Darth Abyss
Eldritch
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RvaHnv3EQJ4
Katarr, The Blackout
Katarr's moon had little to offer but the dim remnants if light spend by a nearly faded sun. In return the stars that framed in the sky had an exceptionally bright and vibrant quality to them, illuminating the darkness of the dead world below in an almost ghostly fashion. While this was true for the endless wastelands, and the toxic seas that departed the few signs of a new society within the remains of that before, these signs, these cities broke through the darkness.
The Blackout had once been used to drill long forgotten substance from below the surface of the sea, long before the former inhabitants of the world even made their way to the starts. When Darth Nihilus emerged upon the world to devour any sense of life upon it, the drilling rig had already been a relic of long gone by age. Despite that, despite even the end of the world, it still stood within the black sea, defiant to the passing of time and the violent nature of the tides.
Here the Free People had build another home for themselves, far away from any galactic government that meant to tell them what to do. It was a place with no rules, and even among the other Free Cities it stood out as a place of true unhinged debauchery. 49 levels connected by makeshift elevators placed where the drill once had been, almost all of them rebuild into some sort of shady club, bar or casino. It was no surprise that it had become a prominent place for criminals and lowlifes to spend their free time.
It was also no surprise that Darth Abyss, within the underworld and the Free Cities generally know simply as the Prophet, had chosen the Blackout for today's gathering. "The Underworld Ball" it had once more been jokingly dubbed, even if the event had little to nothing in common with a ball. The only real similarity was that its guests were meant to be powerful and wealthy, but from there it was an gathering of an entirely different nature. Abyss had heard rumors about a new faction, a cabal of various influential criminal groups, had formed, and he deemed the ball his best opportunity to confirm them.
The establishment on the uppermost level, the Catalyst, was closed of entirely, entrance allowed exclusively for the leaders of the underworld and their inner circles. Parts of the dancefloor had been closed of to make room for additional tables meant for talking, drinking and most importantly gambling.
The only ones allowed besides the underworld elite were the actual workers of the club, including dealers, waitresses, strippers and loved ones for hire. Here the Prophet himself was seated, the metal husk resting at a table with a handful of his most loyal and skilled, his pipe in shape of a dragon's head locked between his sharp teeth. The seat besides him was reserved for his right hand man [member="Causstik Rahn"], should he find the time to join the ball. A few other seats remained open, in case any of his guest decided to speak to him.
The level below, a grimy club know as the Wildcard, was open for all that desired to come, no matter if dealer, smuggler or bounty hunter. Other than in the place above the music had been turned up to it maximum, loud enough to temporarily lose all hearing. Another difference to place above was the amount of guest that had already made their way there, the club already overflowing with people compared to the handful that had found their was to the Catalyst.
While above would be part business, part fun, the Wildcard was part fun and part of a horrible future hangover. It was easy to guess why so many had come, as drinks were free for the first hour of the ball.
Katarr, The Blackout
Katarr's moon had little to offer but the dim remnants if light spend by a nearly faded sun. In return the stars that framed in the sky had an exceptionally bright and vibrant quality to them, illuminating the darkness of the dead world below in an almost ghostly fashion. While this was true for the endless wastelands, and the toxic seas that departed the few signs of a new society within the remains of that before, these signs, these cities broke through the darkness.
The Blackout had once been used to drill long forgotten substance from below the surface of the sea, long before the former inhabitants of the world even made their way to the starts. When Darth Nihilus emerged upon the world to devour any sense of life upon it, the drilling rig had already been a relic of long gone by age. Despite that, despite even the end of the world, it still stood within the black sea, defiant to the passing of time and the violent nature of the tides.
Here the Free People had build another home for themselves, far away from any galactic government that meant to tell them what to do. It was a place with no rules, and even among the other Free Cities it stood out as a place of true unhinged debauchery. 49 levels connected by makeshift elevators placed where the drill once had been, almost all of them rebuild into some sort of shady club, bar or casino. It was no surprise that it had become a prominent place for criminals and lowlifes to spend their free time.
It was also no surprise that Darth Abyss, within the underworld and the Free Cities generally know simply as the Prophet, had chosen the Blackout for today's gathering. "The Underworld Ball" it had once more been jokingly dubbed, even if the event had little to nothing in common with a ball. The only real similarity was that its guests were meant to be powerful and wealthy, but from there it was an gathering of an entirely different nature. Abyss had heard rumors about a new faction, a cabal of various influential criminal groups, had formed, and he deemed the ball his best opportunity to confirm them.
The establishment on the uppermost level, the Catalyst, was closed of entirely, entrance allowed exclusively for the leaders of the underworld and their inner circles. Parts of the dancefloor had been closed of to make room for additional tables meant for talking, drinking and most importantly gambling.
The only ones allowed besides the underworld elite were the actual workers of the club, including dealers, waitresses, strippers and loved ones for hire. Here the Prophet himself was seated, the metal husk resting at a table with a handful of his most loyal and skilled, his pipe in shape of a dragon's head locked between his sharp teeth. The seat besides him was reserved for his right hand man [member="Causstik Rahn"], should he find the time to join the ball. A few other seats remained open, in case any of his guest decided to speak to him.
The level below, a grimy club know as the Wildcard, was open for all that desired to come, no matter if dealer, smuggler or bounty hunter. Other than in the place above the music had been turned up to it maximum, loud enough to temporarily lose all hearing. Another difference to place above was the amount of guest that had already made their way there, the club already overflowing with people compared to the handful that had found their was to the Catalyst.
While above would be part business, part fun, the Wildcard was part fun and part of a horrible future hangover. It was easy to guess why so many had come, as drinks were free for the first hour of the ball.
