General World Information

[MalakiXanderos]

Continents, Islands, Cave systems and the like will be detailed here as they load in to game. Historical events, noteable appearances and the like. Anything that effects or defines the world on the global scale. That sort of thing.

[MalakiXanderos]

New Earth had always been home to a large variety of life. The dimensional Ley-lines that criss-crossed the surface of the planet lent a hand to the creation of life from non-life. Humans, Beastkin, Elves and Dwarves, Dragons and demons, Angels and the ethereal who were savvy enough to navigate between planes, all found open terrain and small cities for trade and interaction.

In it’s early state, New Earth had countless nations and states, all working for or against one another, each with their own sets of problems and both good and bad elements, as has any society moving toward civilization. Yet, one day, a figure arose from the ruins of a burning, abandoned home in Mordecia. He wore no markings, bore no memory of his past, but he was in possession of a rare and very special gauntlet.

With this gauntlet, he moved through the land performing miracles, producing rare and needed medicines, helping those who could not help themselves. He overthrew corrupt politicians by exposing their secrets, took down malevolent guardians of the peace and dismantled their networks. Every feat gained him more notoriety, and more influence, as a hero.

The first conflicts began when the mystery hero met the united force of a new pack of demons who had settled in a town called Southern Horizon. Their tendrils ran deep in the neighborhoods and into the very hearts of their subjects, but everyone seemed to be flourishing. The clan had turned a backwater trade hub in to what was developing into a bustling city surrounded in farmland that produced ten fold what any other land on the continent could provide.

The Hero saw them as a dangerous threat to the balance of the planet, introducing more and more technology, more and more bread and circuses to keep the masses under their grip, all the while draining the life force from the city’s occupants. Eventually, the hero managed to gain a foothold in the Melon district and start showing people how their saviors were evil and killing them. The revolt started from there. The central market divided. The markets cracked and the council that led the town was disassembled. At the peak of their tribalism, civil war erupted, divided between those hunting the demon overlords, and those fighting back the invaders and cancerous mindset of their neighbors and family members.

The fallout was felt across the planet. Tribal fights happened, as did crime, but when envoys from Mordecia and Northern Cross arrived to look over the commotion, the fields they found, “would stain this land until the suns burned out of the sky and the seas swallowed the earth” according to eye witnesses. In the ruins were four families. Two under the banner of Juno Nightbringer, Hero of New Earth, and two others under the banner of The Morales Clan of Makai.

The other nations of New Earth forced a treaty. The two enemies would rebuild what they had destroyed, and they would do so until either they died, or Southern Horizon was a flourishing city once more. At first, the two were hesitant partners in their punishment, plotting against one another, taking small jabs, ruining a crop here, chasing a family off by selling off their land from underneath them due to the fine print in some budget agreement.. Dirty pool. But, then their plans started syncing up. They needed water as they expanded, so the demons found a way to bind an ocean beneath the city, while the Nightbringer Industries made the containment and disbursed the water and energy to the outskirts. They thrived.

Soon the pair took things one step further. They both had projects.. Plans and things they wanted to see done. They formed a partnership, of technology and magic, and then they created wonders.

The city was divided into 9 sectors:

Sector 1: The Worker’s sector. This Sector was almost entirely residential. Huge, acre large buildings started coming up, floors upon floors built with the newest materials and enchanted to remain in it’s default condition when finished. One of the most innovative projects in the planet’s history, they built enough units to house the entire city’s population. A central area is set, hosting five stories of shopping greatness over the span of two miles. The district grew to surround the center, twenty, thirty, fourty story condo towers beginning to appear along the dividing walls which rivaled their growth. Access to the other sectors are located along the walls, midway across town, another along the concaved barrier wall to the Central District, and another, wider access gate along the broad outer wall.

Sector 2: The Mining sector. Built on one of the richest crystaline ore line on the planet, Sector 2 is mostly small houses, modest shops and stretches between mining sites, one at either end of the sector. The access points are in broad, low covered warehouses with large ventilation stacks coming out of the top. They usually produce an acrid smelling smoke that would settle on the town like a vague fog and cling to everything unless the wind is blowing hard, the district’s first eal hurdle having been forming a contract with the god of air to see to the disbursal of that gas. After a generation of fine tuning, the district’s pollution is drawn up above the city, and then sucked in to a portal, and deposited in the realm of air to disburse over time harmlessly, away from anything it might poison or corrupt.

Sector 3: The Travel sector. Sector 3 was designated the “central” hub of transit and shipping off world. It stands out mostly for the exclusivity of it’s residents, and the fact that 80% of everything that comes on or goes off of New Earth came through it’s doors. Because of that, there are only a few small stores that sell perishables and travel snacks spread out across the neighborhoods, each neighborhood located centered around a launch pad. There are 30 landing platforms in the sector, each hosting an apartment complex and a few small tiny houses, with a “general” store, and a fueling station.

Sector 4: The Social sector. This is where most of the city comes to really unwind. There is one theater, The Golden Dragon, that does a variety of plays and theatrical performances from around the galaxy, though not quite as sought after a venue as some of the Sector 6 Theaters. There are two large Casinos that compete for business on either side of town, The Happy Harpy and Moridin’s Casino and Resort. Both enjoy the competition and will compete on weekends, drawing in packed houses by Saturday night usually. There is a warehouse section of Sector 4, mostly housing shipments from Sector 3, along the dividing wall near the two gates at either end of the wedge shaped side of Sector 4. Bars and 24-hour diners litter the streets in between, including the infamous Polka Dot - founded by a hero of the sector by the name of Caitlyn, last name redacted. Gangs that operate in Sector 4 value profit and power too much to go to all out war with their competitors, but will fiercely compete and often get in small fights when the mood is right.

Sector 5: The Neon sector. This area is officially listed as a free sector, independent of the wills of the Central City rulers. In reality, the entire district is run by one of The Organization from the shadows as his personal pet project. The overseer is cold and calculating, but his work produces results, and in this world that meant an edge. Through ruthless business dealings and shadowy transactions, this district has become the home to a boastful 92% of Southern Horizon’s Research and Development scientists and prodegies. The technology and divices coming out of Sector 5 are on par with the products coming from Nightbringer Industries. Smaller, faster, sleeker and more integratable tech is developed with leaps and bounds as technology becomes available. Also home of one of the few souls who can wield magic and tech with equal proficiency.

Sector 6: What happens when the residents of Southern Horizon want to immerse themselves in cultural exploits? They go to Sector 6. This is the Valhalla of artists, poets and musicians alike. Every building is classy. The streets were always clean. The gangs fought in achievements, not brawls. Here in Sector 6, Expression becomes a way of life. Because of that, however, strict rules have been set in place to make certain that no one’s sense of artistic expression caused too much of a ripple. Senescences have to be acquired to post anything in a public area like a billboard or screen wall ticker. Dealers are hesitant around outsiders, knowing how hard it was to keep secrets secret in the digital age where someone was always watching. The entire district is run by a group of orgaizers called “Local Union 74*

Sector 7: The Defense sector. This sector is the least innovative of the districts, but also the most feared globally. Sector 7 is where the corporations test their destructive tech. Mostly occupied by warehouses and open miles of testing grounds, it’s advised to avoid the area even in the best of times unless you have a job that requires you to be there. Responsible for close to 70% of the city’s ‘loss of life’ accidents, the sector’s security is second only to that of Nightbringer Tower at the city center.

Sector 8: Haven. A name given the demons of Southern Horizon who wanted a piece of the pie, but still didn’t want to be evil while doing it. A strange demon, but ones that knew the value of playing the long con. Play nice, get to hang out longer. Souls were being traded and bartered, magic was the power behind nearly everything and the clans kept themselves in check, still true to the mission of the forerunners who had to unite to grow.

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Southern Horizon grew. As it did, the walls were moved outward in hundred yard incriments as the population and businesses grew. By the time it reached it’s current diameter, it took up most of the continent the megacity had been planted on. With a rich array of natural resources, and a Leyline directly under the city, energy production, magic and creative energies abound were all nurtured and monitored as they grew. Juno Nightbringer opted to consolidate power and control the elements of reality through contractual obligation. Bakkar and the rest of the Morales clan focused on continuing to create opportunity for their Sector 8 ‘family’, and making the most advanced weapons and armor in the universe.

The cause of the next rift is something that has been lost to time. Some will say they had been plotting against each other all along. Some people say that the Morales Clan finally went mad and surrendered to their nature. The histories, however, document the changing events and mood of the city around that time. A new figure emerged. Something that took root in Sector 8, and began to dominate through fear and violence. Malaki Xanderos had come to Southern Horizon. He was a spirit of fear and intimidation, given a mortal frame by the altruism of the Morales Clan. The day he was made manifest, the monster began his reign of terror, torturing his victims and often displaying their bodies around his territory as skinned and broken corpses.

Both the Morales Clan and Nightbringer Industries responded to the threat. The Organization solidified and closed ranks, drawing all of their power and influence into the center city sector while trying to control the flow of demons seeking refuge from the darkness that fed on them. The Morales Clan rallied their forces and started striking back at Malaki, limiting his expansion by either saving or eliminating his minions, and becoming symbols of the struggle against fear itself.

For ten years this struggle continued. At it’s inception, the fearful days were marked with the birth of something other than Malaki. Ravenous Morales, the son of Essence Nightbringer and Bakkar Morales was born. The combined potential combat power the child had made Bakkar seek to turn him in to a weapon against Malaki. Something fearless, powerful, ruthless in combat and able to focus through suffering in order to accomplish his goal. So with that in mind, from the point the child began to walk, he was trained by one of the most notorious tacticians in the planet’s history.

By year 11, Ravenous was fully grown, and seeking his own social circle. Just as he had begun making actual friends, one being his cousin Caitlyn, the other being his close friend, Blake Aensland. A day came when the eye of Malaki fell on the younger generation of his enemy. Caitlyn was captured and tortured, but managed to barely escape with her life, her spirit broken, the light behind her eyes a vague glaze over empty eyes. In a rage, Ravenous confronted Malaki on his own turf. The ensuing fight was nothing short of disastrous for the district. Buildings laid low, holes like craters blown in the developed earth. In the end, Ravenous managed to defeat Malaki. The victory had taken it’s toll, however, and the sadness and misery spread by the spirit of fear and pain resonated through the cracks in the pavement, seeping in to the very air of the district. But, for all intents and purposes, it looked like the conflict had finally come to an end, and the unification of tech and magic was stronger than ever.

Weapons developed after the Shadow War were… impressive, to say the least. It no longer was about “How do we poke holes in something at a distance?” but “How creatively we want to spread the remaining pieces after they get hit?” Powerful magics were turned in to charge cannons and stutter (air) weaponry. Ammunition began to become a rechargeable asset with the unlimited power that the Nightbringer Organization had provided by manipulating the leylines and feeding the grid through the life essence of the planet. They did so in a sustainable fashion, using the essence emerging from the leyline to act like the motivator for a perpetual motion engine, located somewhere near the city center. But behind the scenes, a new conflict was building.

Essence Nightbringer had died in child birth. A vampire, she was given the gifts of her ability to reproduce by her father, Juno via his gauntlets. After Ravenous, and the Shadow War, she wanted to have more. It was not to be. The essence of her second child began feeding on her body, creating a slow leak in her soul that couldn’t be replaced. Between the child’s draining, and Bakkar’s feedings, it was late in her final term when she fell ill and had to be placed in the hospital. Juno blamed Bakkar for her state. Bakkar blamed Juno for not just using his nearly limitless power to save his daughter because of some stupid rule that was instituted about not using his powers directly to dramatically change the course of fate. Essence’s final moments were with Bakkar on one side of her bed, and Juno on the other, glaring daggers at each other while promising Essence that they wouldn’t fight. That the warring was done.

The peace didn’t last so much as a full year before the new war began.

This one wasn’t limited to one sector, though by the end, Sector 7 and 8 had been all but flattened. Buildings disintegrated, ground poisoned. The fighting was sudden, and unending. The Morales Clan claim they were attacked first, the Nightbringer Industries group insisting with evidence that they were the victims of an assault. The war raged as both sides created entirely new ways of destroying each other, weapons made for exorcising demons and capturing them in soul stones, things made by the other side that would literally disintegrate the molecules of whatever the blast touched.

By the time the smoke cleared, and reports started coming in, the Morales Clan had been pushed back in to the last remaining warehouse in Sector 8, that was once a thriving sector of their kind. Bakkar and Juno met again. This time to discuss surrender. After countless years and generations of tense in-fighting… it was finally coming to an end. Juno allowed the demons to retreat, swearing never to return. Bakkar, angry but compliant, withdrew from the city, amid a $60M credit bounty being placed on their heads.

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[MalakiXanderos]

Vampi approached the border wall of sector 4, slowing her bike as she waits in the queue to go through into the megacity, Southern Horizon. She was compact, only 5' 3" tall, but with a DD cup and slender hips, she was a flawless example of humanity, no cybernetics, no upgrades, no chrome plating... she was outwardly, a very beautiful 20 something human. Her black hair was cut short in an a-line bob, and she wore a pair of short shorts, military boots, a white half shirt and a bright red leather biker jacket with a Samurai logo on the back. Looking up at the city, she smiled to herself... It was nice to be home now that she'd grown up off world. Not truly grown... she hadn't grown an inch in over a thousand years... but the only place she'd ever really enjoyed calling home.

The gangs, the excitement, the street races, the running away from overzealous police...

The border guards inspect the various vehicles entering the city. A few cars, a few bikes—and then, Vampi's. They give it a quick once-over, eyes narrowing as they take in the bike's speed and design. The guard that leans down to talk to her has a cybernetic left arm, metal and chrome flashing in the fading sun.

Guard: "Bike's a little fancy for a street racer, don't you think, miss?"

Vampi looked over at him from behind her sunglasses, giving a charming smile of deep crimson lips. "She's my baby. I've spent a lot of time and energy in keeping this wonderous machine in tip top shape. You'd think I was some kinda wastelander, all greasy and sweaty, sticking half out from under it.." she spoke, her voice seeming to reach in to the very core of the man's mortal soul to kindle a familiar want she knew every living thing had.

The guard stiffens—just slightly—before exhaling through his nose. His cybernetic fingers twitch against his rifle strap.

Guard: "Uh… yeah. Sure. Just—keep it under control, alright? Last thing we need is another racer flipping their ride at the Skyline Overpass."

He waves her through—maybe a little too fast—clearing his throat as she passes.

Guard (muttering to his partner): "Jesus Christ, what the hell was that?"

Vampi gave a small nod of her head, revving her bike a little and pulling off in to the main drag that led in to town. She passed the warehouses, the space port, headed for The Velvet Shadows bar downtown. She had plans to go to The Polka Dot later to meet with this.. Raeder... to see about starting her recruiting efforts. She was planning revolution... she had to start somewhere, and Sector 4 was the place to begin planting seeds.

The city is the same as it always is—a mix of seedy crime, neon lights, and the constant thrum of engines. Various gangers hang out on street corners—checking out the crowd—while a few street racers roar down the main street, weaving among cars, motorcycles, and the occasional drone. A few hookers catcall a passing driver, one even slapping the fender of an expensive vehicle. A group of cops walk the beats, eyeing every face that gets too close with suspicion.

Vampi arrives at the Velvet Shadows bar—a place as classy as possible in a city such as this. There's a bouncer at the door—built like a tank—as well as a metal detector. Security is tight around here—the city's elite and the rich like their privacy.

Bouncer: "ID, girl. No exceptions. No matter how cute you are."

Vampi eyed the bouncer, hands slipping in to her pockets of her leather jacket. She looked like any other street kid, but the way she smiled spoke of hard earned confidence. The weight of experience. She ran down the ways she could handle him... If she wanted, she could simply suck the soul out of him with a touch. If she wanted, she could just old fashioned suck the soul out of him. She didn't want... there would be time for pleasure later. She had to land first, and that meant a room.

Instead, she looked up at him seriously. "Look... let me save us some time and agony. I have business with your boss, Mr. Knight. Just ask him. Tell him his fake wife is here to talk. Privately."

The bouncer raises an eyebrow, eyes narrowing slightly as he looks down at her, taking in her appearance and the confidence in her voice. "The boss doesn't see just anyone, doll. Who exactly do you think you are?"
He's clearly skeptical—and for good reason. She has no gang affiliation, no obvious cybernetic upgrades. She looks like every other street kid trying to get in to the big leagues.

Vampi takes off her sunglasses, looking at him still, her eyes a deep violet color. "Make the call. Please." she asked again, this time with a little more politeness in her tone, but it was clear her patience was running thin.

The bouncer sighs—grumbling—before tapping the comm unit in his ear. His expression shifts from annoyance to surprise, then back to annoyance.

Bouncer: "Boss says… go ahead."
He steps aside, unhooking the velvet rope blocking the door. As Vampi passes, he leans down slightly—voice low.

Bouncer: "Don’t make me regret this."

Vampi bows her head, sliding her sunglasses into her pocket and stepping through the doors. She was greeted by the sweet scents and dark shadows, the vampire bar as elite as it had always been. She'd avoid attracting much more attention to herself than her outfit offered, making her way toward the manager's office at the back. She was still on the wanted list for this entire city. A kill on sight order had been listed ever since her clan disappeared some ten years ago. Now, she was back... and she needed a landing spot. K'rimson Knight was her best bet. She'd saved his life more than enough times to ask a favor..

The interior of the Velvet Shadows is dimly lit—crimson neon casting long shadows across the polished black floors. The air hums with low chatter, the clink of glasses, and the occasional murmur of hushed deals. A few patrons glance at Vampi—recognizing something in her gait, her presence—before quickly looking away.
At the back, past the VIP booths and the private rooms, stands a reinforced door guarded by another towering bouncer. This one nods—silent—before stepping aside.

Inside, behind a sleek obsidian desk, sits K'rimson Knight—vampire lord, information broker, and the man who owes Vampi more than a few favors. His crimson eyes flick up as she enters, a smirk curling his lips.

K'rimson: "Well, well. The real wife finally shows her face."

Vampi closed the door, but would smile from across the room. "You're looking well. As always. Nice to see you've been taking care of yourself.." she offered politely before she crossed the room to take a seat across from him, her violet eyes settling on his red ones.

K'rimson chuckles, leaning back slightly in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. His smirk deepens—teasing.

K'rimson: "And you're as stunning as always, doll. Still looking for trouble, I see."
His crimson eyes rake across her body, appreciating her form with a slow, lingering look. He may owe her a few favors, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to have some fun before they got down to business.

Vampi closed her eyes, resting an elbow on the arm rest and propping her chin up on her knuckles. She'd half open her eyes after, looking over at him as if unconcerned about the power he held in this sector. "I heard you were under consideration for a promotion. Going to join The Organization and leave us?"

K'rimson raises an eyebrow, amused by her question and her nonchalance. He knows she's trying to catch him off guard—and it's working. He leans back in the chair a little more—almost lounging, now—an easy smirk still playing on his lips.
K'rimson: "And what if I am?"
There's a challenge to that question—as if he's baiting her, testing her reaction. He can't let her see any weakness, even in private. Even if they're old friends.
"Then you are. The more pertinent question is... when the time comes... do you remember where your loyalties lie...?" she'd ask calmly in that same patiently lazy tone, blinking slowly as she studies him.
K'rimson's smirk falters a little at that question—his eyes narrowing just slightly as he studies her in return. He knows what she's hinting at. He owes her more than a few favors, and she has a habit of cashing them in at the most… inconvenient… moments.

K'rimson: "And what if I said they lie with The Organization?"
His voice is still confident, still cocky… but there's the slightest hint of wariness now.

She sighs, closing her eyes. "A shame. I had hoped to find you a bit more... tired.. of dealing with someone with an arm shoved up your ass.." she sighed. She couldn't risk it... if he even joked about loyalty to the organization, he'd been... watered down.

K'rimson exhales—sharp—through his nose, leaning forward with a sudden, dangerous focus. His fingers tap against the desk—once—before curling into a loose fist.
K'rimson: "Careful, Vampi. Even you don't get to talk about them like that in my house."
*But the way he says it… the slight pause before "them"… the subtle flicker in his gaze… It’s not denial. It’s calculation.

"Your house you built on a foundation laid by me and my clan. Not vampires. We don't owe you allegiance now and we didn't then. But I saw the benefit of teaming up with you and yours, and we managed to kick those arrogant fuckwits the hell out of our playground." she answered, eventually opening her eyes to stare over at him.
"Fuck Juno Nightbringer, and his whole goddamn organization." she moved to stand. "And if you're cowering at the very mention of their name, fuck you too. I'll go find some friends with some balls."

K'rimson is on his feet in an instant—a low, hissing sound rumbling in his chest as he crosses the room in two strides, grabbing Vampi's arm and spinning her around to press her back against the desk. He leans over her, close enough that they're almost nose-to-nose, his crimson gaze locked on her own.
K'rimson: "Don't you dare question my loyalty, Vampi. I've bled for your precious clan, and I'll be damned if you question me just because you got a bug up your ass about something."

"Still got that fire when you're begrudging old wounds to a lone succubus, K..." she spoke quietly, calm, even now not in fear of her life. K'rimson was many things. But he wasn't vicious, even if he played at it from time to time.
"Take your goddamn hand off me before I decide to do something we'd both regret, K'rimson Knight... I'm not one of your little toys... Lest I need to remind you.."

K'rimson's grip on her arm loosens, but he doesn't let go yet. He's still staring at her—his eyes still locked on hers—and he still has her effectively pinned up against the desk. There's a tension there—a silent stand-off—as they stare at each other in the low light of that office. After a long moment, he speaks, his voice quiet and strangely, unexpectedly… intimate.
K'rimson: "… you wouldn't dare."

"Like I said... neither of us would enjoy it.." she offered softly, simply standing there, her hands gripping the edge of his desk to her sides, focused on him. "I just got back in to town... I'm going to get the bounty off my head... and settle down.. right here. I want to. I need to. I've been... so tired... of knowing that all this is right here, and I couldn't be here for it. I need a place to stay.. low key.. some starting capitol.. not much, just a few weeks for food and a new fake ID badge..."

K'rimson studies her for a long moment before giving a small, almost imperceptible nod. He's considering her request. He hasn't let go yet, but his grip on her arm has relaxed, almost gentle now. There's a look in his crimson eyes—some mixture of annoyance, curiosity, and… concern? He shakes it off, speaking softly.
K'rimson: "And in return… what do I get?"

"I don't have anything to offer, K. I can't promise you I won't be trouble, you know how wanted I am right now. I can't promise to pay you, since I don't have anything. I'm not going to be looking for a paycheck.. I'm looking for payback.. I can't promise you anything but a position to stand with the people against Nightbringer Industries and The Organization..."

K'rimson lets out a slow exhale—his fingers finally loosening their grip on her arm. He steps back, running a hand through his hair before chuckling, shaking his head.

K'rimson: "Damn it, Vampi. You always did know how to make an offer impossible to refuse."
He walks around the desk, pulling open a drawer and tossing a small, sleek black card onto the polished surface.

K'rimson: "Safehouse. Uptown. Rent’s paid for a month. Don't get yourself killed."

Vampi picks up the card, sighing some. She bowed politely. "Consider us even, then. I know it's a big ask. When the time comes.. your kindness will be remembered. And I don't think I need to say just how sensitive the information is that I'm back in town.. If you could keep the accountants off my back.. it'd be appreciated."

K'rimson gives a huff, leaning back against the desk and folding his arms. There's a slight smirk on his face—almost amused by the situation.
K'rimson: "You know damn well I'm not going to be telling anyone about this. Like I said, I'd like to see you alive to pay me back for all the trouble you're going to cause me."
He lets out a low, dry chuckle before adding…
K'rimson: "I've missed your annoying ass."

Vampi looked at her keycard. It had a logo on it for The Sleeping Tiger, a decently popular apartment complex uptown. Floor thirty. Room 6. up high.. convenient. She'd nod some, glancing back at him and slipping the card away. "Once it's safe for me, I'll give you a shout. It'd be nice to actually catch up.."

K'rimson waves a hand dismissively—but there's something genuine in the gesture.
K'rimson: "Yeah, yeah. Don't get sentimental on me now. Just try not to get smoked before then."
He glances toward the door, exhaling sharply.
K'rimson: "And for fuck’s sake, don’t get jumped on your way out. That'd be embarrassing."

The Sleeping Tiger apartments aren't exactly the classiest—but they're not the worst. The elevator is cramped, the lights flickering and the walls dull and scratched. Everything smells vaguely of cigarettes, cheap booze, and something vaguely worse—likely emanating from the stairwell. Vampi eventually arrives at her floor, making her way down the dimly lit hallway to room 6.

She slides the keycard in to the lock on the door, the light blinking green and the lock disengaging with a click.
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*****The Lighting Of The Match*****
The room isn't huge—the kitchen and living area are all one space, broken up by only a half wall in to the bedroom. The furniture is old, the carpet worn, and the whole place has that smell of old cigarette smoke, but everything seems clean and the bed looks comfortable. Overall, it's not the worst place she's ever stayed. As she wanders further inside, she spots a folder on the counter in the kitchen with "Welcome" scrawled on it with marker.

A few hours pass—nothing more exciting or interesting than the sounds of the city below. This high above the rest of the city, Vampi can hear the rumble of engines in the distance—the constant roar of life in the nightlife capital. It's quiet here—the room on the 30th floor—and that's probably intentional. A safe place above the hustle and bustle of the crime ridden city.... That is... until there’s a soft knock at the door. Followed by a voice, surprisingly quiet—
???: "Vampi... are you awake in there?"

Vampi glanced at the door, frowning some. She was getting ready to start her planning, and enjoying a moment of quiet to herself, which meant she'd slipped out of her jacket and shirt, her shorts and boots and socks, remaining only in a pair of lace panties and a bra. She turned to the kitchen, walking over to the strip of countertop along one wall of the loft. "Come in..."

The door swings open—just slightly—before Juno Nightbringer himself steps inside, his eyes immediately locking onto Vampi’s exposed skin. He blinks—clearly not expecting this—before quickly shutting the door behind him.
Juno: "Oh. Uh. Sorry. Didn’t realize you were—"
He clears his throat, gesturing vaguely at her state of undress.
Juno: "—busy."

Vampi turned to see who it was, small carving knife in one hand and an apple in the other. When her violet eyes fell on the 7' 5" astro-elf Businessman, her heart stopped. Her brain came to a screeching halt. This was the man who had integrated the infinity stones into his very being... his -thought- could erase her from existence.. and not just banishment, but erasure. She'd come to this city to finish what the last rebellion started... and now... the enemy king had just walked in to her loft before she could even enjoy the apartment for a full night. She should've known better..... that son of a bitch was always one step ahead... even now, some hundred years after the war between his operations, and her clan...

"H......" she was always good with words, and yet right now all of them failed her. Even her anger was tripping over itself in her mind, scrambling to make a plan of escape..

Juno watches her reaction with an amused expression, clearly enjoying the fact that he had—literally—caught her pants down. His eyes roam over her, tracing the curves of her bare skin—and lingering on that little strip of lace that covered almost nothing.

He strolls forward, his hands in his pockets—eyes never leaving her own—coming to a stop just out of arm's reach…

Vampi blinked up at him, backing away until her backside hit marble countertop. She breathed, shakey but slow, her eyes darting around some as if wanting to search around but afraid to leave him.

She clutched the knife so hard her knuckled hurt, the apple starting to crack in her other fist... If she lunged at him that suit would just bend her blade.. She knew how heavily armored the head of the organization was when he left his spire. She could go for his face, but he was faster than she was... Her breathing started to quicken...

Juno takes another step forward, closing the distance between them just a little more. He can see the tension in her muscles—the sweat beginning to beading on her skin—and his lips twitch up into a smirk.
Juno: "I'm going to have to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly…."
Another step closer, the glint of his silver hair almost close enough to brush her cheek.

Vampi wouldn't shrink back any more... she couldn't... and she wouldn't let him see her tremble... not like this. "What..."

Juno was now standing directly in front of her—their bodies almost touching—and he had to tilt his head down to look into her eyes. There was a spark in his own—something almost mischievous, and yet... calculated.
His hand moved—quick as lightning—snatching the knife from her hand and tossing it casually aside, the silver blade clattering against the wall.
Juno: "Why are you really back in Sector 4, Vampi?"

Vampi moved, ducking off to the side and forsaking the knife, the apple thudding on the ground as she turned to face him again, this time in a more defensive stance, arms raised, eyes focused on his.

He was unreadable.... that's what made him dangerous. Like he tapped in to fate the second his choice was made and acted before she could read his soul. The thing was... dark... but godly.. infinite.. it was like drinking from wells for a thousand years, and then seeing the ocean for the first time. Vast...
"Doesn't matter why I'm here... You've got no business with me..."

Juno’s smirk doesn’t falter—but his eyes narrow, his amusement fading into something sharper. He tilts his head slightly, his silver hair catching the dim light of the apartment.
Juno: "Oh? Because it seems like my business is currently standing in front of me, half-naked, and plotting something."
He takes another step—cornering her—his voice dropping to a dangerous purr.
Juno: "And I hate being lied to."

"I suppose you're used to being the only liar in the room.." she growled at him darkly, taking a final step back

Juno snorts at that, his gaze flickering down her body—taking in every inch of her nearly-naked skin—before returning to her face. His own expression darkens, and there's a slight twitch to the corner of his lips as if he's trying not to smile.
Juno: "Careful, Doll… that almost sounded disrespectful."

Vampi lunged at him, launching a leaping fist aimed at his jaw with 110% maximum effort. "I'll show you disrespectful you genocidal son of a bitch!"

Juno was fast—faster than her—but his expression darkened at her lunge. In an instant, his hand lashed out, catching her wrist, his fingers closing around her arm with enough strength to crush steel. His gaze was no longer amused… in fact, it was nothing short of dangerous.
Juno: "You little fool… did you honestly think you could take me in a fight? You couldn't even land one damn punch…."

Vampi let out a yelp as he grabbed her wrist, stumbling before he jerked her upright again like standing up a rag doll, her toes just able to touch the ground as she struggled for traction, her opposite hand grabbing his tie and snapping it tight against his throat, wrapping it around her hand as tightly as she could, glaring daggers at him. "You're a fucking coward, Juno Nightbringer... You always have been..." she snapped at him, then reeled back, spitting in his face.

Juno's eyes flashed—anger flaring within him like a sudden inferno. In a single, brutal move, he'd pinned her against the wall. His hands wrapped around her throat, his fingers closing around her air supply like iron bands.
Juno: "You have about three seconds to take that back before I snap your little neck like a toothpick… and then crush whatever pathetic life you have left like a bug beneath my heel."
He was no longer playing games—he'd had enough of her bullshit.

"Fire's been lit.... da'tsang.... And this time... you can't stop it..." she choked out, her hands gripping his wrists, her fingertips like claws, digging in against his forearm but bending back against the armored threads of his suit. Held off her feet, her head back against the wall, she takes a struggling breath, raspy beneath his hands around her throat.

Juno's grip tightens—just slightly—before he exhales sharply through his nose, pressing her further into the wall. His fingers press into her flesh—just enough to bruise—but he doesn't kill her.

Yet.

Juno: "Who lit it, Vampi? Who's pulling your strings?"
His voice is low—dangerous—his crimson eyes burning into hers.
Juno: "And don't lie to me."

"The Gods Themselves..." Vampi forces out, her eyes darkening as she gathers her essence.. that which makes her a demon.. all of the subtle nibbles of soul essence she syphoned off the crowd at their last performance..
She couldn't scream.. she couldn't whimper.. she couldn't generate enough intentional sound to use any of her bardic spells.. But gradually she began to gather, the air around them trying to grow darker.

Juno watches—his grip loosening just slightly—as the air thickens, shadows curling at the edges of his vision. His smirk is cold—unimpressed—as he leans in close, his breath brushing against her ear.
Juno: "You think the gods scare me?"
His fingers tighten again—cutting off her breath—before he whispers—
Juno: "I eat gods for breakfast."

Vampi struggled against the wall, heels thudding against the metal panels as her fingers claw frantically at his arms, his neck, anywhere exposed. Her legs struck out at his, trying to hit the inside of his knee to try and force his leg to bend... any trick she could think up... the immediate need was to get his hands off her throat before her body lost consciousness. That darkness she wielded began to waver, fading.

Juno watches her struggle—his grip tightening—before abruptly releasing her, letting her drop to the floor in a heap. He steps back, straightening his tie with a smooth motion, his expression unreadable.
Juno: "Pathetic."
He turns—walking toward the door—before stopping, glancing over his shoulder.
Juno: "Tell your gods I said hello."

Vampi roared in her mind as the lights were literally turned off. The body she had possessed collapsing like a sack of potatoes. She was trapped. She had to wait.

Leave it to him... she didn't know how long it was, but when her eyes opened again, they looked out at a sunset through the shades, her eyes puffy, her throat raw.

She'd blink a few times, finally having full access to her powers again.. she'd take time to heal the injured spirit she had consumed to gain her form... soothing those aches.. turning pain into a warm throb pulsing through her muscles. "Old business.... Sorry about that.... But now... you see why we're really here..." she spoke in a raspy voice mostly to herself, slowly pushing herself to her feet... and heading for the shower...

Juno's presence no longer lingered in the air. Instead, the faint scent of his cologne still clung to the bedsheets, his touch still lingered on her skin. The room was quiet… except for that incessant, rhythmic, ticking.

Tock

Tock

Tock

The sound was soft—coming from the closet to her right—its door slightly opened, the ticking just barely audible over the sound of the running shower.

She didn't remember having a ticking clock. She frowned...

"No way....." she'd turn anyway on bare feet, walking cautiously to the closet, and peeking inside.

Inside the closet—nestled between two hanging coats—sat a small black box with a digital timer counting down.

00:00:03

00:00:02

00:00:01

The screen flashed red—then—

BOOM

A sudden blast of sound and light—brighter than the sun—erupted from the box. The force knocked Vampi backward—her vision whiting out—her body slamming into the wall behind her.

Vampi's world dissolved into searing white light and deafening noise. The shockwave tore through the apartment—windows shattering, furniture splintering, flames erupting from the epicenter. She barely registered the impact as her body crashed through drywall, landing in a twisted heap amidst the rubble.

Smoke curled into the sky—the entire 30th floor now a smoldering ruin. Distant alarms wailed. Somewhere, people screamed.

And beneath the wreckage—buried under shattered concrete and twisted metal—Vampi's fingers twitched weakly. Blood trickled from her lips.

Consciousness flickered.

Vampi's eyes fluttered, still half blind from the damn flash of the explosion. She pushes her hand up, sliding a panel off of her with a grunt. "That... son of a bitch...." she spat blood, slowly turning and pushing herself up with a wince.

Her side was torn open, a piece of rebar sticking out of her right thigh, black blood leaking across bruised and now half charred or filthy skin. She looked a damn mess. But she was alive. That was.... a nice welcome present...

Now, she was going to have to re evaluate her allies.... and rip K'rimson Knight's soul out of his fucking body...
Beaten.. but not dead. Just like all the rest of this city. She was done hiding. This was the city -she- helped build. The district -she- demanded exist when it's inception was still being sketched on tree bark.

Her wounds began to heal... the rebar torn from her leg and held like a spear at her side while she steps up to the edge of the ruined penthouse suite, wreathed in fire and alarms, and glared out at the central spire of the city.

Shadows wrapped around her bare figure and formed in to her typical shorts and shirt, as well as her jacket... It was past time to go to work, and she was going to have to rally support fast.

The first meetings to arrange? The gangs. They had turf. Connections. And now, she understood why they all watched The Velvet Shadows like hawks.. because -fuck- those guys too...

[MalakiXanderos]

Part 1: Gangs:
1. The Steel Serpents

Leader: “Wilhelm”
More machine than man
walking tank
missing face plate
gorilla arms cybernetic
Nightbringer Industries MilSpec Optics
Advanced Cyberwarfare Suite (Adds 25% to hack failure chance)

Quantum Minigun: Fires superheated metal shavings from a rectancular “brick” of durasteel, shaved off using a NBI Magicut parser. The shaving it pushed into a cycling chamber that essentially “grates” the sliver into inch long slivers, then spins the rounds up and launches it out the barrels in alternative bursts from three separate barrels at near supersonic speeds. Leftover piece of the time leading up to the Morales/Businessman war, technology that included both cutting edge firearm technology and the arcane enchantments of a Hellforge.

Territory: Industrial district with factories and warehouses.
Characteristics: Known for their brutal efficiency and heavy machinery.
Motivation: Control over the manufacturing of weapons and drugs.
Leadership: A former factory worker turned ruthless leader who values loyalty and strength.
Symbol: A coiled serpent wrapped around a wrench.
Conflict Style: Heavy-handed, often using brute force and intimidation.

2. Sovereigns of Liberation (SoL) (Formerly "The Velvet Shadows")
Leader: Lairen “Al” Loc’Alamanche De’mar
Newly Appointed Leadership
Dark Elf
Grassroots Origin - His uprising was just the next step of his ascension, rising from the lowest of ranks into the then empty leadership seat.
Charismatic - Usually very charming
Rich - Being the go-between between Sector 4 and the Central District, they are well paid.
Territory: High-end clubs and upscale districts.
Characteristics: Sophisticated and manipulative, operating in the underground of the elite.
Motivation: Control over luxury drugs and high-stakes gambling. Update: Now expanding communications network to replace Nightbringer's network. Aiming to form a co-op with the other gangs to manage the city.
Symbol: A rising sun with a dragon rising in the background like a phoenix.
Conflict Style: Subtle and strategic, often using espionage and social manipulation.

3. The Iron Fist
Leader: “Viscoth”
Leadership - Ex-military Captain
Organized - Operations are spread out but connected via a private network they have built apart from The Net
Discipline - He has the capacity to train underlings up to his own level of CQC and Ranged Combat
Vicious Tactician - His strategies maximize body count and destruction of his enemies and their capacity to act against his neighborhood.
Territory: Slums and impoverished neighborhoods.
Characteristics: A gang that thrives on intimidation and power, known for their brutal enforcement of control.
Motivation: Protect their territory and keep a close eye on those in their neighborhoods under their protection.
Symbol: A clenched fist with iron knuckles.
Conflict Style: Guerrilla tactics and ambushes, focusing on psychological warfare.


4. The Neon Reapers
Leader: “BlackwallCharon”
Unknown Identities - Every member is anonymous

Net Control - On their private network used for communications between members, monitoring security feeds and controlling the automated VI of their headquarters, Charon is essentially a god. On The Net, she is able to harvest data and programs like a tenured pickpocket, occasionally leaving packets of data behind to be found for various reasons. All lingering data of her presence appears to have generated from the reader’s own device.

Addicts: The members of this gang all have tech addictions, though most avoid baring any visible cybernetics outside their data ports, usually located at the base of the neck and to either side of the spine.

Territory: The neon-lit underbelly of the city, including alleyways and tech hubs.

Characteristics: Tech-savvy and innovative, using hacking and cyber-crime to gain an edge.

Motivation: Control over digital markets and the flow of information.

Symbol: A glowing scythe cutting through a circuit board.

Conflict Style: High-tech sabotage and cyber warfare, often using drones and surveillance.

Sector 4 runs in a long triangle pattern, the entire sector shaped like a wedge of pizza with a bite taken out of the tip, marked by the walls dividing the sectors, the outer perimeter wall, and the curved wall that leads to the Center Sector. The streets run in sweeping arcs from side to side, radiating outward from the center wall and dividing the buildings in each quadrant of a cross. The two northern neighborhoods consist of about thirty blocks long by twenty blocks wide residential and small business zones, northwest and north east, respectively. The southeast neighborhood houses most of the entertainment for the city and one of two casinos. The southwest neighborhood contains storage yards, a warehouse district, one launch pad for space travel and business offices for the sector.

The Nightstalkers:
The Lore: The Bio-Discard Problem
When a batch of Beastkin—humanoid hybrids—comes out with the wrong eye color, a predatory temperament, or simply "last season’s" DNA, they are dumped into the industrial incinerator chutes.
The Foundlings are those who crawled out of the trash. They aren't trying to take over the sector; they’re just trying to keep the smallest among them fed.

The Hierarchy
The Matriarch/Patriarch ("Big Sis"): They don't lead by ego, but by a "first to fight, last to eat" code.
The Scroungers: The mid-tier teens. Feline or Corvid-splices used for rooftop surveillance, pickpocketing, and "liberating" supplies from corporate shipments.
The Pups: The youngest and most "unstable" splices. They are kept in the "Den" (usually an abandoned climate-control vault) and protected at all costs.

Visual Aesthetic
Tactical Hand-me-downs: Oversized riot gear, mismatched cybernetic plating, and jackets held together by industrial adhesive.
The Mark: They don't use tattoos (fur makes it hard). Instead, they use neon-reactive spray paint on their tails or ears to identify one another in the dark.
Weaponry: Primarily "deterrence" gear—stun batons, nets, and smoke pellets. They prefer to disappear rather than draw a full Enforcer crackdown.

The "Business" Model: They are the Sector’s premier Information Rats.
The Trade: Because they can fit into vents and crawlspaces that even a drone can’t navigate, they sell secrets to the higher-level syndicates.
The Currency: They rarely take credits. They trade for medical suppressants (to stop "gene-rot"), clean water, and high-protein kibble.

As of 3/28, the gangs of Sector 4 have been folded into the umbrella of the SoL. Working with other gangs with the SoL as mediators of disputes and distributers of resources, each of the tribes has found ways to give a little and gain a lot, all of them having broken free of their reliance on Nightbringer Industries. Together, they have pooled their resources, and locked down their ideal positions. The Steel Serpents and the Iron Fist have united to form a defense and rapid response force since the "police" in Sector 4 have been essentially deactivated by the central district, forcing the citizens of Sector 4 to create their own security mechanism. The Neon Druids were forced to relinquish their "Neon" title, but were given the space and infrastructure they needed to begin growing food, everywhere there was a spare patch big enough to host a greenhouse, from a stand set up to grow enough vegetables for a small family, to their repurposed server farm which produced enough to make sure no one had to go completely without. It wasn't without sacrifice... Each of the gangs has essentially had to bend the knee to the SoL. At the moment, it's a new golden age in Sector 4, even though the doors are closed, no traffic flows through the gates of sector 5, 3 and the central district. At the moment.