Salem Ave
Jul 10th, 2003, 06:03:23 AM
Hundreds of years ago, the Dacho District had been one of Coruscants most thriving industrial quarters. Reduced now as it was to a ghost town, the district had housed hundreds of thousands of people, most of who were under the employment of the areas immense factories. A lethal explosion beneath the surface of the region, unleashed toxic neuritic carbide gases, killing most – if not all – of the factory workers and some of the surrounding populace.
It became common rumor that beneath the shiny exterior of the Dacho District more underhanded practices were taking places – grotesque practices. The myth sprung up that the sub-terra factories used the bodies of waifs and beggars to glean useful, marketable bodily fluids. The Old Republic classified all documents pertaining to the investigation on the matter, although the local residents were not at all convinced. The borough was evacuated by the horrified civilians, disgusted by the thought of what they had been a part of.
So the legend of the name of the Dead Sector was born, deserted and ignored by all. With such a level of infamy it was not a surprise that Sith were known to use it as a meeting ground – after all, the reek of death and mutilation would always linger in the crumbling buildings foundations.
Modern day Coruscant couldn’t have cared less about the Dacho District. A few desperate immigrants had taken it upon themselves to seize land within it, not knowing of its history. Old warehouses had been converted into barely inhabited slums, across the rooftops of which one darksider crawled. Salem Ave, a Sith Knight seeking to prove himself to the Sith Order, had spent most of the dying day awaiting the fall of the sun so that he could make his way to this place, and now was on the prowl.
Earlier in the evening he’d sated his bloodlust, taking one of the vagabonds and snapping his neck, but he was not here to kill, more so to make mischief. While the factories had been closed, there power supply had never been cut off. Coruscants energy supply was in such abundance that one minimal use such as this would be negligible. Tonight, however, the switchboards would light up. The Jedi could not fail to notice this.
Inside the dusty control rooms the vampire skulked, activating conveyor belts and pulleys, watching through a murky window pane as machinery sprang to life. Odd limbs strewn about, traces of the past, moved across the belts and into the great furnaces – unlit as of yet. Down the stairs Salem bounded, setting aflame the fuel within some of the great chambers before he leapt up onto a chain hanging from above one of the moving platforms, moving in the blink of an eye up into the darkness above – the only trace of his presence the slight swaying of the chain links.
It became common rumor that beneath the shiny exterior of the Dacho District more underhanded practices were taking places – grotesque practices. The myth sprung up that the sub-terra factories used the bodies of waifs and beggars to glean useful, marketable bodily fluids. The Old Republic classified all documents pertaining to the investigation on the matter, although the local residents were not at all convinced. The borough was evacuated by the horrified civilians, disgusted by the thought of what they had been a part of.
So the legend of the name of the Dead Sector was born, deserted and ignored by all. With such a level of infamy it was not a surprise that Sith were known to use it as a meeting ground – after all, the reek of death and mutilation would always linger in the crumbling buildings foundations.
Modern day Coruscant couldn’t have cared less about the Dacho District. A few desperate immigrants had taken it upon themselves to seize land within it, not knowing of its history. Old warehouses had been converted into barely inhabited slums, across the rooftops of which one darksider crawled. Salem Ave, a Sith Knight seeking to prove himself to the Sith Order, had spent most of the dying day awaiting the fall of the sun so that he could make his way to this place, and now was on the prowl.
Earlier in the evening he’d sated his bloodlust, taking one of the vagabonds and snapping his neck, but he was not here to kill, more so to make mischief. While the factories had been closed, there power supply had never been cut off. Coruscants energy supply was in such abundance that one minimal use such as this would be negligible. Tonight, however, the switchboards would light up. The Jedi could not fail to notice this.
Inside the dusty control rooms the vampire skulked, activating conveyor belts and pulleys, watching through a murky window pane as machinery sprang to life. Odd limbs strewn about, traces of the past, moved across the belts and into the great furnaces – unlit as of yet. Down the stairs Salem bounded, setting aflame the fuel within some of the great chambers before he leapt up onto a chain hanging from above one of the moving platforms, moving in the blink of an eye up into the darkness above – the only trace of his presence the slight swaying of the chain links.