30 painted ladies of the oldest profession. Reader discretion is advised.
‘Remember Lais and do your job well, perhaps one day you’ll be a Princess in a foreign land.’
The Promise of many a brothel keeper.
Quietly situated between chic salons of the nobility and the grand halls of the great guilds is the Tabernacle of Discrete Amusements.
A weapon of war created by an extinct race, this rat appears normal but is a simulacrum - beneath it’s mangy fur is a body of bronze. Commanded by words in a lost language, wherever it goes a virulent and lethal plague follows. The cure is similarly obscure.