Private The Devil's Dance Floor

[Darth Moskvin]

The Devil's Dance Floor

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -​

On the planet of Zakuul, deep in the dark and treacherous Endless Swamp, rests a large sized building, not quite a facility and not quite a place, but a structure-built years ago by unknown architects. The purpose of this mysterious edifice has eluded all that bore witness, framing countless theories, conspiracies, and rumors to its actual function. The construct, standing nearly thirty-five feet in height, a width of twenty-three feet, and a length around forty-one feet, is ebony color with a gleaming sheen that is reflected on its outer walls when in contact with sunlight or highly illuminating devices. There are no windows on the two-story building, preventing curious eyes from looking in as well as denying eyes from looking out into the swamp.

Inside, the building is vacant. There are no offices or cubicles that could house working individuals. There are no factory machines or computer outlets in which through utilization could fabricate products for profit. There are several bulbs from which lighting could be dispensed on the ceilings on both the top and bottom sections, two large rectangular counters with a reddish hue that displayed an elaborate countertop situated near the back walls and ran the length of the room, one on top and one on the bottom of the floors. Like the counters, there are two large metal doors behind each counter, locked when not in use, that is a refrigeration system to support each floor. Everything about the building is puzzling, but it was rarely talked about by the locals, and even less visited by them. Those that lived within the proximity of the structure spoke of devilish and ghoulish things, most believing the place was haunted.

But one night out of the year, under a full moon the building was alive with activity. For one year, a gala was thrown, hosted by an unknown sponsor. The guests were unique, different from the normalcy of the galaxy's citizens. For on this one night, the building anchored a gathering of fiends, phantoms, and spooks. For it was haunted, as the locals believed, for witches, vampires, werewolves, and other species of the supernatural community gathered in peace, all differences aside, to enjoy this glorifying night.

Under other circumstances, I would lay waste to any vampire that crossed my path, minus my betrothed. I hated my kind, equally for the varying types of the vampiric species, for the one singular reason I was forced into vampirism when I was nineteen, robbed of a life I would never know: stolen from me all the hopes and dreams of a young girl's heart. I've lost count of the years I cursed the galaxy with my wretched form, though over the years I've embraced who and what I am, using my supernatural gifts for beneficial purposes, though my hatred never subsided. Other creatures, those that stalk and creep, I have no concerns with less they foolishly challenge me; and I love witches, being one from a Nighsister Coven, though even they can be rather annoying in their tedious aptitudes and long-winded discussions about spells, hexes, and magical infusions.

But truthfully, and not under false pretense, I rather enjoyed this one night. The one night that I can escape the trials and tribulations of the galaxy, the politics and the war mongering. I've come to this gathering for as long as I could remember, and yet, I still found no clue as to who hosts such a grandiose setting; however, I never fully investigated, sometimes it's far easier to accept what your eyes see than dig deep into tombs to unearth the corpses of mysteries. And I never partake of those spirits and exotic foods and the filled vials of blood that reside behind those metal doors, served to the patrons by the tending bartenders, in which can only be consumed by the likes of this lot. I prefer fresh blood, or as my vampire species refers as Anima. When I died and resurrected as a Sangnir, my body went under a transformation that now has delegated my digestive system as dysfunctional; for solid food and liquidized fluids outside Anima I can no longer eat.

To add a little jazz and pep for this particular collection of visitants, our gracious benefactor employed musical talents in the form of DJs, to bash out the tunes that rock the two floors. It always amazes me to watch the undead hit the floor and shake their bodies to the rhythmic beats of the music. I guess it's only fitting that this building had been aptly named "The Devil's Dance Floor."

Salty Warren

 

[Salty Warren]

My ship lands at the assigned spot in the hangar of the structure where I was summoned. I don't know why I'm here, but I came because I'm curious to discover what hides in this kind of environment.


For my outfit, I wear my black and gold attire with the insignia of my clan clearly visible on my shoulder. As for equipment, I have my lightsaber and traditional gear. I walk with a slow pace. I can smell strange odors around me, notably that of blood; there are living species around here, and not just a few. As far as I can remember, I have always been a vampire, and for me, consuming food from humans is more a hobby than anything else. I can only imagine the taste it would have.


My main sustenance is blood, and the higher the quality of the blood, the more effectively it nourishes me. Moreover, it can also make me stronger. That's why I generally choose healthy subjects when I want to eat.


Those who are bitten by me usually feel a good dose of euphoria during the bite; it helps them relax and allows me to drain all the blood I want.

I arrive at what seems to be a reception with strange metallic doors behind. I position myself in front of the receptionist, who stands behind the counter, and I present an invitation card.

"Hellooow, my name is Salty Warren. Good evening I was requested and I am here by appointment. Here is my invitation card. "


I place it on the counter and now I wait quietly for the response from what seems to be my receptionist. I don't have many belongings on me, just my travel bag and my personal effects, including my own lightsaber. I stand upright, displaying a small mysterious smile on my face, it's hard to discern my intentions right away. If I can trade new slaves for my domain, it would provide me with fresh blood.

Darth Moskvin

 

[Darth Moskvin]

The Devil's Dance Floor

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -​

Salty Warren

I sat at a wooden table, painted red in color and with unique symbols in gold laced into the woodwork, whilst Archie, my feathered fowl, stood perched on the table, gently swaying to the music. I had chosen this table, back in a shadowy corner where the strobing lights barely encroached, for comfort and observation. I prefer to keep my company small, for I discovered years ago that I had no aspirations for conversations, less required to participate unwillingly. Also, I chose this table for its viewing advantages. I could see who enters and who leaves, without showing any interest. There was only one rule on this single night of debauchery, no killing. So, my properly chosen seating was for curiosity purposes.

Whilst Archie got more into the lullaby of soothing music, his body contorting this way and that way, I watched the door, seeing if any new faces would appear this evening. Though this was a night of relaxation and unwinding for our kind, there was a lot of business conducted between the fiends; pacts formed, promises made, trading and bartering employed. I have a substantial number of contracts in place with certain seedy organizations, where I provide services for them and in return they provide me with living bodies; though not all the bodies are grade-A surplus, but they don't need to be for the cruel intentions that awaits these hapless tinker toys.

Tonight, I was seeking to institute a pact with another vampire, for my surplus of living entities would be my bargaining chip. I had amassed quite a collection of living bodies, and though financially they are not a burden, I required something in return.

 

[Salty Warren]

I arrive at the venue where the party is in full swing, as I expected. I head to what looks like a mini bar.

I order a whiskey to give off a festive vibe and blend into the crowd more effectively.

I then calmly take a seat on an armchair and begin to observe the attendees—there's a bit of everything.

Nobles, middle-class people, and people like me who stand out a bit from the crowd.

I spot a woman in the distance seated at an ornate table with golden patterns. I think she might have noticed me too, since we aren't exactly blending in with our respective auras. She emits something strange compared to the others; she's the one who catches my attention the most.

I decide to get up from my armchair and naturally make my way to the back of the room where she is. Along the way, I grab a glass to offer her when I reach her.

I stand in front of her at the other end of the table, slide the glass toward her that I had picked up for her, and ask, "May I join you? Of all the people here, you are the most intriguing."

I speak straightforwardly as I don't like to waste time, and I assume she doesn't either. I raise my glass towards her and, upon receiving permission, I take a seat across from her at the table and place my glass on it.

"Are you open to negotiation? It's with you that I would like to do business."

I adopt a casual posture, resting my elbow on the table and my hand against my face to support my head. I've decided to stay as usual. I'm curious to see if there might be something here that could suit me.

Darth Moskvin

 

[Darth Moskvin]

The Devil's Dance Floor

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -​

Salty Warren

Through all the sensations flooding about the scene, I easily picked up hers, and watched as she walked toward me, navigating through dancers, talking crowds, and the occasional pick-up line from desperate individuals. I gestured toward the open chair with my left hand saying, "Please, I would love to have company tonight." Normally I prefer isolation, allowed to fall lost in my thoughts without the occasional disruption from conversational speeches.

The girl, who smelled of vampire but not that of my kind, had a ghostly beauty to her. She was young, not long for the undead I could only surmise, with long flowing blonde hair and mesmerizing eyes. I wondered how many times those gem-like eyes lured men to their deaths? Her body, shaped athletically, though with her garments it was inaccurate to chance how athletic she was, also appeared much shorter than me. I already hated her, not because she was a vampire, but she was a beautiful creature, whereas I was a fiend, a nightmarish ghoul, though beautiful in my own demented way.

"I'm always open to do business, those of our makings can't survive in such a turmoil without collectively aiding one another. What is it are you offering?"

 

[Salty Warren]

Without beating around the bush, as she scrutinizes me, I literally feel her gaze from head to toe. I place something on the table and slide it toward her. If she opens the leather purse, she'll see that it contains enough to buy several slaves, and good ones at that. I need fresh blood. All these foreign delicacies are insufficient to nourish me. At best, they can provide a bit of energy, but that's all.

" Well... I... Salty want... I'll be straightforward I need to buy some slaves, and the bag I've given you contains my payment."

In the bag I gave her, there are several high-quality gemstones with substantial carat weight, easily worth 5 or 6 lives, whether they be humans or something else.

She might take the whole lot or pick out the stones that seem prettiest to her; either way, I am confident in my offer. I take a sip from my glass and set it back on the table.

This girl exudes a scent so particular to our kind, yet there's a slight difference; I, too, can pick up on this subtlety.

After all, my goal is to create a kingdom filled with slaves where I will no longer need to hunt to meet my basic needs. I've certainly considered partnering with laboratories, but that's far more complicated to negotiate. There are standards to uphold, the 'food' shouldn't undergo mistreatment, maintenance costs are high frankly, it's not a viable economic model for me, they're too stringent with all their standards.

Negotiating with a vampire is much more direct and quick since we share the same concerns.

"So, what do you say about these gemstones? I believe I've caught your attention, have I not?"

I, too, am scrutinizing her, but not as overtly I wouldn't want to disrespect her or insult her in any way. That would put me at a disadvantage in the negotiations, or she might decide to raise her price, which wouldn't suit me at all.

Darth Moskvin