"More interested in the nightlife, huh?" The Player shrugs, looking off toward the warehouse. "That isn't exactly my place, but I can get someone to take you around." She pushes off of the fountain and starts that way, hard bootheels ringing on the cobbles.
As you close in on the warehouse, you begin to feel a strange vibration in the ground, an inaudible hum that permeates the street. The Player leads you around the corner where all the youngsters went, and as you trail your hand along the wall you feel it again. However, there is no sound.
The Player pauses before a boarded-up door, gesturing to it. "That's the entrance...the boards are for show," she says, then grins. "As for the inside, I'd advise you to cover your ears until you get used to it." A piece of slate hangs from two hooks next to the door, the only real evidence that this is the entrance; chalked on its face are
Doomcrier Jander's Machine Girlie Journey's End [Epilogue] by Adria Fortrin The Battle of Disappearing Valley by Khgarloe'rl She hooks her fingers in a gap between a few boards and tugs, and the whole mass of door and wood swings open lightly. On the sill, a flicker of arcane blue radiance traces mindboggling runes then vanishes. Sound begins to filter in, slowly growing louder as you stand there; inside, lights strobe and flash in the darkness, and hundreds of glowing specks drift in a sea of people. You hesitate, then step in.
The music crashes down upon you as soon as you cross the threshold, thunderous even from the back of the building. You start to drift in, entranced by the waves of sound, only to find your way momentarily barred by a mousy-haired man and a huge, red-skinned ogre, both wearing dark shirts with the raven-and-chesspiece symbol emblazoned in white. The man looks you over critically, his fingers fluttering in strange patterns, then nods to the ogre and they step back to let you pass.
The entrance area branches off to either side, where tables are bolted to the walls and crowded by youngsters taking a breather. Right in front of you, three broad steps lead down to the packed dancefloor, which has been built into the ground to keep the wild crowd from crashing into the people at the tables and at the bar, which dominates a raised area against the wall to your right. To your far left and opposite the bar is the stage, also raised and currently the center of attention; you can barely hear the singer over the growl of the music, but she is stalking along the edge of the stage anyway, taunting and toying with the crowd in the golden light.
A grip on your arm draws your attention away from the stage; the Player grins and gestures toward a staircase beyond the tables, barely visible in the swirling light. "Come on," she shouts over the din, "let me introduce you to my friend!" Then she lets go of you and starts away.
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