[SIZE=14.6667px]The Dealer’s Den, 841 ABY[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]The dance floor of the ancient Dealer’s Den cantina was huge, a reflection of a time when dozens upon dozens of beings had crowded together for leisure within its walls. That was fortunate, because several hundred beings were now crowded together inside, desperate for the safety of the slumlord who reigned there. Looking out over the motley collection of beings, Shayde smiled, his mandibles spreading hungrily. Finally he had what he had always sought: power, influence, recognition. But it was only the beginning of his plans, this little sanctuary he was able to provide.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Behind him were the back rooms, his private fortress. He had spared no expense in preparing their defenses; already there were plenty of beings who would gladly see him dead. The entire cantina had been rigged with cameras and auto-blasters, all easily powered by the immense yield of Themodraft. All of the preparations he had spent years setting in place were now producing results. Further defenses came with the improvised armor plating his small army of scavengers had dragged back from various wrecked speeders and collapsed buildings. Inelegant but effective.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]It served most of all to keep the Cthons out. They was the reason that so many had pitched pitiful tents on the dance floor, sleeping on hard durasteel and laboring day after day to give Shayde something to prove that they were worth protecting. The hordes of grey cannibals just outside the walls had ruled these lost underlevels for as long as anyone could remember, too many for any of the slumlords to permanently clear out. One day, when his next set of plans came to fruition, Shayde would be the first to reclaim a great swath of the Below from them. One day, but not yet.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]The dance floor of the ancient Dealer’s Den cantina was huge, a reflection of a time when dozens upon dozens of beings had crowded together for leisure within its walls. That was fortunate, because several hundred beings were now crowded together inside, desperate for the safety of the slumlord who reigned there. Looking out over the motley collection of beings, Shayde smiled, his mandibles spreading hungrily. Finally he had what he had always sought: power, influence, recognition. But it was only the beginning of his plans, this little sanctuary he was able to provide.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Behind him were the back rooms, his private fortress. He had spared no expense in preparing their defenses; already there were plenty of beings who would gladly see him dead. The entire cantina had been rigged with cameras and auto-blasters, all easily powered by the immense yield of Themodraft. All of the preparations he had spent years setting in place were now producing results. Further defenses came with the improvised armor plating his small army of scavengers had dragged back from various wrecked speeders and collapsed buildings. Inelegant but effective.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]It served most of all to keep the Cthons out. They was the reason that so many had pitched pitiful tents on the dance floor, sleeping on hard durasteel and laboring day after day to give Shayde something to prove that they were worth protecting. The hordes of grey cannibals just outside the walls had ruled these lost underlevels for as long as anyone could remember, too many for any of the slumlords to permanently clear out. One day, when his next set of plans came to fruition, Shayde would be the first to reclaim a great swath of the Below from them. One day, but not yet.[/SIZE]