Watching the Henhouse (with Whitebrand)

[MasterGryph]

A world's history is often described in terms of war and conflict. However, over time, civilizations learn better, gaining a better grasp of morality and the value of peace. But even in worlds where Good and Evil are objective, empowering forces, it can take eons to fully understand their intricacies. And unfortunately there are often setbacks along this path, even major ones where large groups of people after long deliberation decide to put their life on the line in the name of Evil, to increase the amount of pain in the world and make it a worse place.

In a world whose "peoples" and "monsters" were becoming increasingly close as the conflicts that defined their relationships with each other died down and were overcome, the Isntar Empire was founded on such a moral inversion. Deciding that Humanity's specific mixture of traits (including average lifespan and quick learning, in contrast with say, Elves long lifespan and slow development, or Dragons' extreme power and long lifespanbut tendency to stay in one place) made them the destined rulers of the entire planet - and more importantly, that the previous line of thinking worked as an excuse to subjugate everyone else. It would be a long, hard struggle, considering that the power of Good would never again answer to them, and most didn't have the patience to learn how to use cosmic Evil. But what they did have was the willingness to harm others no matter the cost to themselves, and the numbers to accomplish something despite the huge attrition they would suffer.

Mathematics and basic logic suggest that Isntar was inevitably doomed to failure. Unfortunately, the day of their final defeat was still in the future, and we now zoom in from the big picture to a single occupied city, Fystead. It had been majority human from the start, but very accepting of others who chose to live there peacefully, with such integration supported by a local sect of the New Temple of Bahamut. One entrepreneur, Miss Syrene Russet had been working on setting up a deal with a flock of harpies to create an Air Mail service. Then the Isntar invasion happened.

We now zoom in further to "Mizz Russet's" current business, "The Henhouse" brothel. It is an open secret that she employs a number of female monsters, but has ways of concealing that from overseers on official searches. Rumors float about that the occasional customer never comes out again - perhaps Mizz Russet feeds especially annoying or forceful ones to the monster girls (or eats them herself - remember that fox fur they found in her old house?). On that note, it's also known that Mizz Russet is very protective of her girls, monster or not, and has an arrangement with the Cult of Bahamut for medical and protective spells. That temple, likewise, has its own way of not being wiped out by the Isntar, though it changes its approach every so often. But the balance preventing open battle is unstable, and it's only a matter of time before something - one too many Isntar soldiers vanishing on break, one soldier who decides that having a higher personal killcount is worth more than having a brothel around - makes it all crash down.

---

It's into this environment that a certain Silver Dragon decides to visit one day...

[Whitebrand]

Them rise of nationalism, cheered by a charismatic leadership and stoked with xenophobia was a serious concern to the surrounding countries and other forces of the world. Despite the hopes that their madness would stay confined to their borders, their hatred and eager violence burst like an infection and spread their armies to spread their poison.

Whitebrand the Silver had regarded this insanity with growing alarm. His kin tended to view the short-lived human realms as simmering kettles, constantly changing nearly every generation but only rarely making much of a long term difference. Not so here. The Isntar kingdom had graduated into a growing empire, and their hostility to the parahumans and lumimals of the world presented a serious threat.

He had intended to start his personal incursion small, waiting to unleash his true power for a time when it would be the most devastating. For now he had chosen to work with the followers of Bahamut to help the helpless escape the malevolence of the Isntar thugs.

He had hoped that the open secret that was the Henhouse could work as a stop on the way to freedom. Unfortunately they had overplayed their hand. Too many disappearances had gotten attention. Now they were likely in need of escape themselves.

Brand walked among the throng of locals, wearing the shapeless and somewhat bulky garb of the common laborers. He had hidden his long auburn hair under his cap. His tall, broad-shouldered physique, however, was more difficult to hide. He kept his eyes down on the street except for when he had to make sure of his location.

He was armed with the needed passwords to gain him entry and establish his identity. The rest was up to him.

[MasterGryph]

As Brand walked, he'd hear snippets of conversation from both the native citizens and occupying soldiers he passed by. Their voices were low, but he had good hearing.

"-Think the stockpiles will hold up with us cut off like this?" "It should, provided that-"

"-Think we need a better symbol. Seems like everyone uses a bird these days." "Better that than a generic sword." "It can be a rose, for all I care. Focus on your jobs or-"

"-Saw Sarah sneaking off last night to 'play with the chickens.' Explains a bit, doesn't it?" "I don't know. A measuring stick wouldn't go near Horace..."

Soon enough, he spotted the decently-sized building he was looking for. The stylized logo of a large-breasted hen peeking out of a hut left little room for mistakes.

---

Earlier...

"Ah, Fledgeling Sylvia. I hope you're here to tell me that the escape tunnels are going well," Mizz Russet said. The owner of the place looked like she was in her late 20s, and wore loose clothing designed to be practical and able to conceal... various things, while also being attractive enough to not look out of place. She'd done quite a bit to look the part of her current role.

"On schedule. Which is not what you wanted to hear with Isntar starting to move faster," the dragon god worshipper was likewise dressed in clothes practical for her work, and in an attractive style. Though for her temple, that meant attractive to dragons. "However, we've received a message from our Lord. An undercover silver dragon is coming to help."

"Well we can certainly use the help. What exactly does he have in mind?" Russet responded, before thinking of something, "Wait, which dragon?"

"Whitebrand has an idea of how to get your flock to safety," Sylvia said, bracing herself.

"Wh-at?!" Russet strained against a shout. She continued in a hiss, "Of course it would be him. I've heard all about what he thinks safety means for us. Thanks for the warning, but my girls have things hard enough right now "serving" humans. They don't need a job change to outright sex slaves for a... an overgrown teenager who'd eat them all at once when the mood took him."

"I understand your concerns, but can we really afford to reject him? At this rate, some lieutenant is going to burn your house down within the week. He doesn't want to hurt you."

"...Fledgeling Sylvia, were you aware I have some skill with Bardic magic?"

"It's not surprising," the servant of Bahamut cocked her head, wondering where she was going with this.

"Fledgeling Sylvia, we're friends, aren't we?"

"Of course."

Mizz Russet hummed something under her breath, then spoke up again to ask, sweetly, "Sylvia, may I eat you?"

"Odd time to ask, but alright."

"Dismiss Lover's Luncheon. I sincerely apologize for that, Fledgeling. It was very wrong of me. But I needed a strong example. Whitebrand may not want us to feel hurt by him, but between my various talents, I could have made you blissfully happy to pad me out before your Lord himself in the higher plains had to explain how you'd been abused. And Brand's much stronger and magically adept than I am."

"Point taken. But even so, we need him. For all his... adolescence, he's still an improvement over your current state."

Mizz Russet paused, keeping her thoughts to herself, "...So what do we do when he arrives?"

"Well, he'll identify himself by..."

[Whitebrand]

Brand stated at the Henhouse sign for a moment, not quite sure he believed his eyes. The Henhouse had been described as an "open secret"...but the sign was about as in your face as one could get. It would certainly make it harder to move then without noticing. At last he shrugged.


He walked up to the the entrance and tried the handle. Unlocked, of course. The password exchange was probably inside. Her opened the door and stepped in, unsure of what to expect...

[MasterGryph]

Inside might remind Brand of a cramped hotel. Thin hallways and staircases shot off lit by candlelight. Few windows, all of which had been treated to not be seen through. A stall provided the greeter some distance from the "customers."

"Good afternoon," the woman at the front desk setup said, coming to attention. She felt like someone who was good at reading people, and was doing her best to figure him out. "You're a bit early for our top hours. Avoiding the rush, or perhaps... you're the kind of person who plans ahead?"

"In any case, was there something I can help you with?" With no one else around, now would be the time to drop the password.

'Local clothes, but not a face I recognize. It could be him, but better make absolutely sure, Mizz Russet thought to herself, 'Sculpted build - possibly literally. Not my type, but I understand the appeal.'

[Whitebrand]

"I like to plan ahead. I was told to ask for the Anedran Welcome," Brand said with a flirtatious smirk. "I have the coin...do you have the party?"

And there it was. Passwords dropped. What happened from her on was her.

"Miz Russet, I presume?"" He said. "Quite the reputation you have here."

[MasterGryph]

"I play the cards I'm dealt, 'Sir Brand.' I hope you'll forgive me for being sour, dealing with the worst side of people for so long, even to take advantage of it doesn't leave one cheerful," she said, letting some of her Brothel Matron act slip away. Brand would hear a strange clicking sound as she fiddled with something on her desk, "Just signalling someone to take my place up here while we talk further from the public. Follow me."

"Quite a few would want to keep this place around to... indulge their curiosity. Sentiments that I try to promote with my Charms, when the opportunity arises," she pushes against the wall to allow another woman to pass by on the way to the front desk. Unlike Russet, he was sure she was a normal human. Opening a door that looked the same as the others, she led him through an unoccupied bedroom and into a closet - which turned out to hide a basement staircase.

Lit by homemade torches, magical and otherwise, the basement level felt much more active and lived in than the upper floors. Dozens of monsters, Harpies, Lamia, Squirrel and Rabbitkin, and more, plus what seemed to be several human workers supporting their cohorts in their break. Whitebrand even thought he caught a glimpse of a lady werewolf wearing Isntarian colors being comforted by a lover in a side chamber. (No anthro chickens of the same sort as the sign outside, though. That particular breed probably didn't exist in their reality.)

He was attracting attention, though the fact that Russet was leading him made the "residents" inclined to accept his presence. "You might disagree, but I think we should talk about your plans, before making a big announcement about you."

[Whitebrand]

Brand descended the staircase, letting the woman lead the way. His protective instincts were stirred when he saw the frightened people all around.

"I agree with you, actually," Brand said as he made his way through. "I'm afraid we have a few things to talk about."

With that vague hint he fell silent, his eyes taking in they are and structure if the basement halls. The knowledge could be useful for planning.

[MasterGryph]

There had actually been a few intermediate rooms to give visitors the impression of a hidden area without letting on the true scale. Past that was the threshold to the living area, with less organized tunnels and rooms leading off of a common area. A few looked like they might lead to additional entrances to the building above.

Russet led him to a planning room, with maps spread on a large table. The somewhat disorganized spread included the brothel and it's tunnels, the town, the Temple of Bahamut, a general map of the region... It wouldn't take him long from examining how they were marked up to piece together the original plan.

The Temple of Bahamut had been digging its own escape tunnel. It was supposed to meet up with them, then continue to a safe distance from the town. Once it was complete, they would make their escape, walling off part of the tunnel behind them. But that scale of digging, even with the support of divine magic, would take weeks.

"Well then Sir Dragon," she took a seat, and gestured for him to do the same, "What did you have in mind?"

[Whitebrand]

"Your tunnel plan would have worked if you had kept a lower profile," Brand said bluntly as he sat. He gestured at her plan. "As it is, there have been enough disappearances that they can connect to your place. Word above is that there's a new Captain who wants a reputation. As soon as they get a solid enough excuse, they will come down hard on you. Hard.

"I've cultivated a few smuggler contacts and shall we say...more flexible people in law enforcement. A few bribes in they right places should get you and your people out quicker. I do have a final option but I'm quite sure no one would like it much. We can keep that under wraps until we have to consider it."

[MasterGryph]

"And you're sure your contacts can be trusted with this?" she asked, "Most of my... menagerie is very awkward to move, even one by one. The Lamia, for example, take up a lot of space."

She would rather not address the last resort.

[Whitebrand]

"A much as anyone can be around here," Brand said. "I hired a few of your 'clients' as workers. As far the larger luminals go, construction wagons cover a multitude of sins. I got myself a construction contract so supplies going out should be a normal sight. I figure we can start small. Once they get out of the city to my site, getting them out should be child's play."

Brand spoke with confidence,

[MasterGryph]

"I see, that sounds like it could work, yes." Russet admitted, "...What's at your site?"

"If any of them gets caught, it would not only be a tragedy on its own, but would give an even stronger trail to follow."

[Whitebrand]

"The site is a wooden fort with a stone tower," Brand explained. "The process should take a little under six months. It's five kilometers outside of the city limits overlooking a highway to Verbonic with a stop at Hommet. We're laying the ground work right now...which includes a basement area not in the official plans.

"So...do I pass?" He asked.

[MasterGryph]

"...It seems odd that you could have found allies here so quickly, but the plan is good," she responded, "Your construction site is as good a spot as any to escape the region from."

She looked up from the maps at him again, expecting that he had something to add.

[Whitebrand]

"Allies might be a bit too strong a word," Brand admitted. "But money can buy loyalty of a sort. The disappearances have to stop...or at least be kept to a bare minimum. That will get us both time to set things up properly. Once we can get your people out of here, we can use his location to help others...provided that the enemy doesn't try to burn you to the ground."

He smiled winningly. The dragon might be young, but its seemed that he had a few good ideas after all.

Of course he hadn't bought up the subject of compensation at all, she noticed. And considering his reputation...

[MasterGryph]

"I might be able to get some additional assistance on that smuggling operation," Miss Russet commented, allowing a fox tail to stray into Brand's field of view behind her. "As for keeping a lower profile... revenge is one of the most basic urges of sentient beings, but putting a stop to the disappearances is simple. I (and whoever else gets stationed at the front desk) just stop giving the signal that it's safe to eat."

"Now, while I'd like to think that you're supporting us in the name of goodness - or at least excitement, there's no way you're really a paladin, and I can't take anything for granted. Why did you decide to come here?"

[Whitebrand]

Brand actually looked slightly hurt.

"Just because I'm not a paladin doesn't mean I can't play the part. But yeah...i have my own, more long term plans for your place and this city. The empire won't be around forever, after all."

He spoke with a tone that hinted that this was all he was going to say on the subject.

[MasterGryph]

While modern Paladins were powered by their own inner light and code, and not loyalty to a God, she knew of no variations of a Paladin Oath that allowed for the ownership of slaves as a Good act. Even the Crown's Oath implicitly admitted that it's precepts had little or nothing to do with Good. And the Conqueror's Oath was better classified as a Blackguard Oath.

No, he was surely simulating that light with his natural arcane skills.

"I certainly hope not," she said, "Well, if it's the building you want, few would strongly contest your claim to it after we leave. Of course, I had still planned to wall off some of these tunnels..."

[Whitebrand]

"Show me what you have so far," Brand said, looking at the papers on the table. "Right now we're partners, Miz Russert. Aren't we? Of course I make no claim on your assets as a result of your business. I'm nearly as interested as helping the innocents under your roof as you are."