Station Eternity.

Home to millions, the starport was a melting pot of different cultures and species. The year was 2478. Two hundred years ago technological advancement made it possible for humanity to reached out and begin to colonise the solar system. They advanced both further and faster than they had ever thought possible.

Reaching out beyond the solar system and the galaxy that contained Earth, it was not long before humankind started to discover that there were, in fact, other species inhabiting the universe. Contact was made, treaties were signed, and soon humanity was a member of the newly formed Galactic Coalition alongside the other founder members of that organisation.

The Daxalorn. Hailing from the home planet of Chenta, the Daxalorn are a race of venomous amphibians governed by a military dictatorship. Their home-world experiences extremes of temperature due to a highly elliptical orbit. They grow thick coats of fur in the winter months but shed them in the spring.

The Qeefassians, from Agrals 3. A race of scientists with large resonating chambers on the front of their heads, through which they speak and blue skin. TThe Qeefassians are very philosophical as a species.

The Piradians, hailing from Cardalia. A race of feathered humanoid aliens who have bony heads and three horns on the top of them. Their home-world is said to be a lush jungle paradise of sweltering heat.

The Isragarn. From the planet Bespeon, this race of pessimistic hermaphrodites speak a complex gestural language. Their ability to construct biological machines and use living spaceships are rivalled by none. Their claws are strong enough to open a can of peaches, which are, coincidentally, their favourite fruit.

Finally, the last of the council members, the Dochassons. Hailing from Agrabvinia 4, this race of proto-mammals use song to communicate. Their ships are enormous, with crews of several thousand individuals.

These six species, although forming the basis of the coalition, were by no means the only species aboard the Eternity. Home to countless species and countless millions, it was the place where the Galactic Coalition convened to discuss matters relating to the universe and make decisions on said matters. It was the central hub of trade between the species of the universe and was generally seen to be a forward thinking cosmopolitan space and trade hub.

Trade and crafts within Station Eternity was controlled by a collection of Guilds who oversaw the trade and commerce side of the station. Typically, any would-be entrepreneur had to purchase a license to be able to conduct their trade within the Station from the appropriate Guild. The original thinking behind it was that it would prevent any old riff-raff from setting up shop on the Station and that the craftsmen who did ply their trade would be competent at their profession. In practice, however, what it generated was a level of elitism on the station. To survive and prosper and make your trade, you had to have money, and you had to continue to make money in order to renew your license.

This, in turn, led to a division on Station Eternity. A division between the haves and the have-nots. And if you fell on the wrong side of the divide, all you have to look forward to was poverty and an uncertain existence with a fight for survival. Those unfortunates were often gathered in the slums, situated in the bowels of the station. Here petty crime, beatings and murders were rife. The executives and the security force of the station did not have the time or manpower to spare for beings they deemed as inconsequential.

Deeper still, Station Eternity had its seedy side. Stories of the brawls and murders in its innumerable bars were legendary, spreading all across the multiverse along with tales of the corruption that was said to lay at the stations heart. Rumours of organised gangs and triads based from within Station Eternity were rife, despite the Coalitions attempt to root out malcontents from within its depths. Some of the more vicious rumours in fact stated that the coalition members encouraged the more illicit activities occurring within the station, using the various gangs and factions as chess pieces on a board against the other species.

Whatever the truth of the tales, Station Eternity was certainly as dangerous as it was liberating.

And it was here, within Station Eternity that a tale of its own was beginning to unfold. A tale involving two friends who were soon to find themselves caught up in circumstances that would quickly spiral out of their control and ability to control......

The flash of neon light was dazzling. However, for Arran, the rapid, yet brief explosions of bright turquoise light were nothing more than an inconsequence. As was the heady smell of smoke and crushed opium that permeated the atmosphere in this place.

Turquoise was not the only colour that punctuated the dark, smoky ambience that the club sought to achieve. Its low-budget, fluorescent tubes passed for the most basic of lighting within the buildings cavernous interior. Periodically, explosions of yellow, orange, red and purple emanated from the dance floor to leave painful, garish silhouettes tattooed across Arran’s vision.

Synthesised, metallic beats that passed for music assaulted his ears. Techno Rock they called it. The club itself was known as “The Schooner”, and it was situated right in the heart of the Station Eternity.

Grunting in displeasure, Arran shook his head, his silvery brown locks jostling from the movement. Nursing a glass of something liquids in his right hand, he lifted it up to take a small swig as he slammed the glass back down on the back trestle table on which he sat.

Wiping his mouth with his hand, Arran glanced over to the side. Not too far away, in the corner of the level he sat on, there was what appeared to be a slip of a girl, notable with the shock of lavender hair on her head tied back in a ponytail. She appeared to be working on one of the speakers situated at the side, one that wasn’t pumping out more of the horrible music.

On the level below them, occasionally punctuated by flashes of neon light, shadowy forms could be seen silhouetted against the dance floor, waving their arms in typically uncoordinated movements, looking for all the words like the proverbial tin full of sardines.

Arran noticed a burly fellow with a mohawk glaring at him from across the other side of the table at him.

He sighed. He wasn’t sure if it was the garish attire he wore. The long, red trenchcoat he typically wore on nights out tended to net him all sorts of unwanted attention. But then, there was a darker part of him that revelled in the attention and the violence. Arran was many things....a random, unpredictable source of chaos.

He snorted at the intrusive fellow, "Look, if you don’t put your eyes back in where they belong, I’ll ram my size ten right up your backside so hard it’ll be coming out of your nose."

There was a wide variety of people’s teeming inside the Schooner tonight, and the atmosphere was ripe for violence. Apart from the rough looking individuals sitting in a group just opposite the two (of which Mohawk Man was only one), there were representatives from all sorts of races around. There was an illithari dancing on the floor, its tentacles flopping up and down from the side of its face and chin. On the podiums, dancing within two cages elevated from the central, sparkling dance floor were two miniature, green-skinned ladies.

Goblynne’s.

Sitting just further up from him, sniffing as he drank a particularly vile-looking steaming green brew was a fellow with a horse’s head.

A G’nool.

Violence was in the air, he could smell it. And whether it be the rough looking group that continued to glare at him or not, it was only a matter of time before the alcohol took its toll and the place erupted in a brawl.