Wednesday, February 9, 2011


Disreputable and sparsely populated, Gilpoy is little more than a clandestine shanty-town cobbled together around the pararail terminal situated in the heart of an ancient, heavily eroded crater, one that pre-dates the massive terraforming of Riskail.

Gilpoy is not the kind of place one is likely to stay in for very long, but many people pass through the twisting alleys and precarious by-ways of this flea-speck out along the Western Ravine that runs along the edge of the Etched Plateau. It is a small, shabby and scabby little makeshift (and unregistered) settlement out in the middle of the cold-wastes deep in the midst of the Interstitial Jurisdictions between the Great Rift and the Southern Crater-Sea.

It is not the easiest of places to get to, but people do come here. They do not come to Gilpoy to get rich, though some manage to amass a great deal of illicit credit or other forms of contraband wealth. They do not come here to find fame, though some achieve an underground notoriety from competing in the games or playing in the pre-fab taverns. No one comes to Gilpoy who has someplace better to be.

Even the most scarred and hardened of the Pugilists who are no longer admitted on the legitimate underground circuit would be in the corporate Casino-Arenas if they weren't banned, de-listed, barred or under death sentences within various of the City States.

People come here to participate in the games, to fight in the contract arenas and the sand pits, the platforms and blade-lined trenches. Suppressor-fields knock out the personal nanonics of the contestants. Illicit dampeners, cobbled-together generators and dangerous prototype-devices stolen from the laboratories of various Insane Geniuses are used to fashion all sorts of bizarre conditions for the Arena. The environment within the dredged-out pits and trenches used as arenas in Gilpoy can change radically between each contest. Sometimes the pit is flooded with oxygenated hydrocarbons, other times it might be super-heated or excessively humid, or even coated with toxic sludge. Once, in a memorable and notorious contest the very walls of the pit itself were brought into a peculiar form of consciousness that took most of six hours for the combined champions of Gilpoy to finally put down once and for all. Though there are rumors that the pit might still be alive, after a fashion, and is scheming for a re-match of sorts.

Gilpoy is a festering den of iniquity, gambling and gladiatorial combat. Gilpoy is where you go to kill some time or if you don’t have anything better to do.


  1. It would be interesting to here more about the "sweet science" in Gilpoy, I think. What sort of rules are employed, and what sort of exotic modifications are common among fighters?

  2. Guess we'll be heading back to Gilpoy sooner rather than later. We heard that they had a really good blues band in one of the prefab liquor swilleries but they've long since left for better gigs.

    More on the Pugilists coming shortly. Weight class isn't nearly so useful as muscle mass index and metabolic function, and then there's all those mods...implants...surgeries...tweaks and whatnot that might or might not be added into the mix. Yeah. It gets ugly real quick. But that's okay. They've got robots, sterifoam and flamethrowers to clean everything real nice in-between matches...


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