raven's Rock was performed. Spirits were summoned, spirit were commanded and bound and if the knowledge you have accumulated in your journey's is correct, these lose paths of hedge magic were used to bring a spiritual Ravaging down upon you all.
Blessedly, the body does not seem to be giving off any magical energy. A casualty of the rite perhaps? A sacrifice to power the ritual? Only one way to find out.
Branton frowns at the confirmation his divinations give as makes another mental note to add some anatomy texts and forensics manuals to his learning stack when he gets back to his proper era he approaches the body carefully and picks up one corner of the sheet slowly.
Under the sheet there is the naked body of a dark haired woman, possibly of Spanish or Mediterranean descent. Her chest has a puncture wound in it where is looks like she has been stabbed in the heart by a knife. Blood trickles from her mouth. Her eyelids are open, but the light has gone out of them.
Branton frowns as he lifts the sheet further, avoiding touching the body but giving a cursory look over for other injuries. Signs of torture or mutilation would indicate things about the magic in use and the magician casting it.
There are definitely signs that the young woman was bound in some way. There are marks on her wrist and ankles that looks like, burn marks? Some superficial scratches and scars that look like were... wait... were they healing. You shift the body and her black burly hair rolls off her shoulder and you see it, a crude home done tattoo in the Mark of Diana in her maiden form. This woman was a Black Fury.
Branton lets the body back down gently and respectfully, committing her face and tatoo to memory so he can try and make identification in whichever era. Then he gently closes her eyes, wishing for some currency local to the era. Taking the silk handkerkchief that came with his outfit he secures the one with the fluids on it he's taking as evidence. Even if his own spells won't do the job, one of the shifters has to have a tracking rite or gift that'll do the job. Branton is thinking 'since we can't find the kids, lets find the kidnappers' is the best play at the moment.
Branton gives one last look around the room before heading out to find the others. Planning next steps with just his evidence could be possible but more is always better. A last frown at the dead fury is added and while in the mortal realm Branton's eyes don't actually glow? Clearly he's pissed. Someone will burn for this.
