Faction [TSC] WELCOME TO 1313 | OPEN

[Arris Windrun]

Lorn Reingard Acier Moonbound Varin Mortifer Vestra Tane Gillem Lysander von Ascania Anet Raine Adelle Bastiel Reina Daival Quinn Varanin Mercy Tamsin Starfall Ellissanthia Skael the Patient Darth Miasma Qyssiyana Nunterc Trundiav Nej Tane Snees D'ner Aymeric Prendergast Nilira Vornix Romi Jade Elian Abrantes Bushido Brown Kitter Bitters Groushh Tatiana Sah Ives | OPEN TO ALL

Under the shadow of a durasteel sky and bathed only in the glow of neon lights is the infamous heart of Coruscant's underworld. Here, it doesn't matter who rules the city above. Home to vice dens, back alley bazaars, dark secrets, and syndicate turfs, Level 1313 is as dangerous as it is exciting. Experience grunge entertainment, live music, and strong substances at Club Cadaver, the party that never ends. Browse illicit and unknown wares found throughout the bazaars of Butcher's Row. Or get lost in The Guts, Coruscant's most claustrophobic neighborhood, carved through cramp, dark alleys with doors and paths that might lead somewhere interesting, or... nowhere good at all.

Just remember the golden rule: What happens in 1313 stays in 1313.

LOCALE ONE

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CLUB CADAVER is the party that never ends. This multistory club comes with everything you could ever want: Bars, VIP booths, dance floors, live music, and dubious substances. If you’ve come to 1313 to meet new people and make regretful choices, look no further than CLUB CADAVER.

LOCALE TWO

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No criminal underworld is without its unregulated markets. From outlaw tech to artifacts of suspicious provenance, street food vendors and counterfeit goods, there’s no better place to shop than BUTCHER’S ROW. Just be sure to watch your pockets and don’t haggle without a backup plan, or you'll find out why they call it that.

Note: PC vendors - you are MORE than welcome to sell YOUR goods here!

LOCALE THREE

Where am I? How did I get here? Is that MY blood? If you’re asking questions like that, chances are you’ve ended up in THE GUTS - 1313’s most claustrophobic community; found in a maze of looping, narrow alleys and liminal spaces with seemingly no end. But it’s not without its charms. THE GUTS has dinky bars, sketchy gambling dens, and other local flavors. Just... expect them to be an acquired taste.

JOIN US ON DISCORD

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[Anet Raine]

Tags: Adelle Bastiel | Reina Daival | Quinn Varanin | OPEN
Wearing: This Fit | Choker

"Imperials can't party."

"What?"

Two men, a Snivven and a Kiffar, were having the most important philosophical discussion of the century.

"You heard me. Imperials CAN'T party. Sith can."

The Snivven blinked. "Are you tryina say the Empire lost because Imperials don't party?"

"No," the Kiffar corrected. "Imperials CAN'T party. The Galactic Empire, the Dark Empire, the Confederation. How many of 'em partied?"

The Snivven actually considered that one, and arrived at... "Eh... Surely they must have--"

"No!" The other shook his head. "They've got the sleek uniforms, the iconic ships, all that fancy rank and file but--"

"They can't party..." finished the Snivven in his grim epiphany. He looked the Kiffar in his eyes, almost afraid to ask. "The Empire lost because they can't party?"

The Kiffar nodded sagely. "Yep."

Anet Raine, Sith Acolyte, arrived at Club Cadaver. To party. She found a nice booth, not too far from the dance floor, and within beeline of one of the bars. The half-pantoran slunk past the two 'philosophers' standing in her way and slid along the upholstered couch. When they paused to look at her, she gave them a stare that said 'go away,' and they did.

 

[Nunterc Trundiav]

T H E - B O S S B A N - O F - P O R T - N O W H E R E

The journey down to Level 1313 was a risk for an Underworlder like Nunterc, especially now that the Sith Covenant had overthrown the Galactic Empire in just one campaign. The situation was dire enough that the central government crumbled a day later on Balmorra, signaling the demise of the second Great Imperial Power that had held sway over the core.

With Black Sun also struggling under the burden of overexpansion, the Guildmaster was not enjoying a particularly pleasant evening as the armored lift screeched to a stop. The heavy blast doors hissed open, exposing him to the sensory overload of Club Cadaver. The party that never ends truly lived up to its name, presenting a maze of neon platforms and dancers filling every available space, mingling with the pungent smell of death sticks.

The Bothan stepped out, boots clicking softly against the surface of the floor. He looked like a man who belonged in a spice den yet he navigated the chaos of the establishment with clear purpose.

Flanking him were four Mythosaur Supercommandos, their T-shaped visors glinting in the flashing lights of the dance floor. He felt no urge to venture out unprotected, as they pushed aside the crowd of eager spacers and shady informants, clearing a path for him to reach a secluded booth on the second level.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

CLUB CADAVER​

He sat at the bar as conversation buzzed around him. The glass in his hand held the brown amber liquid that burned as it traveled down his throat. He sipped on it, the ice within the glass shifting and he placed it back on the table.

“Another.”

The bartender, who was cleaning a stein looked towards him brow arched.

“Sir, that was your fourth drink, are you sure you-”

Varin looked him over then his gaze found his face.

“Another.”

The bartender shrugged and began pouring into his glass.

“Suit yourself. This is some strong stuff though, might need to sit for a while.”

Varin picked up the glass and sipped it over as he spoke, placing some credits down on the bar. Music thumped and thudded in his ear making it hard to hear himself think, but he was not here to think, he was here to enjoy himself and to have a few drinks. Well, a few more drinks.

“Do you have something stronger?”

The bartenders eyes widened at his request.

“Son, you shouldn’t even be conscious after what all you had already drank!”

A sigh left his throat as he picked up a much older bottle of clear liquid.

“From the Hutt’s older stash.”

He poured him another drink as Varin finished the one he had previously had.

“What do slugs know of brewing?”

Varin looked at the glass as the crystal clear liquid poured smoothly into the glass. He picked it up and smelt it, the smell alone brought a sense of burn to his nostrils causing them to flare. He looked at the bartender.

“Might wanna take that slow big guy.”

Varin sat back in the chair glass in hand and tipped it back, gulping the liquid down in one go. The bartender gritted his teeth as he watched.

“Oh you’re gonna feel that soon kid.”

Tags: OPEN​

 

[Arris Windrun]

Tag: Eira Dyn | OPEN
Wearing: Leather jacket | Spacer's slacks and black boots

Cybernetic eyes opened, adjusting to the low light. Her body shifted under a pile of junk and trash.

"Huh?" Arris looked around. "Why am I..."

Then, the sound of clattering from above. Junk metal and garbage fell, and she was lying right in the dumping spot. Her eyes opened wider.

"Oh, shi--"

Arris scrambled. It was difficult to move, but she managed to just barely roll out of the way and tumbled down the mountain of trash until she fell into a cramped alleyway. As the cyborg stood, she noticed her balance was incredibly off. She looked down and saw cybernetic legs, which were expected. Rusted outer casing. Archaic mechanism, a thousand-year-old design. Cheap as hell. That was not expected.

Ah. "These aren't my legs!" She gestured at her feet.

Those weren't her hands or arms either. Someone, somehow, had replaced Arris Windrun's cybernetics, and she couldn't even remember who or why, let alone how. To make matters worse, she patted empty holsters at her side. Arms and legs were an easy replacement. Priceless, two-of-a-kind slugthrowers were not.

"Who the hell has my guns?!" Arris screamed at the top of her artificial lungs.
CC: Lysander von Ascania | Riffraff Ranat

In all her confusion, Arris hadn't even noticed, until now, that there was something off about her vision. The whole world was tinted green, and there was a HUD and information stream burned into her vision as if a viewscreen.

"My eyes too?!" She thought to herself.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
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Tonight, Lysander took on the appearance of a tailored shadow. A black button up shirt, sleeves rolled to the forearms, revealing scars that had been born when polite conversation was off the table; trousers of the same hue cut to a line.


The only thing out of place in his appearance was the slugthrower riding at his hip. He might've been borrowing it from Arris Windrun . 'Borrowed' being a flexible term..

She'd notice eventually.

Sounds arrived from every direction. There was the metallic laugh of a vendor's hawk, the hiss of a deal struck in a language he did not quite understand. Perhaps it was Sith arrogance, but they were all threads he could pull if he wanted; for now, he chose not to. For now.. he just wanted to listen.

The alley was washed in neon glow, and steam curled from frying pans. The smell was layered too.. fried protein and spice. Somewhere along the way, he might've even caught the metallic tang of blood. The place was probably crawling with counterfeit credits. He'd been here years ago, same exact spot, as a padawan. Now, the Sith Knight never imagined returning with a pack of marauders to claim the Core. The thought would have been laughable to that boy back then.

A few months ago, he traveled half the galaxy with Naniti; maybe he'd been spoiled? Since the siege of Coruscant there has been little time for such indulgences. Back then, they were always looking for reasons to ditch Desevro. Now the reasons were rarer.

He reached for his datapad, brushing the cover before flipping it open. The glow of the blue screen spilled over his face with light that coaxed an honest smile. At no point did the doctrine say he couldn't find contentment. If that ever meant savoring life's little moments strategically, then that's just how he'd have to embrace them.

Fingers drifted and began their choreography, letting a thought take form.

Hi noodlehead. I just arrived. Where are you?

 

[Tatiana Sah]

The visit to Coruscant was not one to be taken lightly.

Or so she had been told. Tatiana was, however, curious of the realm occupied by the ideological opposites to the Jedi. Everything she had seen and heard spoke of the biases that people were capable of -- willfully or otherwise. Empirical data was necessary to truly informed conclusion regarding the nature of the Force, its place in the galaxy, and the very character of other factions occupying that galaxy. In short, it was her personal mission to come.

Which is how she came to stand next to a bar and watch a man drink liquor like it was water. He looked Human. In a way. Though, Tatiana couldn't help but notice his stature even sitting down. Halfway through seven foot was her estimation. Physically imposing by Human standard. That was before taking into account other characteristics, which only accentuated the air of danger about him.

Now, Tatiana knew it was rude to stare, but circumstances should excuse the act. "Is that brew particularly strong?" She had tried a few drinks elsewhere. Sampled several flavors and ended up in a few drunken conversations here or there. The Jedi Order would never approve, but Tatiana had conducted herself appropriately so what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

She was fairly certain that proverb was correctly applied.

"You have a remarkable fortitude. An... iron stomach?" There was a different metaphor to use in a situation like this, Tatiana was certain. She'd heard it once, but even as she tried to hear them the ambient noise had muddled it.

As for Tatiana, she was a foot and a half shorter with blond hair. A brown, spacer-leather jacket hung open at the front to reveal a leather corset snug over the lower portion of her chest with white cotton providing comfort and a bit more cover near the collar bone. Her blue eyes sparkled with an effortless, small smile on her lips.

"May I?" Tatiana asked of Varin Mortifer .

OPEN​