New Vance City

Deep within the shadowed lower levels of Skullcrack Hold lie the Holding Cells—cramped, grim cages where the Raiders imprison those caught in their violent raids or those who cross the brutal pack leadership. These cells are not built for comfort or mercy, but for control through fear and suffering. The air is thick with the stench of sweat, rot, and decay, mingled with the metallic tang of blood and rusted iron. Prisoners—both valuable hostages and expendable captives—are squeezed into damp, corroded cells where sickness spreads unchecked. Interrogations here are brutal affairs, conducted under flickering propane lamps, punctuated by screams and the scraping of makeshift tools. Rumors say some captives vanish in the dead of night, dragged into the darkness beneath the Hold for rites or ransom. To be thrown into these cells is to face slow death or savage bargains in a city where survival is won by cruelty and cunning.

The Holding Cells stretch beneath the fractured steel and concrete skeleton of Skullcrack Hold like a festering wound. Narrow corridors of cracked, soot-blackened stone wind between iron-barred cages, their rust flaking and bubbling under layers of grime. The bars groan with age and neglect, some bent by desperate hands, others stained with old blood and smeared soot. Flickering propane lamps hang from corroded hooks, casting long, jittery shadows that dance on cracked walls stained by streaks of dried sweat and tears. Pools of stagnant water puddle on the uneven floor, reflecting the gaunt, haunted faces of prisoners behind bars. Scrawled warnings, crude tally marks, and desperate pleas are etched into the stone and metal—messages from those who’ve been forgotten. The scent is overwhelming: a mix of mildew, sweat, rust, and the faint but unmistakable odor of decay, intensified by the muffled sounds of broken chains and whispered threats.