They'd been moving for a while, following Brennan at a subdued pace as he carefully picked his way through the city streets. Each pathway he chose proved to be nearly desolate, solidifying his extensive knowledge of Wulfdonria's under workings. After what seemed like miles they found themselves in a more amiable part of town, standing in front of a quaint building decorated with creeping vines and a brass fashioned sign marking it as Madame Melinda's Magnificent Marvels.

The name alone was enough to garner Estra's skepticism, but even more so were the sounds of lovemaking that wafted down from the flower-strewn windows overlooking them.

"A whore house Brennan? This is your idea of a hiding place?" Lency asked incredulously. "If anything, we're more likely to be exposed here. The people that work in places like these are often paid more for the information they gather from their clients than the services they render."

The bard made a showy hand gesture as he opened the doorway, allowing the strong scent of incense and forced laughter to waft out of the pretentious interior. "That would be the case for most establishments of this kind, but that matter changes entirely for one in good tithings with the Madame."

Estra looked around the area, checking for the presence of any unwanted eyes. Without seeing many other options, she followed Brennan into the brothel with Lency close behind and found her witch's eyes immediately assaulted by an overwhelming amount of colors, as if someone had seen fit to cram every possible shade into every open crevice of the building's interior. There seemed to be no end to the variety of gaudy furniture and wall ornaments. Along with that blinding kaleidoscope came a seemingly endless array of courtesans from the furthest reaches of the world.

Striding fully naked all around them were enormous women from the high mountains of northern Iss, thin elfin men from the deep canyon cities of the Midanian empire, and even more that Estra couldn't quite match to a particular heritage. The most intriguing of them all was a short person with flowing red hair and a sandy blonde beard that could have easily been a man or woman from what Estra could tell. This strange character glided towards them in a luxuriously fluffed overcoat, bearing a coy smirk, half hidden behind a jewel-encrusted fan.

"It is so wonderful to see you again Madame," Brennan said with an overly exaggerated bow.

"Oh, no need for such a display, especially not from my favorite customer," Madame Melinda chuckled.

Even the Madame's voice was misleading. Estra was almost brought to the point of a headache trying to figure this strange specimen out.

"And what's more, you've brought guests!" The Madame said, flapping her fan towards the two women. "Though don't you think for a moment that I'll be charging you the group rate. With that show you put on for my darlings during your last visit, you've paid for you and your friends tenfold."

Brennan laughed heartily, though Estra could see the embarrassment outlining his cheeks. "No, I haven't come for my regular fare I'm afraid. My companions and I actually find ourselves in a small predicament. We're actually in need of private rooms at the moment." He'd stretched out the word just enough for his meaning to get across clearly.

The Madame's eyes widened slightly in as she caught the bard's meaning. "Ah, I'd heard whispers of some trouble you'd gotten yourself into, though I hoped it was nothing but a foul rumor," the Madame said. "Well, if privacy is what you need, then you've come to the right place. I'll see to it that you'll not be disturbed during your stay here... unless it's a certain kind of disturbance, that is."

Brennan's eyes grew alight with sinful desire at the Madame's inquiry. "I may have to take you up on that offer," he said wolfishly. "But for now, rooms are all we're in need of."

The Madame giggled, fluttering her fan against her batting eyelashes as she turned towards the spiraling staircase. "Of course, follow me then."

Estra ascended the marble steps at the back of the group, doing her best to avoid the lustful gazes of the many courtesans she passed, failing when she spotted a curvaceous redhead with a face like a fox. In the course of one day, she'd killed eight people, attended a circus, and now she found herself striding the steps of a whore house. So much had occurred that she didn't know which of her rampant thoughts should be given precedence.

All she could think to do was walk behind her new group of comrades and whisper to herself. "Angels of paradise forgive me, what have I gotten myself into."