Spoiler: Wayne Castle - Dungeons
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The medusa sighed as if annoyed. "Pfff. You'll have no trouble tracking down Mirv...just look for the nearest coward-shaped rock and you'll be right on top of her." she hissed. "She's always been a low-talent criminal. If it wasn't for the magic and the giant muscles Gotham would have eaten her alive ages ago. Or Hypo would have. Either way, she didn't have a specific hideout to run to, she was just running because Hypothalo and I are stronger than she is, and she didn't want to get her arse kicked."

"Okay, fair enough," said Damien. "Then why the retreat from South Channel Island? I thought you all had a good thing going there. No Justicars, lots of victims...casino fit in with the elven nightlife...."

"Yea, it was perfect." she replied. "Almost, anyway. South Channel Island was getting too hot. Some adventurers came in this past week and worked the place over. That was the first problem -- Fey in the woods all started getting...itchy. Never a good sign. The elves started to raise their guard too, that made it harder to find marks."

"So it was a business decision."

"Hells no. It was a survival decision. The biggest issue wasn't the spooks in the woods or the elves. The problem was the Cult."

"What's this cult?"

The medusa sighed loudly again, as if she was explaining something obvious.

"The CULT. The clowns, the jesters, the bards' rejects. The SCI cult. I don't know how you could possibly not know about this, everyone on the island knew. A bunch of lunatics dressed as carnies had been camping out in the old Carnival Grounds. It's been a graveyard ever since the Bards forced it shut after Thomas Wayne died."

"Yea, I heard about that. Then some lunatic calling himself the Jester started committing horrific crimes against the Bards until the Dark Knight showed up and locked him in Arkham."

At this, the medusa became extremely calm, and her head snakes seemed to regard him coolly, cautiously.

"Yes. That's what happened. That's the story." she said, a bit quieter. Her voice had become measured, deliberate, almost monotone. "But now, some new carnies have moved in. And they worship the fey gods, and they're recruiting lots and lots of Gotham's most desperate citizens to join them, m'kay? And they're a bit more trouble than they're worth so we figured if they were gonna stay on the island, we would leave. There, I answered your questions...happy now?"