There's something about the smell of the rain in the city, especially in March. Not that mist-drizzle drek that happens most of what passes for winter around here, or did before the planet started heating up, but an actual rain. It's almost as if Mother Nature herself is trying to wash the streets....
Poor girl doesn't stand a chance, though. Not here in the Barrens, anyway. There's too much filth, blood, pain, wasted lives, stolen youth, crushed dreams in Redmond for simple water to wash away, even if it does tend toward the acidic.
You shake yourself out of your reverie, pleased that at least it's the rain you're smelling and not the metahuman waste you were expecting as you look around, trying to find your destination... and see only a gang of elves and orks firing shots off at a pair of Bandits, the little striped rodents doing their best to get behind something metallic in the junkpile they can use for cover. Lucky for the little trash-monsters that someone - probably these gangers, or, really, one of their predecessors decades ago -- shot out the street lights... and that none of 'em are dwarves or trolls, or have cybereyes. You see a flash of striped white and black tail as the animals get behind cover, and catch wisps of laughter from the gangers as they start looking for something else to amuse themselves.
You step forward, toward the run-down tenement that matches the address you were given, shaking your head at the absoultely ancient technology at the door. The lock itself is new, and looks surprisingly good, considering, but the panel of buzzers is like something out of an old movie - a 2D movie that they didn't even bother remaking in trid. You start to look across the panel, trying to find the name you were given, Bueller.... Bueller... why are these things so faded -- ah, there it is.. You tentatively press the button, and it seems to resist a moment until you pass some threshold and it unsticks and sinks quickly, making the most sickly buzz you've ever heard - as if someone mated a murder hornet with a drowning kitten. Nothing happens at first, then a harsh voice, a rough tenor you think, though hard to tell through the static of century-old wires, says, "Yah?"
You take a breath, and try not to feel stupid as you say the passphrase you committed to memory, "Special Delivery for Doctor Venkman." You release the button and wait, starting to think it was some sort of joke, or that maybe you got it wrong when you hear, "Basement. 3A.", and then a strange whine-buzz which you realize is coming from the door. Tentatively, you pull, and enter, the smell of rain replaced by stale sweat, burned nutrisoy, and just a hint of urine. You head downstairs, wondering why you're even here - how a cryptic message and a reminder of what most people consider an Urban Myth -- the Guardian brought you here, even if you know first-hand that the myth is real.
You knock on the door, and it opens, revealing a squalid, ugly, tiny room - calling it a bachelor would be generous, as it is almost more reminiscent of a coffin hotel... ...though your perception of the room might be a little off given the mountain of mocha skin and muscle filling the room and crouched over to look at you in the doorway. "You sure you're in the right place, chummer?", the troll asks, her smooth, high alto surprisingly soft, though there's little need to sound threatening when you're a good 220-kilos of muscle and bone plating dressed in form-fitting blue leather that accentuates all of her curves. Despite your confusion, and a sense that maybe you aren't, you nod with more confidence than you're feeling, and the troll smiles, revealing perfect teeth behind her tusks. She stands and steps back, pushing against the right hand wall, and her hand goes through it as if it weren't real. From behind the wall, you hear a click as if a large door were being opened, and suddenly start to hear music -- feeling the bass thrumming in your chest more than anything else. The troll smiles, her eyes sparkling with amusement and mischief, "I always love first-timers," she laughs, then whispers throatily, "Don't worry.... I'll be gentle..." before her voice returns to its normal tone, and she says in a matter-of-fact-tone, "...unless you're dumb enough to start something."
She points at the illusory wall with a violet wooden stick, and says, "Welcome to Club Infernal. I'm Starlight, the weapons check girl. I'd recommend not trying to sneak anything in, I just bought this outfit, and it'd be a shame to get your blood all over it. Synthleather armour never fits quite right after a deep cleaning."
Once through the outer door, the slim young man in the very large dark coat breathes deeply with relief, then considers the small but expanding pool of water forming at his feet with more than a little dismay. I should have applied more tetraflour spray. I didn't realize the wool would be this absorbent. He brushes faintly at a splash of what he hopes is mud on the knee-high hem of the coat.
Then he considers the stairway for a few moments before patting his ribs with his right hand and descending.
"Welcome to Club Infernal. I'm Starlight, the weapons check girl. I'd recommend not trying to sneak anything in, I just bought this outfit, and it'd be a shame to get your blood all over it. Synthleather armour never fits quite right after a deep cleaning."
Sincere smile with a calculated tilt of the head, "And I am Jay Gould, Miss Starlight. Very pleased to make your acquaintance. Would you have a hangar for my coat also?"
This said while he draws a shotgun from under the sodden coat, and slides what appears to be a bladeless knife hilt from his trousers pocket.
"If I told you I was holding something back, how pleasant would the search be?"
Starlight chuckles at the joke, then says, "Good call."
She takes the offered weapons and starts to lead you down the hall, stopping at a side door that opens into ... a locker room? The lockers themselves are painted red and black, and what was once white tile has yellowed.. with age, you hope. "Red ones are a standard pick your passcode, up to 6 digits. For those worried about electronics being hacked, the black are old-school mechanical - you'll get a key on a bob. Of course, if someone swipes your key or you drop it, well, that's your problem."
She pauses a moment and adds, "You might not know the rules, so I'll just add there's no outside food, drink or drugs. Seraphine is pretty particular about making sure that we know what our clients are taking - so if you've got anything like that, it goes into the locker."
She pauses, then adds, "And any hold-out weapon you might think you can sneak past the sensors in the Gate, too. At least once a week learns the hard way that their special ceramic blade isn't magical and we need to set an example. You don't want that to be you."
She points to the far end of the room where there are windows, "If you go to the end, there, you can look down on Abbadon, or what most of us just call the Pit, and if you really crane your neck, you can see over into Purgatory."
Starlight's smile lights up a tad, "Well, if you're looking for a strip-search, we could probably have a chat about that on your way out. I'm off just before sunrise. Though, if it's just a bit of the rough stuff you're looking for, then I'm quite sure that one of the succubi - or incubi - could help you."
She takes the offered weapons, and the coat, then starts to lead you down the hall, stopping at a side door that opens into ... a locker room? The lockers themselves are painted red and black, and what was once white tile has yellowed.. with age, you hope. "Red ones are a standard pick your passcode, up to 6 digits. For those worried about electronics being hacked, the black are old-school mechanical - you'll get a key on a bob. Of course, if someone swipes your key or you drop it, well, that's your problem."
She pauses a moment and adds, "You might not know the rules, so I'll just add there's no outside food, drink or drugs. Seraphine is pretty particular about making sure that we know what our clients are taking - so if you've got anything like that, it goes into the locker."
She pauses, then adds, "And any hold-out weapon you might think you can sneak past the sensors in the Gate, too. At least once a week learns the hard way that their special ceramic blade isn't magical and we need to set an example. You don't want that to be you."
She points to the far end of the room where there are windows, "If you go to the end, there, you can look down on Abbadon, or what most of us just call the Pit, and if you really crane your neck, you can see over into Purgatory."
The troll shrugs, "Club Infernal is layered, just like Dante said it should be. The top level is Purgatory, there are tables and bars that let you look down. Some people even try to have conversations at those tables, though without cyberears and filters, I don't know how. The second layer is Stygia, the main dance floor, which connects via the tunnel to Abbadon, here. Below that is Ereberus, but it's private rooms, usually for some time with a succubus or incubus, but people do rent out the rooms for other kinds of meets."
She looks at you, as if deciding something, then shrugs before adding, "There's another layer below that, but it's by special invitation only."
She says, "The Pit is where people who want to grind and touch generally go... the normal rule about don't touch without asking first doesn't really apply there--" Her voice hardens and her expression darkens as she adds, "--though the rule about not touching after someone says no certainly does."
You head over to the window and look down, and see a mass of people pressed against each other in a pit, surrounded by a tile that glowing pink and green under blacklight paint. Just as you're about to dismiss it, your brain connects the image with where you are, and you realize that you're looking down at a group of people partying in what started life as an indoor swimming pool...
Starlight says, "Anyhow, the Gates of Hell are back this way in the main hall. Abandon every hope all ye who enter here, and all that."
Starlight's smile lights up a tad, "Well, if you're looking for a strip-search, we could probably have a chat about that on your way out. I'm off just before sunrise. Though, if it's just a bit of the rough stuff you're looking for, then I'm quite sure that one of the succubi - or incubi - could help you."She takes the offered weapons, and the coat,...
Jay smiles, brushes a bit of inconsequential lint from the dark blue sleeve of his archaic, slim jacket. "I am not at all sure I'll be at liberty at sunrise. Tonight is a business meeting. But perhaps another time?"
... then starts to lead you down the hall, stopping at a ... a locker room? ...She pauses a moment and adds, "You might not know the rules, so I'll just add there's no outside food, drink or drugs. Seraphine is pretty particular about making sure that we know what our clients are taking - so if you've got anything like that, it goes into the locker."
She pauses, then adds, "And any hold-out weapon you might think you can sneak past the sensors in the Gate, too. At least once a week learns the hard way that their special ceramic blade isn't magical and we need to set an example. You don't want that to be you."
Jay doubted a mechanical lock would really be any more secure, unless he brought his own, which he hadn't. "The red will be quite adequate, schone, Fraulein Starlight. "
He unbuttons his jacket and withdraws a palm-sized envelope from his left vest pocket. Then his smile widens and he withdraws a double-barreled derringer from the right. The pistol, he lays on the bottom of the locker. The envelope he squeezes slightly lengthwise so that the long edges bow outward. Inside are 4 thin paper sticks. An adroit shake of his hand brings one to the edge of envelope. "I do appreciate your concern and help. Do you indulge?" He adds hastily, "Not for use here of course. That would be contrary to the rules of the establishment. But for yourself later. They're an heirloom variety, extraordinarily mild, quite mellow."
Whatever her answer, he smiles and places the envelope beside the pistol.
She points to the far end of the room where there are windows, "If you go to the end, there, you can look down on Abbadon, or what most of us just call the Pit, and if you really crane your neck, you can see over into Purgatory."
"Thank you again. I shall certainly take in the view before proceeding further."
A broad-shouldered man in a dark duster keeps his head down in the driving rain. His coat seems over-sized and a bit lumpy; he is clearly armed beneath the coat, and doing a poor job of concealing that fact. Being obviously armed has served him well in the past. The fighting gangers don't interest him much - just another day in the urban cesspool.
His sharp eyes take in facade of the building, keenly looking out for signs of an ambush. Seeing none, he proceeds in.
He responds to Starlight’s introduction my curtly offering his name, ”Raptor.” He complies with her request to check weapons promptly, peeling off his large jacket and offering his gun, bow, and arrows - and, finally, his beloved katana. ”I hope you’re ready to take good care of these,” he says. His gruff demeanor is softened a bit by a faint grin he gives to Starlight as he says this.
Starlight shakes her head, "Thanks for the offer, but no. Girl can't be too careful with what she puts in her body, and really, I couldn't afford the dose it would take to get past my toxin extractor, even if I wanted to."
She motions you forward toward the windows, and you take in the view -- it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the garish lights spinning and flashing, revealing a mass of people pressed against each other in a pit, surrounded by a tile that glowing pink and green under blacklight paint... There's something a little familiar about the scene though, that tugs at you for a second before you make the connection, the locker room and the thing below, realizing that you're looking down at a group of people griding in what started its life as an indoor swimming pool.
Starlight says, "Have to crane your neck a bit, but over to your left, roughly at the same level as we are, you can catch a glimpse of Purgatory's bar."
Starlight raises an eyebrow, "Gel rounds? Someone's being awful nice. Did we forget we're in the Barrens?" Her tone is gentle as she says it, a mix of genuine surprise, with just a hint of warning, too.
She takes your weapons and starts to lead you down the hall, stopping at a side door that opens into ... a locker room? The lockers themselves are painted red and black, and what was once white tile has yellowed.. with age, you hope. "Red ones are a standard pick your passcode, up to 6 digits. For those worried about electronics being hacked, the black are old-school mechanical - you'll get a key on a bob. Of course, if someone swipes your key or you drop it, well, that's your problem."
She pauses a moment and adds, "You might not know the rules, so I'll just add there's no outside food, drink or drugs. Seraphine is pretty particular about making sure that we know what our clients are taking - so if you've got anything like that, it goes into the locker."
She pauses, then adds, "Normally I'd warn you about any hold-out you might think about sneaking in, and the quality of the detectors in the Gate to Hell, but I'm assuming you're not that type."
She points to the far end of the room where there are windows, "If you go to the end, there, you can look down on Abbadon, or what most of us just call the Pit, and if you really crane your neck, you can see over into Purgatory."
Starlight whistles, "Can't say I've ever checked a bow before. You're loaded for bear... though a bear's probably the least dangerous thing in the Barrens these days." She takes the weapons gently, ensuring that they stay within your sight even over the coat, then says, "I'm just carrying them to the lockers. After that, what happens is out of my hands. Follow me."
She starts to lead you down the hallway and toward the source of the music, but stops at a side door, opening into a locker room, of all things - one that reminds you of the ones at the corp gyms - or would if not for the garish colours - every locker's painted red or black, and the once-white floor tile has clearly yellowed.. with age, you hope. She points to the lockers, "Red ones are a standard pick your passcode, up to 6 digits. If you're worried about electronics being hacked, then the black are old-school mechanical - you'll get a key on a bob. So nobody can use a passkey or fry the circuits, but they could steal the key... And if that happens, or you drop it, well, that's a you problem. Unless you've got a spare bow in the car."
She hands you back your gear to store and as you start, she offers, "You might not know the rules, so I'll just add there's no outside food, drink or drugs. Seraphine is pretty particular about making sure that we know what our clients are taking - so if you've got anything like that, it goes into the locker."
She pauses, then adds, "And any hold-out weapon you might think you can sneak past the sensors in the Gate should go in the locker too. At least once a week we've got to teach someone the hard way that their special ceramic blade or gun isn't invisible and we need to set an example. You don't want that to be you."
The edge to her voice vanishes, and she points to the far end of the room where there are windows, "If you go to the end, there, you can look down on Abbadon, or what most of us just call the Pit, and if you really crane your neck, you can see over into Purgatory."
Starlight shrugs, "Go ahead. You can watch the dancers in the Pit while you wait.". She starts to head out, then says over her shoulder, "I'm assuming I don't need to warn the 'good girl' about cameras because she wouldn't be playing in lockers that don't belong to her."
You look through the window and take in the view -- it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the garish lights spinning and flashing, revealing a mass of people pressed against each other in a pit, surrounded by tile that are glowing pink and green under blacklight.. There's something a little familiar about the scene though, that tugs at you for a second, bringing back memories of corp-school for the 20 minutes you attended before the 'special academy' - and then you make the connection: you're looking down at a group of people griding in what started its life as an indoor swimming pool. You see flashes of light and what looks like a wide tunnel, maybe a third as wide as the pool, on the left-hand wall... And above it you see a set of windows not unlike the ones you're using, behind which you can see part of a bar.
Starlight finishes her slightly-rehearsed spiel about lockers and the view, then adds, "There's also an elf waiting for her brother. That's not usually part of the experience, and she's not here for your enjoyment."
Hearing 0nyx’s voice, he turns quickly. ”Glad you made it in one piece. I wish you had listened and come here together. Some gangers were recreating the OK Corral not far from here. I would’ve hated for you to get caught in that b~~!+&&@.” He gives a brotherly smile. ”Come on. This isn’t the kind of place I usually stay longer than I have to. Let’s see what this is all about.”
Seeing Starlight still in the room, he clears his throat slightly and adds, ”Uh... no offense. It is a fine establishment.”
Starlight raises an eyebrow but says nothing as the two of you greet each other. Instead, she steps back into the shadows - not to hide from sight, but to allow you a bit of space.. at least until Raptor's comments, which makes her start to chuckle, "The kids? Aw, they're no danger. We pay them to 'provide atmosphere' for the richies who are here to get a 'real taste' of the Barrens. Also, you can pay them to watch your car, if you have one.... and as for the establishment, honestly, it's one of the finest of its kind... no harm in saying it's kind isn't for everyone. Honestly, I use my dampers to cut down the music at least half the time."
She shrugs, "Not to interrupt on family time though, but it'd be good if I could lead you to the Gates and go over the rules real quick, just so I'm there to answer the door for the next one. Buzzer's automated, as long as you know the passphrase."
Starlight takes you back into the hall, and you walk past another door before coming to a large double-door, surrounded by what appears to be an arch of tarnished silver, its patina and the dim light giving the angels, devils and demons that comprise it a sinister look. Carved into the door is Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate, though a soft, blue ghostly projection cycles through translations in dozens of languages - French, Greek, Latin, Russian, Sperethiel, Spanish... and finally English: Abandon every hope, ye who enter here...
The troll says, "This is where I stop, if only to not set off the weapon detectors in the gate. If you seek to enter, then simply knock at the gate."
She then holds up a finger, "Ah, right, the rules. The rules of the Club are simple, and breaking them gets you ejected, immediately. And, I should warn, speed and efficiency are more important than your safety during that process. Seraphine's lovely, but not at all patient with those who'd try to wreck her little sanctuary for lost souls."
She holds up a finger, "One: No magic. In fact, if you've got an active focus, shut it off now. There are spirits in there who will attack the moment they see something light up the Astral - and they're not really about restraint." She holds up another, "Two: No touching, unless invited. And, if anything, that's even more true of the staff than it is the other patrons... Don't think you can handle a succubi or incubi before you negotiate the price. Abaddon's an exception, there you can touch first, that's the whole point of a grind pit - but if someone says no or stop, it's no." She lowers her hand, "And that's it. Other than that, everything goes, as long as it's not hurting anyone else... or yourself permanently, so no BTL."
She looks at each of you, "Any questions?"
Starlight shakes her head, "Thanks for the offer, but no. Girl can't be too careful with what she puts in her body, and really, I couldn't afford the dose it would take to get past my toxin extractor, even if I wanted to."
"Safety first. Very prudent," Jay agrees. Another deft shake, and a flip of the thumb closes the envelope. Jay places it carefully beside the derringer.
Starlight says, "Have to crane your neck a bit, but over to your left, roughly at the same level as we are, you can catch a glimpse of Purgatory's bar."
"How very -- delightful. Maybe I will wait here for a few moments and take in the view. Please trouble yourself no further about me."
Jay may be wishing he had worn working clothes rather than business retro. He considers the odds of snagging his jacket or marring his shoes in the press below.
He looks intently at the crowd wondering who amongst them will explain his purpose here tonight.
Starlight pauses a moment while you look out the window, then chuckles, "You don't strike me as someone who needs to build up his nerve to go into the Club, and while the view's interesting, it's not usually all that compelling... If you'd like to wait here a bit, I can pick you up on the next pass, or I can lead you to the Club. I would normally just say 'Down the hall, toward the music, big gate, can't miss it', but you're a first-timer and I need to be sure you know the rules before going in.... if only for my own conscience if they have to bring you out in less than mint condition."
"If you think I don't need to steel myself, I am bluffing very well indeed. My business tonight is -- uncertain. However, please lead on, and tell me about any more rules."
Starlight laughs gently, then motions for Jay to follow back into the hall. As she pushes the door open, she starts to speak, "Ah, well, I can't speak to your business, but I can see why that could be more unnerving than the Shadowclub hosting your meeting. You'll probably be looking for a private room down on Ereberus - though if you're nervous, I imagine you're not the one paying for it."
She leads you down the hall, past one more door before reaching the large double-door at the end of the hall, maybe 10 meters from the locker room. The door itself is solid metal, with wrought iron inlays giving the impression of an old style gate. Upon the door is carved: Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate, though a soft, blue ghostly projection cycles through translations in dozens of languages - some you recognize and others you don't -- French, Greek, Latin, Russian, Sperethiel, Spanish... and finally English: Abandon every hope, ye who enter here.... Around the door is what appears to be an arch of tarnished silver, its patina and the dim light giving the angels, devils and demons that comprise it a sinister look.
Starlight waves her hand, "Here you are. Rules of the Club are simple - and breaking them gets you ejected with all haste a little care to your safety in the process. Seraphine offers a sanctuary for the lost souls, and will not tolerate that being disrupted."
She holds up a finger, "Rule One: No magic. Too hard to police good versus bad, so just none. There's spirits in there that attack anything they see active on the Astral Plane, especially wizards casting spells on other patrons."
She holds up a second finger, "Rule Two: No touching, unless invited. And, that's especially true of the staff... Don't think you can manhandle a succubi or incubi before you negotiate the price. Onviously, Abaddon's an exception, there you can touch first, that's the whole point of a grind pit - but if someone says no or stop, it's no. Stop. Immediately."
She then lowers her hand and shrugs, "That's all. Other than that, everything goes, as long as it's not hurting anyone else... or yourself permanently, so no BTL."
She waves her hand toward the door and says, "So, if you seek to enter, simply knock at the gate. I can't go in with you, as I don't want to set off the weapon detectors I warned you about.... But, before I go to let in the next lost soul -- any questions?"
The troll blinks at the name, then laughs, a trite denial on her lips, but then quickly sobers looking at you, and says in a soft voice, "Are you in trouble? Do you need help? I can probably get her a message.".
She looks slightly distracted for a moment, her eyes moving as if reading something that isn't there, then, sighs, "Wait... Apparently someone forgot to update the list. Raptor, Onyx, welcome, your meeting is in the Brimstone room in Ereberus. Two levels down. I don't think she's in the room yet, but there's a shortbar, feel free to have a drink while you wait. You're not the only ones on the list, so don't panic if someone other than Guardian arrives."
The troll reaches forward and knocks on the gate, smiles, "Good luck."
The double doors swing open, inward toward the room -- and the muffled music you'd been hearing hits you like a wave of bass. A dwarf in white leathers, with dark skin and a mirror-chrome mohawk nods at you, then starts to push the door closed behind you.
You take a moment to scan your environment - and for your eyes to adjust to the near-darkness. To your right is a large alcove, a room about 8 meters square, with a bar and a number of booths -- and two elven bartenders who could be twins - certainly from this distance anyway -- with long golden hair, chainmail crop-tops and white leather minis move with a speed that would take wires or magic as they mix up strange blubbling concoctions. All of the tables are occupied, and most of them have people leaning forward, presumably to make themselves heard. One exception is a booth against the windows, where a rail-thin, tall, gaunt man sits, looking down on the dancers while absently rubbing the back of an orc girl, between the leather wings attached to her costume.
The main area, however, is considerably larger - easily 85 meters long and 40 meters deep. The floor is black and cracked, with red inlaid into the cracks, giving the impression of walking over lava. The main feature of this level, however, are the massive holes in the floor -- the source of most of the light on this level -- the flashes and lasers from below easily overpowering the soft offwhite glow of the tables booths. Purgatory seems to be little more than a 5 meter perimiter above Stygia - a walkway ring with a number of booths along the walls - with a ramp of all things leading down to the level below.... A number of large brick pillars hold up the roof - some extending down to the level below - and most are painted with a grey cloud motif, matching the off-white and greys of the booths.
You blink a moment as you consider the pillars, the floor, the ramp... and realize the floor is actually asphalt -- and realize that the main club seems to be built in an underground parking garage.
You descend the first ramp into Stygia, and here, the music is louder still, speakers mounted strategically pushing sound into the main room where a mass of people are dancing, or jumping up and down and trying to motion at the two trolls jacked in on stage running the lights and the music. The white of the upper level is gone, replaced with blacks and reds -- even from the flashing lights, lasers and pillars painted with a flame motif, glowing under blacklights. You see, across the way -- between the stage and a very large bar -- the tunnel to Abbadon.
You turn the corner and descend the ramp again, coming to a wall painted to resemble a wall of flames, with a black wrought iron door sized for a troll mounted in the centre, under a single red light. As you approach, a female dwarf staggers out, followed by two orcs - one of each gender, though both are wearing little more than leather strips that hold leathery wings to their back, and leave almost nothing to the imagination. They nod at you smile, as they each loop and arm around the dwarf, and start back up the ramp - and you note that the ork girl's eyes are glowing with an internal silver light, which does much to complete the illusion. A few seconds after they've passed you, the red light above the door goes out, and you hear it unlock.... and push your way through.
The door opens, and you find yourself in darkness -- or, rather, a room lit with red light, like an old school darkroom -- where the walls, floor and roof are all painted black -- and the couches against the left-hand wall, and desk on the right are, somehow, even darker still, as if they're absorbing the light.... in the same way that the closing of the door absorbs the sound above.
A curvy human woman in her mid-30s, raven-haired, dressed in black leathers, sits behind the desk and smiles, at you, her voice throaty, "Welcome to Erebus... Glad you two could find each other. Looking for a room? Or someone to play with?"
...
She then lowers her hand and shrugs, "That's all. Other than that, everything goes, as long as it's not hurting anyone else... or yourself permanently, so no BTL."She waves her hand toward the door and says, "So, if you seek to enter, simply knock at the gate. I can't go in with you, as I don't want to set off the weapon detectors I warned you about.... But, before I go to let in the next lost soul -- any questions?"
"BTL? " Jay likes to think that he knows all the street slang, the citispeak, but BTL eludes him. Besides, his in no hurry to find out the reason behind this summons; it can only mean that a debt is due. And he's enjoying the conversation more than he would have expected. Starlight reminds him a little of his sister.
[b]"Thank you, Starlight. You have been most kind, and very informative." He maintains an affectedly straight face while he continues. "Should I be given the opportunity to complete a customer satisfaction survey, I will surely mention you most favorably."
At the core of the small joke, however, he is entirely sincere.
And through the portal.
Starlight chuckles, "We're a little less... corporate 'round here, even if half the clientelle are suits or their kids trying to 'live dagnerously'."
She heads back down the hall as the double doors swing open, into the room, the music you'd been hearing suddenly batters into you - the bass almost making you take a step back. A dwarf in white leather, with dark skin and a mirror-chrome mohawk nods at you before starting to push the door closed.
It takes a moment for your senses to adjust to the noise and near-darkness before you gain an awareness of your surroundings.
To your right is a large alcove, a 'room' about 8 meters square, with a bar and a number of booths which are painted a slightly luminescent soft white. Behind the bar are two elven girls with long golden hair, white leather microskirts and chainmail crop-tops -- from this distance they could be twins -- mixing up strange, bubbling drinks while dancing with a speed and grace that is literally unnatural. All of the booths in the area are occupied, with most filled with three to six people leaning forward, presumably shouting to make themselves heard. One exception is a booth against the windows, where a rail-thin, tall, gaunt man sits, looking down on the dancers while absently rubbing the back of an orc girl between the leather wings attached to her costume.
The main area is considerably larger - easily 85 meters long and 40 meters deep. The floor is black and cracked, with red inlaid into the cracks, giving the impression of walking over lava. The main feature of this level, however, are the massive holes in the floor -- making the primary source of most of the light on this level the flashes and lasers from the dance floor below. In fact, most Purgatory seems to be little more than a 5 meter perimeter of booths against the wall and a wide walkway that look down on wild dancing below. There are a number of brick and ferrocrete pillars holding up the roof - some extending down to the level below - and most are painted with a grey cloud motif, matching the off-white and greys of the booths.
At the far end of the room, you see what looks like the start of a wide ramp that descends to the level below... and it's that sight that sparks the realization -- the pillars, the ramp, the floor that's actually asphalt -- most of Infernal seems to have started its life as an underground parking garage.
The dark-skinned dwarf looks up at you and says, in a strangely-accented voice, "Go on. They won't bite unless you pay'em to."
Jay stands watching the scene. In his gut, some organ is vibrating sympathetically with the beat of the music. It's the kind of feeling that could become unpleasant if endured for too long. Movement will probably help. But where to go?
"Go on. They won't bite unless you pay'em to."
"Very reassuring," Jay shouts back. "I'm supposed to meet someone here tonight. Did anyone leave a message for Jay Gould?"
The Dwarf looks up at you, and you see your own reflection dozens of time in her mohawk as she says harshly, "We're not in the biz of taking messages...." As if the dismissal in her tone wasn't clear enough, she starts to turn back to the door then stops, turning back, "Sorry, wait. Gould? Hold....on...." Her voice trails off and her expression slackens for a moment, then you see her eyes start to move as she starts to shake her head... and then her expression changes and she nods, "Sorry about that. Number of people who want to seem important and give off the vibe that they're somebody, we tend to shut it down right away."
She shrugs, part of the apology, you think, then says, "Name was familiar, found it. No message, but you're on a list for a meet. You're going to want the Brimstone room. Ah, the private rooms are down on Erebus.." She points across the way to the ramp and says, "Two levels down. There's a reception area, tell 'em who you are, they'll take you to the room."
She smiles and says, "So, yeah, sorry again. I'd offer to buy you a drink, but your room's got a bar that's already paid for."
Starlight nods and heads back down the hall as you knock on the gate... and the double doors swing inward, causing the music you'd been hearing to slam into you like a solid wave of bass. A dwarf in white leather, with dark skin and a mirror-chrome mohawk nods at you before starting to push the door closed.
It takes a moment for your senses to adjust to the noise and near-darkness before you gain an awareness of your surroundings.
To your right is a large alcove, a 'room' about 8 meters square, with a bar and a number of booths which are painted a slightly luminescent soft white. Behind the bar are two elven girls with long golden hair, white leather microskirts and chainmail crop-tops -- from this distance they could be twins -- mixing up strange, bubbling drinks while dancing with a speed and grace that is literally unnatural. All of the booths in the area are occupied, with most filled with three to six people leaning forward, presumably shouting to make themselves heard. One exception is a booth against the windows, where a rail-thin, tall, gaunt man sits, looking down on the dancers while absently rubbing the back of an orc girl between the leather wings attached to her costume.
The main area is considerably larger - easily 85 meters long and 40 meters deep. The floor is black and cracked, with red inlaid into the cracks, giving the impression of walking over lava. The main feature of this level, however, are the massive holes in the floor -- making the primary source of most of the light on this level the flashes and lasers from the dance floor below. In fact, most Purgatory seems to be little more than a 5 meter perimeter of booths against the wall and a wide walkway that look down on wild dancing below. There are a number of brick and ferrocrete pillars holding up the roof - some extending down to the level below - and most are painted with a grey cloud motif, matching the off-white and greys of the booths.
At the far end of the room, you see what looks like the start of a wide ramp that descends to the level below... and it's that sight that sparks the realization -- the pillars, the ramp, the floor that's actually asphalt -- most of Infernal seems to have started its life as an underground parking garage.
The dark-skinned dwarf sees you looking around and rolls her eyes, then asks with an exaggerated patience, "Help you, omae? Lost? Looking for a drink? Something stronger? A girl? A boi? All of the above?"
... "Sorry about that. Number of people who want to seem important and give off the vibe that they're somebody, we tend to shut it down right away."
Jay smiles politely, a balmy panacea against offense or embarrassment. Behind the smile he's wondering if the dwarf is wifi'd to a central club system, or if the eye movements are just a normal part of memory recall.
She shrugs, part of the apology, you think, then says, "Name was familiar, found it. No message, but you're on a list for a meet. You're going to want the Brimstone room. Ah, the private rooms are down on Erebus.." She points across the way to the ramp and says, "Two levels down. There's a reception area, tell 'em who you are, they'll take you to the room."
She smiles and says, "So, yeah, sorry again. I'd offer to buy you a drink, but your room's got a bar that's already paid for."
Well that's nice.
" Think little of it. You have been very helpful."
With a firm destination, Jay makes his way toward the ramp employing his 'club weave', a combination of swaying, shuffling, solicitous stopping, and side stepping that has proven to be the preservation of many suits against the threat of spilled drinks and also effective in avoiding confrontations.
Two levels down, he steps to the reception desk.
"I'm Jay Gould. I think I'm expected in the Brimstone room."
The dwarf shrugs, "Suit yourself, I mean, there's only a few hundred people here, many of 'em mashed together dancing on the floor or in the Pit, not to mention the ones that might be in private rooms. Best of luck, omae."
You head down the ramp, paying little attention to the loud and busy second level, your brain just registering it as "busy", "loud" and "reddish", turning the ramp and heading toward a wall painted to resemble a wall of flames, with a black wrought iron door sized for a troll mounted in the centre, under a single red light, which is lit. You try the door, and it doesn't open... However, before your frustration mounts, the light above the door goes out and you hear it unlock, allowing you to push your way through.
The door opens, and you find yourself in darkness -- or, rather, a room lit with red light, like an old school darkroom -- where the walls, floor and roof are all painted black -- and the couches against the left-hand wall, and desk on the right are, somehow, even darker still, as if they're absorbing the light.... in the same way that the closing of the door absorbs the sound above.
A curvy human woman in her mid-30s, raven-haired, dressed in black leathers, sits behind the desk and smiles, at you, her voice throaty, "Welcome to Erebus..." She stops her spiel when you ask for the Brimstone room, and she simply nods, "Down the hall, turn right at the junction and then the door at the end of that hall. If you'd like, I can send a watcher to escort you.
The girl nods at Raptor's comment, then chuckles, "Sorry, you'll excuse me, there's not a lot of resemblance... and, honestly, siblings who party together - though not with each other - isn't all that rare."
She smiles wryly for a moment and watches Raptor's reaction before saying, "So you'll need to go through this door, turn right at the junction -- and the Brimstone room is literally at the end of the hall. If you'd like, I could send a watcher to escort you, though, honestly, you can't miss it."
You walk to the end of the hall and open the door into a small library -- three cherrywood shelves line the wall, two of which are filled with what seem to be actual paper books of all things, while the third looks much more like a chip library. On the opposite side of the room is a longer cherry bar cabinet, in which you can see a number of bottles, with a glasses of various sizes an ice bucket, and a container with strange yellow tubes about as wide as Raptor's thumb, and twice as long as a pinky. In the center of the room is a large, round cherry table with 10 chairs -- an inlaid datajack and display at each place. The far side of the room has double doors of the same reddish wood.
Lying across one of the chairs is an elf with dark indigo skin and long, spiky hair that is blacker than even the furniture in the waiting area, save for a single braid of white hair and a sky-blue leather cord that hangs down over his left eye to his chin. He looks up at you and smiles, his white teeth -- and pale blue featureless eyes, the whole orb the same colour as the leather in his braid -- are a stark contrast to the darkness of his ski-- no, he seems to be covered with a very fine layer of fur. In fact, it reminds you of something from your childhood--- oh, right, old Mrs. Sanders prized possession, that horrible thing on her wall... a Velvet.... Elvis, was it? It's been so long, it's hard to remember what terrible name it had.
The elf reaches behind his head and pulls out the datacable that was connecting him to the table, though makes no action to actually sit up. "Well, ain't none of you Guardian," he says with a tone filled with curiosity.
The dwarf holds up a finger, and you see her eyes moving a moment before she nods, "You're on the list for a meet in the Brimstone Room. It's on Erebus. Two levels down."