It all went quiet. Very quiet. After the concussive chaoswave swept through Plank Town, there wasn't much in the way of opposition left.
Everyone was gone.
No frost giant, know men-at-arms, no gender-reassigned women-at-arms either. They were, to a man (or woman), gone.
This was generally greeted with enthusiasm.
The members of DCM enterprises immediately set out to explore the vacated premises. Xoe found herself in a block of what seemed to pass for luxury apartments. As she opened door after door and poked her head inside, she began to realize just what sort of luxury was on offer here...
The kind of luxury that came with a feather boa, a length of silken rope and a pair of assless chaps. There was enough potpourri on boil here to make a skunk blush. There were more small, rubber items here than in that closet Xeno most hilariously fell into in the Temple of Time. And of course, there were records. Financial records. Details. Names. Credit parchment numbers.
Xoe scooped up the most damning (and profitable) documents, put her mark on the door of the most well-fitted corner apartment and headed outside. She didn't like leaving her brother alone too long in deserted towns. It almost never came to any good.