** Azukre Sarastus / District 13 **
**Azukre Sarastus /District13**
Creation of Mr. Crowley
((Property of the GrandSugarClan))
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Satan’s Penthouse in District 13
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Satan’s Penthouse in District 13
Satan obtained the money he needed, he encouraged his followers make contacts and negotiations on his behalf and he was now perched at the bleeding edge of District 13’s highest tower, Satan’s penthouse is a dark jewel in the heart of the city’s rotting neon sprawl — an unholy throne room masquerading as luxury. The exterior is wrapped in smoked glass and polished obsidian, reflecting the ever-burning crimson skyline like a pool of spilled blood.
Inside, the space is vast, open, and unnervingly pristine. The walls are floor-to-ceiling glass, giving Satan a god’s-eye view of the decaying city below — a panoramic stage for the chaos he quietly cultivates. Sleek, modern furnishings in black leather and brushed steel stand in sharp contrast to the demonic presence that stains the air.
A massive circular pool sits at the center of the main lounge — black, still water mirroring the skyline’s hellish glow. This is where Satan often stands, wings unfurled, horns crowned in the flickering light of a permanent dusk. It’s as much an altar as a luxury feature — a ritual basin for silent invocations or simply a place to watch his dominion ripple outward through the city’s veins.
The lighting is low and ominous: red LED strips snake along the ceiling and floor, casting an eternal, sinister glow that dances across the water and polished black marble floors. Blood-red curtains drape one side of the living space, concealing hidden rooms where unspoken deals and darker pleasures unfold.
Symbols of his Cathedral’s faith are scattered throughout in tasteful, sinister touches: a carved obsidian gargoyle perched on a shelf, demonic sigils etched into the glass panels, ancient tomes of forbidden rites locked behind smoky glass cases.
A private elevator opens into the penthouse, sealed by biometric runes that only Satan — or those he allows — can break. Beyond the main lounge, a lavish but cold bedroom is hidden behind sliding steel doors, where the bed is an altar in itself: black silk sheets, iron chains artfully coiled like decor, and a view that frames the city like a stage awaiting its next sin.
Above it all, Satan stands — wings vast and jagged like a rift in the skyline, horns crowned against the twilight blaze. Here, he is both king and phantom, watching the city choke on its own decay… exactly as he planned.
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