Public Near the Blackwall || A Port Nowhere Story

[Asaz Asil-i]

B L A C K - S U N - S Y N D I C A T E
N E A R -T H E -B L A C K W A L L

Port Nowhere, a vast Modified Azalus-class Hutt dreadnaught, materialized from hyperspace close to the borders of the Sith Order, right at the edge of the Blackwall that shielded the vulnerable worlds within.

Its mere existence was a challenge to order, creating a chaotic scene of illegal trade and desperate individuals who had come to this one corner of the galaxy where death was a frequent visitor and the grip of Sith Lords tightened mercilessly around the necks of its inhabitants.

Inside the twisted maze of this floating monstrosity, life was worthless and chances were rare. Every passageway, every converted hangar, every dark corner promised either a swift fortune or a violent demise.

Beings from every known species, along with a few that were hard to categorize, pushed through the narrow, filthy streets. Hutts glided through lively market squares, their entourages shoving aside smaller creatures.

Black Sun enforcers, clad in intimidating armor, patrolled their territories with an air of menace. Pyke Syndicate operatives moved silently, their masks concealing their true motives. The atmosphere itself seemed to hum with a dangerous energy, a blend of ambition, desperation, and the constant threat of violence.

Somewhere deep within the chaotic jumble of salvaged vessels, a high-stakes sabacc game was in progress, its result capable of altering the control of an entire sector's spice trade.

In another area, the roar of a fighting pit announced a savage battle between enslaved creatures. And in the countless shadows, whispers passed along information, bounties, and the coordinates for the next big opportunity.

Objective 1: The Sovereign's Summons​

Secure an audience with Dame Asaz Asil-i the undisputed (though unofficial) ruler of Port Nowhere's central sector, located within the heavily fortified and opulent "Overlord's Bridge". You can navigate the treacherous politics and heavy security layers of the upper decks to reach her, presenting a case for alliance, resources or information about the happenings of the Black Sun Syndicate.

Objective 2: Descent into the Pit​

Seized by the forces of the Black Sun Syndicate during a covert operation or a failed transaction, you now find yourself locked away in the Viper Pit Arena. Your goal is to endure amidst a sea of vengeful thugs, battle-hardened mercenaries, and relentless bet collectors who will do anything to ensure your downfall, as their profits depend on it.

You have two clear choices: either battle your way through the brutal gladiatorial fights or create a chaotic distraction among the savage beasts and the bloodshed, all with the ultimate aim of escaping the dreadnought altogether.

Objective 3: BYOOO​

Whatever floats your fancy on Port Nowhere.

 

[Asaz Asil-i]

B L A C K - S U N - S Y N D I C A T E
N E A R - T H E - B L A C K W A L L

​

The foul odor of Port Nowhere, a toxic mix of stale spices, sweat, and cheap synth-ale, seldom reached the Overlord's Bridge. This was a small mercy she allowed herself as its self-proclaimed Ruler, with no one left to contest her...not aboard her own dreadnought.

Yet, even with the air purified, she could sense the station's relentless, chaotic pulse, a vibration that echoed her cold, unyielding ambition that had lifted her from the deepest lows. Her throne, salvaged from a long-forgotten Alliance cruiser and refurbished with shining, blood-red durasteel, was more than just a seat; it stood as a testament to her ruthless survival.

Today's indulgence: a hopeful gathering. Another group of ambitious fools, undoubtedly, eager to win her favor, to plead for resources, to share trivial gossip about the Black Sun Syndicate. As if she had any interest in the petty disputes of her subordinates. As if any information they held could be even remotely as valuable as the raw resources she commanded.

"They are waiting, Dame Asaz," her Rodian majordomo croaked, his voice barely audible, a stark contrast to the noise of the station below.

Asaz simply waved a clawed hand, the gesture curt and dismissive. "Let them come." Her gaze, cold and calculating, swept across the ornate yet heavily fortified chamber. Every piece of art, every item of salvaged luxury, was a trophy.

A reminder of her struggles, of what she had claimed. Softness was a weakness she had long since eradicated, in the desperate times when chains had been her only adornment.

She sank deeper into her throne, her posture regal and unyielding. Alliance? Resources? Information? All were commodities. All had their price. And she, Asaz Asil-i, the undisputed, unofficial Queen of this wretched yet glorious cesspool, set the terms.

These supplicants would soon realize that her audience was not a privilege, but a trial. And failure, on Port Nowhere, was seldom survivable. The door hissed open, letting in the faint scent of fear that finally infiltrated her purified air. She almost smiled.