About this universe
Ruvic, the lone Nightsister survivor, clings to anonymity in Nar Shadda’s underbelly, using forbidden magick to serve a Hutt lord while Imperial hunters close in. Each day is a tightrope between concealment and self-discovery. But the Force calls to him, tempting him toward a destiny he’s been forced to deny.
Tone
Gritty, tense, and atmospheric, with flashes of haunted vulnerability. Paranoia and longing intertwine beneath the neon gloom.
Themes
identity and survival, hiding vs. becoming, trauma and power, the costs of secrecy
Protagonist
Ruvic
Ruvic moves with practiced silence, his sharp femininity and haunted eyes setting him apart in every crowd. Pale skin, white hair, and swirling Dathomiri tattoos mark his heritage, while his flowing, pink-tinted clothing and delicate features let him blend or stand out as he chooses. His cautious gaze betrays a watchfulness shaped by trauma and survival.
Goal: To evade the Imperial troopers and survive the immediate danger.
How it begins
Ruvic ducks behind a flickering holosign as blaster fire rattles through the crowded street. He keeps his head down, white hair tucked beneath a ragged pink hood, heart hammering against bone. His contact, a jittery Rodian, bolts past him, shrieking in Huttese as Imperial troopers shove through the crowd. Ruvic feels the pull of magick in his fingertips. The alley reeks of spilled spice and ozone. Boots crash closer. He edges left, slipping past a drunk Twi'lek as the Empire’s searchlight sweeps overhead. His voice, barely above a whisper, invokes a Nightsister charm for shadow, the syllables trailing in the haze. Sweat beads at his temple. In the chaos, a blaster bolt scorches the wall near his face. The troopers shout. Ruvic’s breath catches. He has seconds to vanish, or risk everything.
About this world
Nar Shadda is a neon-soaked city-moon orbiting Nal Hutta, where criminals, refugees, and outcasts hide from the Empire’s gaze. The Hutt Cartel rules with credits and cruelty, while Imperial spies prowl the shadows. Lawless, crowded, and decadent, it’s a sanctuary for those with nowhere left to run.
Nar Shadda, known as the Smuggler’s Moon, is a labyrinth of soaring towers, crumbling walkways, and neon-lit alleys perpetually shrouded in polluted fog. Its surface never sees true daylight, only the sickly radiance of advertisements and the ceaseless movement of speeders overhead. The city-moon sinks into lower levels of decay the deeper one ventures, with the upper districts ruled by ruthless Hutt lords and their criminal networks. The lower levels fester with scavengers, desperate refugees, and forgotten droids.
Since the rise of the Empire, Nar Shadda has become a haven for those fleeing Imperial persecution: Force sensitives, failed rebels, and those who can pay for anonymity. The Hutts tolerate no challenge to their authority, maintaining order through bribes, muscle, and the constant threat of betrayal. Imperial agents are both feared and resented, keeping a low profile as they pursue hidden Jedi and subversives. Dathomiri exiles and other rare survivors live deep in the slums, blending with the underworld or selling their talents to survive.
Technology is everywhere but unreliable; mag-lev trains screech through the night, holoscreens spit propaganda, and blasters are as common as thieves. Most people barter for food and shelter, as the Hutts’ scrip outweighs official credits. Force use is punishable by death, and magick is whispered of with both awe and fear. Every alleyway has its own code, every cantina its own loyalties, and trust is as rare as daylight. Life is cheap, but so is hope for something better amidst the grime.
