Crimson Hollow
Welcome to the bleeding edge of the Grid. Where the code rots and the shadows breathe. Under the heavy, suffocating glow of the crimson moon, the carnival risez from the scrap and steel. This izn't a place for the weak. The rusted gates are open, and the Houze demands an audience.
The Ringmaster
He stands at the center of the madness, clad in absolute, light-devouring black. No face, only presence. The Ringmaster orchestrates the chaos of the Hollow Grid, a silent conductor of the macabre. With every crack of his unseen whip, the neon flickers and reality bends to his will.
The Wicked Clownz
Lurking just past the periphery of the crimson light, they wait. Twisted reflections, grinning through cracked greasepaint and fractured data. The wicked clownz are the foot soldiers of this freakshow, thriving on the fear that pumps through the veins of Crimson Hollow. They do not juggle; they hunt.
Operations
The Curators Grin
Album: The Dark Eclipse Carnival