Moldie
Modpurger Edgelord
Chapter one - Intergalactic Hash Brownie Trip
In an empire finding itself in an era of severe distress and civil unrest, a scene of crime and illegal activity can thrive. Whether it be smuggling, murder or other organized crime it mostly goes unpunished as the police draws towards its last breath. But even though all of these are factors of criminal success, it’s not easy being part of this world. Gang violence and piracy affects everyone, with famine and sickness amongst political and infrastructural collapse corroding the empires structure. Even though the empire is looking worse than ever, it’s military still stands strong and is still laying waste on many fronts with a predators appetite. But our story begins in a city ravaged by all this, with a small group sent on a simple mission that might result in copious amounts of antics.
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The city stood as calm as ever. Vibrant neon lit the garbage riddled street ends in the gloomy late hours of the night. Light droplets of water fell from the sky, the very same that had corroded the long forgotten walls of the towering buildings. The city had practically stood still for the last twenty years. Large steel beams and mesh was abundant amongst the cold concrete of the never finished projects of architects whom had long since left the city to rot. Shady figures passed by the streets where the craggy pavement created pools of polluted water reflecting the deceptively energetic spectrum the city created.
A few rather large landing pads as well as an airstrip created quite the bit of a gap in the concrete jungle that was the centrum of the city. Nearby there were a few sizable hangars, some of them stood unoccupied making their extensive openings look like malicious maws. Most pads were occupied by people either moving cargo from the back of ships or armed militia protecting those very people. Rusty pieces of scrap had been welded onto the elevated pads in order to patch large dents and depressions caused by the abnormally acidic rain that was the result of years of pollution. One of the pads stood empty with the exception of a single hooded figure sitting on the rusty fence outlining the platform. Sheltered by a rubber sheet suspended between a few metal pikes the figure sat in complete silence smoking a cheap brand cigarette. Although the person's identity remained masked by a dark colored hoodie and dirty tracksuit pants, it was clear they awaited someone.
OnyxMule