In the years following the Time of Rifts, Larsen was the site of a small family band of survivors, the Larsens. Set in easily-defended terrain, generations of scarred, ornery, and wilderness-wise men and women permitted the homestead to grow. Eventually the Larsens began to trade with other survivors, and some outsiders came there to live. In time, the sprawling homestead became a village. Too far from any major power, Larsen was always a wild, rough town, where there was only one kind of drink for sale. Wilderness travellers favoured it as a place to buy provisions and ammo, but watched their backs.

More than a decade ago, a neuron beast by the name of Rafm chanced along and decided the place would make a fine stronghold. His rise to power there was short, brutal, and resulted in numerous deaths. Only the hideous examples he set prevented the entire population from fleeing to take their chances in the wastelands. They comforted themselves with the knowledge that he didn't want them dead, he just wanted to run things and make a profit.

And so it was. But Rafm had plans to "improve" the town and its people. His henchmen enforced new laws and discarded old ones. They built and tore down, hired and fired, and lured workers from other settlements. In a few years, the place began to be known as a place to obtain any kind of recreation or pleasure, refined or otherwise. A thriving industry catering to visiting bandits, mercenaries, and blackhearts of every kind grew like some kind of cancer. The town's original inhabitants joined the brigands, sought oblivion, or were crushed.

The town is now much larger, and much more prosperous, than it was. However, it also much more dangerous. In addition, the prosperity largely belongs to the strong and the merciless.

The region is largely wilderness, with frequent monsters, and a few hardy souls living in fortified homesteads or villages, some dominated by cruel rulers. Only 150 km distant is a region which suffers from constant fighting and strife between rival towns, and consequently there is a lot of work for mercs in the region. These mercs make a continous trickle into and out of the town for R n' R.

Larsen's Gate or "the Gate" is an outpost of the town at the base of the hills among which Larsen nestles. It serves as the lookout post, inspection site, front line, locker room, what have you. Comprising a few dozen squalid huts, some open strongpoints built of local stone (but lined with MDC ferrocrete), and a haphazard guard tower, the place is not impressive.

The rules for entry are simple: $1000 in cash or D10x$100+$1500 worth of trade goods. Visitors are warned to stay no longer than one week. Applications for residency are handled in the town proper by the "Mayor's Office". When the entry fee is paid, the visitor is secretly x-rayed and an image of their facial bone structure and teeth used for records. Vehicles and robots must be left here, but personal MD armour and weapons are permitted. There's a single bar with steep prices here (Gavagans').

The gate garrison comprises (on duty at any time) a psi-stalker, 1D4-1 other psychics, 1D3 magicians, a hatchling dragon, 1D4 FC borgs, and 1D4 crazies or juicers, plus 15 grunts and 2 PA pilots in HSC armour. Each of the strongpoints (4, each MD 120, P 40) contains 2 soldiers and a 20mm AC or RG-3 railgun. The guard tower itself mounts a Komodo tank turret at the top, a 4-tube mini-missile launchers and 3 Sterling C-1 Neon heavy lasers scattered about the wall. Typical gear is Budget Enclosed or UM armour and L-20 pulse rifles or Havocs for the borgs.

Larsen has a skirt of cultivated land, like all towns. This extends in a patchwork among the steep-sided, rocky hills out to a maximum of 10 km. There are numerous skeletal metal watchtowers, which are topped with optic sensors and a remotely-operated Fujimatsu variable laser rifle (50 MD, +2 strike), placed to detect both intruders and deter defectors. The towers are monitored and operated by soldiers in the Arsenal, in Larsen proper. The roughness of the local terrain provides several possible avenues of unseen approach, but these are mined (mixture of proximity and seismic mines, D6x10 MD to 3m radius). Patrols of D4+1 guards pass at irregular intervals, and they encourage wanderers to enter Larsen via the Gate (their idea of encouragement is to open fire, but not pursue). The river and the fields provide sufficient water and food for the town and some trade.

The township itself has a population of perhaps 3,500. Half or more are devoted to services for visitors, including bars, pit-fights, brothels, flop houses, equipment traders, drug retailers, chop-shops, and the like. More refined services, such as mail couriers, scribes etc. are harder to find. Because of the entry fee and limited time, many base-quality services are "complimentary" (i.e. beer, dormitory beds, and oil changes). The town survives on its service industries, supporting and relaxing the evil types who eagerly seek what it has to offer.

The people welcome outsiders as a source of funds - any who don't have long since been crushed. A lot of trade goes on, not too much of it in technology (the local tech is early 20th-century, except for a few exceptions owned by entrepreneurs, and imported military hardware). There's a lot of money to be made, if you have a strong stomach. There is a slave trade and a slave market. Slaves are not any specific race; offenders against the few laws might be made slaves (i.e. overstaying, ending up in debt, etc.) or prisoners or slaves dragged into the town can be sold as slaves. Magicians are not very common, but are an important part of life in the town, and are respected. Psychic powers are as common as elsewhere, about 25% of the population is at least a minor psychic.

The population might be described as two parts crazed pleasure-seekers, one part parasites and scum, and one part human wreckage, with a sprinkling of demons, cyber-snatchers, vampires, and overlords thrown in. There is no organised racism, as the town's population is too mongrelised or brutalised or worldly to view members of a single race as worse than others.

The place exists purely as a toy for Rafm, who derives emotional nourishment from the wide range and strength of the emotions given off by the inhabitants. The only law is his will, and this basically extends to not ruining business or killing his direct employees. Otherwise, the only law is that of strength. Violence is minimised only by having strength, or strong friends. There is no crime per se - but then there are few laws to break. Protection from theft or violence comes from being strong or having a strong protector, such as one of Rafm's minions or the beast himself.

The local military are mercenaries hired to garrison the place and keep the peace. Contracts are usually open-ended, and can be resigned (unless an emergency is occurring) at short notice, or terminated at short notice. Only the toughest or dumbest mercs hire on, though, since sometimes their Simvan or Brodkil "allies" forget that some of the "little guys" are on their side. The violence used to keep order makes the Foreign Legion look like limp lettuce.

Power is supplied by a TW power plant. The magician who built it disappeared after his last audience with Rafm.

Bob's Beershed. A typical drinking establishment, comprising a large, relatively thin-walled above-ground structure and an equally large, heavily-constructed underground area. The above-ground building is corrugated iron, with the interior divided by 6m-high curtains of industrial plastic (cutting through one, or sliding under, is easy). The decoration is colonist-industrial, with lots of rusted cast iron, piping and bolted rough-cut wood. There's about 600 square meters of floor space. Beer is free, but pretty average; a bitter ale and a stout are $2 each, local whiskey $5. Downstairs is a gambling establishment, with one room for roulette, craps, and the like, another for blackjack and poker, and a third plush room for high-stakes poker and occasional games of heavily-wagered Russian roulette. The roulette is rigged, the others clean, though the card games are dangerous (several locals, and Bob, are sharks). Unlike the upstairs structure, the construction of the lower floor is MDC, so combats won't bring the roof down. Bob, a bearded, bloated, blotchy-skinned man, is actually a cold-hearted diabolist (5th level). He employs several competent barmen, nearly a dozen scantily clad barmaids, and four arm-breakers: a brodkil, a dragonoid (Aliens Unlimited), an orc partial-conversion borg, and a burster. One is on duty upstairs, another downstairs, and the others are always within calling during business hours. It's not good to pass out or be knocked out here; the thugs will toss you out back, where the best that could happen is being robbed, and the worst being snagged by a wild vampire, wild psi-stalker or cyber-snatch gang.

The House of Belle. The best of several local brothels, the place looks like a 3-storey Victorian house, complete with curtains, garden, and picket fence. A beautiful hostess is always on hand to greet new arrivals and seat them in the parlour for refreshments, before introductions can be made. Several of the rooms (and part of the structure) of the house are MD under SDC cladding, so that a major firefight shouldn't level the place or penetrate the "staff only" rooms. Note that the decor is impeccable, but that dirty visitors are not discouraged, only requested (if uncouth) to mind their manners. Refreshments are a variety of teas and coffees ($5) or wine ($10), though absinthe ($25) and stimulant-laced sarsparilla ($50) are also available. The hostesses (about 10 are employed) are all beautiful (PB 10+3D4) and depraved beneath their refined exteriors. Several are d-bees or mutant animals. Company costs $200 to several thousand or more, depending on your imagination. Belle herself doesn't work, only manages, and is rarely seen. She's a secondary vampire, and with her companion, an Incuborg-model cyborg, she handles rowdy customers herself. Belle is one of Comanche's informers.

The Factory. An industrial workshop specialising in vehicle repairs, upgrades, and maintenance. Armed vehicles are escorted from the Gate by special arrangement, and sent back the same way. The place is run by Kate, an 8th-level operator, who employs a half-dozen expert techs and a dozen or more assistants, nearly all of whom are handy with weapons. Three rarely-used machine chassis conceal TCS Type-E GP combat robots, armed with ADI RMk.4 ion rifles (merely a precaution). Prices are average, and the Factory can also do maintenance on borgs (and offers both oil changes, which are complimentary, and oil baths ($200); molting is not available). Any repair can be done here, including fusion plant work, but specialist parts (i.e. heavy railguns, esoteric computer chips) may not be available. Kate's specialty is secretly installing one or more "disabler" chips into vehicles put in for other work. On receipt of a coded signal the chips will disable weapons, stop the vehicle and unlock the pilot's hatch. Sometimes, to good friends or for high prices, she will sell the codes for specific vehicles. A full list of codes is kept by her; Rafm knows of it and will use it when necessary.

The Glory Hole/Cedric's Cybermart/Boot Hill. These three establishments back onto each other, and all are owned by Wes (something of a local open secret). The Glory Hole is the largest, a pit-fighting arena, with an adjacent bar and bleacher, box ($50) or ground-level seating ($500). Beer is free, local whiskey is $5, but the popular drink here is Loser's Blood, a cocktail of chilli-tomato sauce and neat alcohol with bubbles in it ($8). Fights take place 6 nights a week; Mondays is amateur night, Tuesdays and Thursdays is regular teams, Wednesdays and Fridays local trash or criminals, Saturdays is always something special. The place is a good one to meet violent sorts. The furniture is all split logs or bolted iron, the bar counter and walls stone blocks. Most of the local sellswords know that Wes pays a bounty to those who break up customer fights ($200 or more). Those who die in the pit, or otherwise, are carried out by a "staff only" door to the rear, where salvageable organs and cybernetics go to the chop-shop, and bodies to the mortuary. Some of Rafm's tough-guys are usually to be found here, notably Volt and Gundam (in the beer garden), as are numerous Simvan.

Cedric's Cybermart is one of two local chop-shops. Cedric is the senior doc (he has two assistants). Full conversion is available here, in exchange for cash, for a 4-year indenture (immediately sold to Rafm), or on a replayment scheme. The repayment scheme invariably has the borrower implanted with several secret items: a timer (which begins temporarily disabling the cybernetics if not reset, as when a payment is made; when a payment is a week late, the cybernetics are completely disabled), a locator and a bomb (with a tamper trigger, does D6 MD). Payments are monthly at 30% PA interest. The shop also buys used cybernetics and intact body organs. Medical treatment is also available, though on a cash-in-advance basis only. Cedric gets some of his stock from the Butchers, the local snatch gang. Also, oil changes (free) and oil baths are available, as is molting. Cedric always uses such opportunities to examine his clients' bionics, though he doesn't tamper with them. A pair of orc PC borgs always hang around for security, but the pictures of Cedric and Gundam on the interior walls usually do the trick.

Boot Hill is the local mortuary. They also sell a variety of things, from corpses for animation or worse (up to $1000 for a good-condition adult, more for special requests), to anti-vampire weapons (no TW stuff). Coffins, funerals, embalming and restoration for a good-looking corpse, and burials or cremations are all available, with a full range (from the borrowed pine box to the Imperial Casket, parade and all-night wake, and MD mausoleum). Wes, the owner of this and the two above establishments, is a hooded-eyed city rat with a taste for the good life. He's also prepared to do anything, from swimming in a sewer on down, to keep money coming in.

The Milk Bar. Apparently a pub, this place is a drug cafe - although it sells alcohol too. "Milk" (milk and LSD) is popular, but "Racer" (speed), "Killer" (PCP) and "Nirvana" (heroin) are all sellers too. Neat drugs for taking away, plus equipment, are sold here too. The place is run by a trio of mutant goats, who usually have D4+1 thugs somewhere on the premises for restoring order.

The Hall of Violence. An MDC building filled with unloaded, disabled weapons bearing tracers ("display models") and suits of armour. Most weapons and non-power armour can be purchased here, though prices are standard to high. There is no competing establishment; the place is like a department store, and Rafm owns it. Several (1D4+1) brodkil frequent the place, usually fencing with melee weapons or practicing with bows etc. but they also serve as security. A psi-stalker with telepathy is the store detective, and his eye (as well as mind) is keen.

Akechi Motors. Apparently a junkyard, this is actually a vehicle dealership. The owners, a large extended family of hard-bitten dwarves, specialise in nearly-destroyed vehicles which they restore to useable status, then sell for 50% of the new price. They do also purchase small quantities of new vehicles from outside, and can fabricate 4WDs and motorcycles on site. All weapons are disabled, and there are lock-on disablers to prevent the stock being driven off by thieves. One of the dwarves is constantly watching from inside an apparently-disabled Webley A-3 robot. Occasionally they have "as-is specials", such as a suit of CEC Stinger mystic PA recently acquired.

The Arsenal. This is the stronghold of Larsen's military forces, a squat series of interconnected fortifications, some of them underground. One of Rafm's minions is always in attendance to run things. The Arsenal is connected by buried landlines to the Gate, to the Mayor's Office and to the remote gun towers out in the fields, and these are constantly monitored by troops, so that an attack is unlikely to go unnoticed. Larsen has only 150 troops, and only one-third of these are on duty at any time, but another third can respond if needed within 10 minutes. The last third are usually carousing and will rarely be available on less than 6 hours notice. Equipment for the troops varies, but is typically Budget Enclosed or UM armour and P-20 pulse rifles. About a third of the soldiers are dwarves or orcs, another third various other d-bee types (mostly Simvan), and the rest human (split evenly between white and aboriginal). Roughly 1 soldier in 5 carries a heavy weapon, such as a Webley Personal grenade launcher or ADI mini-missile launcher, and roughly 1 in 10 is a full-conversion borg or wears a suit of LRP power armour. Borgs and power armour troops are armed with 20mm Havoc rifles. There is a paranormal support platoon, made up of mages and psychics, but they number only 30 and once again only 10 will be on duty at any time. The vehicle pool holds 6 ATVs, 4 crawlers, a lightly armoured hover transport, and a battered Komodo tank with a 12-tube short-range missile launcher replacing the main gun. A camouflage cover conceals a lovingly-kept antique 75mm automatic gun used to repair air attacks.

The Mayor's Office. Rafm's stronghold is a bizarre-appearing building built in a conical spiral. To enter, one must climb a stair which winds around the cone to the top (about 50m above the ground), then descend a central spiral stair. The upper floors are occupied by amoral humans who perform administrative duties, and bestial brodkil who serve as Rafm's hatchetmen (they number about 20, total). The lowest level, actually below ground, is Rafm's sanctum. Apart from a meeting chamber, where he gives instructions to his minions, none have entered his sanctum and returned. It is, no doubt, a nightmare region where things exist and are done that should never see the light. The walls are meters-thick stone, and half a dozen Simvan or a dozen grunts always stand guard outside.

Rafm, Neuron Beast. Possessed of an inhuman intelligence and an alien hunger for emotion, Rafm is the reason Larsen exists. Without him, the place would soon decay into warring factions, and in a few months be a sleepy dunghole visited infrequently by bandits. He enjoys the status quo, and has no intentions of changing it; he prefers to let it grow naturally. He monitors powerful visitors, but sees no-one except his most powerful minions: Jacinth (a d-bee sorceress), Volt (a human mutant), Gundam (a full-conversion borg), Hostage (a psionic entity), Comanche (a d-bee mutant) and Holden (a city rat assassin). Under no circumstances is he likely to be successfully baited, taunted, or manipulated, though he could be deceived. If he suspects a plot to himself, he may delay crushing it to learn more, but he will not be so foolish as to permit intruders to confront him personally. He is more likely to have his forces surround the enemy in secret and crush them from ambush.

Jacinth. IQ 14, MA 22, PS 20, PP 18, PE 20, SPD 100, HF 9, MDC 20, PPE 120. 3 attacks/melee, +1 initiative, +5 parry & dodge, +3 roll with punch, claws D6 MD, bite D4 MD. A human-like d-bee, Jacinth has dark green translucent skin, no hair anywhere (but has many fine tentacles resembling dreadlocks), and featureless green eyes. She's a lovely but alien beauty, 190cm tall and voluptuous to a human eye. A sorceress-type, level 3, she knows 1D4 spell of each level 1-9. She can employ an energy field at will for no PPE cost, and is herself a minor MDC structure (20 MDC). Normally wears Body Glove armour and arms herself with a TK pistol and an ADI Portable plasma rifle. Jacinth is aware of the effect her disturbing beauty has on males, and enjoys manipulating them (although she has absolutely no interest in emotional attachment or sex; sex as her race knows it rarely leaves the male alive, and consequently her kind do not form attachments). She respects Rafm's magical powers, his intelligence and most of all his appetite for manipulation, something she also enjoys. Jacinth came voluntarily through a rift from her home dimension, and has no regard for human life (she considers humans to be a semi-intelligent animal). Of Rafm's other minions, she has regard only for Hostage.

Volt. Mutant human, 6th level. Volt is of mixed chinese and anglo-saxon ancestry. He has no family anyone knows of and could be described as an angry young man; he is constantly aggressive, usually hostile in conversation (except when he knows he is outclassed, such as when talking to Rafm), and kills without warning when annoyed. Something terrible happened when he was young, and from there he came like a man ridden by demons to Larsen. Hatred of the world and self-loathing have driven him deep into psychosis, something Rafm admires the way someone else might admire a beautiful sculpture. He has the powers of Alter Physical Structure: Electricity, extraordinary PE, and energy sense (like that provided by electrokinesis, but usable at will). He deliberately wears no armour and carries no weapons. His erratic violence makes him feared, especially since it's known that he has Rafm's protection.

Gundam. Human before becoming a full-conversion cyborg. Gundam's body is a custom type, humanoid but 5m tall and massing 8 tonnes. He's more than a match for most robot vehicles, with 400 MDC (not counting his custom armour, which adds 400 more). He can attach a BFG railgun in an over-the-shoulder mount and 2 12-tube minimissile launchers on shoulders. Finally, he usually wears a giant vibro-sword (4D6 MDC damage). Retractable human-sized utility arms are installed inboard of his giant arms, permitting him to use and handle human-sized equipment. His body is styled to resemble a classic anime giant robot, brightly finished in blue and red. Gundam was a worthless street urchin, his body stunted and wracked with disease, and eventually he ended up on Doc Cedric's table after being smashed nearly to a pulp by a trio of drunk Simvan. Rafm took an interest in him, and directed the Doc to make him "more powerful than regular cyborgs". The newly christened Gundam, once his body tests were complete, found the Simvan responsible and left them unrecognisable under bloody footprints. Since then, he's become oddly quiet and introspective, and Rafm has lost interest him him. Gundam has never had any schooling or even proper military training, but in the two years since his re-creation he's taken to learning about everything. He still enjoys watching fights at the Glory Hole and doesn't hesitate to use violence, but he is beginning to form moral judgements of his own, and may soon realise that Rafm must be destroyed.

Hostage. Originally Hostage was the psyche of a powerful evil mind mage (15th level), on some other world. After many years, the finding and losing of a dictator's throne, and the defeat of many enemies, he at last fell beneath the blades of avenging heroes. He, a master of the mind, survived the mere loss of his body and travelled the winds of the Megaverse, eventually settling in this dimension, some years before the time of rifts. There, he began a rampage of horror, as one of the most evil (and unstoppable) super-villains ever. The time of rifts was a time of trouble for him, but he survived. After some decades, he noticed with chagrin that the growing numbers of magicians and psychics was eroding his edge, as others threatened to approach his level of ability. Unexpectedly, he was trapped in a magical artifact by the black wizard Nojjar, where despite his howling and vilest thoughts he was trapped in servitude. Numberless years passed, and the artifact came into Rafm's tentacles. Realising what it held, he broke it, and Hostage was released. In Rafm he recognised a benefactor and a superior being, and from that day Hostage has served only Rafm. Hostage possesses the bodies of others for conveniently interfacing with the physical world and for pure pleasure. Plumbing the depths of depravity, he has inhabited a procession of guttersnipes, prostitutes, beggars and street urchins, which also serve to conceal his frightening power.

Comanche. A d-bee reptile humanoid (use picture in RMB, p.144). Comanche has a very low empathy, and only with difficulty equates other living beings with himself. For crimes of violence, and worse, on his homeworld his death was sought, but he foiled his pursuers by leaping into a dimensional vortex. His homeworld was subjected to super-high winds by its absurd axial tilt, and like all his race he has a heavily armoured hide. In addition, he has the super powers of diffraction field, electric aura, electric bolt, and adhesion as well as retractable claws. Comanche has a strongly developed sense of self-preservation and is highly intelligent. Acts as head of Rafm's secret police, with many informers. His powers permit him to spy most places well. He has no love for Rafm, but fears him; if he thought Rafm likely to lose in a contest, he would consider switching sides.

Holden. This man is evidence that you don't have to be an alien or ageless to be evil. City rat assassin, 9th level. He runs the Butchers cybersnatch gang and the Body Shop chop-shop, though he's rarely seen with either. He pretends charm, manners, style, and breeding, but his tastes are the lowest and crudest and he has a wicked temper. Unlike some of Rafm's other minions, he can be easily baited, particularly by insults targeting his manly prowess. He has almost superhuman charm (M.A. 24), and has contacts in many places beyond Larsen; he procures supplies and makes deals on Rafm's behalf, frequently. He knows many people but has few friends - those who get to know him learn not to like him. He grew up in Larsen, a gutter rat, gang member, and treacherous hustler. His survival - and eventual financial success - was accomplished by the carefully timed betrayal of old friends and associates. His willingness to discard those close to him in exchange for personal gratification caught Rafm's attention. Rafm is a figure of fear to Holden, who would be capable of betraying him if only he thought he could do it safely. Of Rafm's other minions, only Hostage might be considered a friend. Always well-groomed and sharply dressed, accompanied by a couple of his recent "makeovers", shapely young girls modified to look like film stars (more the Pamela Lee than the Jodie Foster).