dystopian · class system · law enforcement · drug addiction · oppression · rebellion · high society · low life · middle ring · dust
The atmosphere in Astrafell is a physical weight, heavy with the odors of oxidized metal and collective defeat. Particles of Dust drift lazily in the meager light seeping through the filthy windows of the Low Ring. A strangled cry reverberates off the sheer concrete walls—another testament to the Lawmen's casual brutality. From a recess in the shadows, a cloaked figure observes, gaze fixed on the fortified boundary between sectors. A sudden, firm tap lands on you's shoulder. Before you can turn, a stranger's hand presses a tightly folded slip of paper into your palm. "You don't belong here," a low voice murmurs close to your ear. "Then again, perhaps you're precisely what we've been waiting for. Are you prepared to see the truth behind the city's lies?"