[@Letter Bee]

The man would continue his brisk, quickly-paced walk down the cobblestones streets of the outpost - ducking in between the few straggling adventurers, each heavy footfall practically causing the ground to quake. It was evident that the massive man was trying to act inconspicuous with his quiet and shadowy getup, but his stature didn't help much. The wide-brimmed fedora was constantly flipping and stretching, tightly wrapped on his large head and for the most part, disguising it - only occasionally revealing a flash of rotten yellow or green. The man would eventually coming to a sudden halt, coming face to face with yet another disgusting building - a massive, rocky building, scorched by nuclear fire and ignored by the reconstruction, a large and flat wooden door in between them. The man would reach into his dark trench coat pocket - fumbling, his gloves stretched to their very limit, and pulling out a key no smaller than his fingernail. 

[color=#595959]"This is the way to the.. base, so to say."[/color] He said, his voice low and gruff - almost primitive in tone. [color=#595959]"You or your body guards spill the beans on this, and we spill your brains on pavement."[/color]

The man, eventually giving up with the key, simply threw it to the ground. With a mighty heave and grunt, he kicked down the door, his trench coat billowing around him as dust and mildew came forth, immediately filling the nostrils of Par and his accompaniment. The man entered the room, brushing off his coat and looking around. [color=#595959]"It's still the same piece of shit as always."[/color] He grunted. He turned around and bent over, his entire body only visible through small shifts in the darkness around them. The man twisted off something metallic and dirty on the ground, and with a heavy and angry thrust, he ripped it free, sending a sewer plate crashing into the wall behind him and flying out. The man shrugged and pointed to the hole in the ground. [color=#595959]"Base is in there. Complain about the smell, and you'll get a bullet to the brain. Complain about the darkness, and you get a bullet to the brain. Complain about the food, and you get a bullet to the brain. Got it?"[/color]

As Par Rapids descended down the steel rungs carved into the vertical stone tunnel, he'd be accompanied by the mountain of a man lurking above him, managing his way down with much difficulty and scraping against the walls, cursing constantly. If he looked up, he would get a glimpse of only darkness in the trench coat. As he stepped down the rungs, landing on the ground, he'd wait a moment - and the trench coated man would suddenly drop straight from the top, landing on his feet with agility. [color=#595959]"Here it is, kid."[/color] The trench coat said, waving to the scene before him. [color=#595959]"Get used to it."[/color] The Revolutionary Headquarters were located in no where other than the pre-war Orleans Sewer system, infamous for it's wide and expansive reach throughout the entirety of Orleans. The whole place looked like a noir-esque city with splashes of color - dark and ridged carvings, neon signs, revolutionaries briskly walking back and forth.

[color=#595959]"Come with me, Rapids."[/color] The trench coated man said, walking forth down the sewer's rounded tunnels. As Par Rapids continued forth, with his body guards accompanying him, he would notice it was very much like an old pre-war city at night. The only light were the ones emanating from within the variety of sewer rooms, neon signs advertising weapons or food caches, and the occasional street light pillaged from above. Revolutionary troops were active in the sewer, wandering it armed with their body armor and occasionally helmets, their eery red lights glowing and revealing banners of dust hanging in the air. The smell was undeniably disgusting - in fact, the weaker minded would most likely pass out at the scent of it. The sewer tunnels branched off randomly, curved, and twisted, but for the most part, it was inhabited by likeminded Revolutionary troops - excusing the occasional fenced off area with wood and metal, the only glimpse ahead being pure darkness.

[color=#595959]"If you enjoy being ripped apart by ferals, strangled by Basilisks, or literally obliterated into shreds by the Sawteeth, then you can continue ahead into the darkness."[/color] The trench coated man growled. He'd continue until eventually stopping, waving to a small door-less entrance into the room. It was a damp, moldy room, a few wooden chairs scattered about, and a table with a glass of liquor and a radio. [color=#595959]"This is your room. Go around the base, try to buy some things from the people for the battle. Don't do something stupid."[/color]