Sonja Mac Eogann

In the Rinyldissen Arena is a slum the depravity of which is scarcely comprehensible. Suffering from the worst kind of ‘bucke of crab’ effect, the old and gargantuan monument to violence and poverty, the Arena, is build sometimes 6 stories high of the mos dillapitated structures imaginable, wit all manner of wicknedness, despair and stupidity. The place is mostly inhabited by humans at their worst. To the right from the entrance is a garish and horrific monument to bad taste, ‘The Red Persian”, a sprawling establishment infesting dozens of interlocked hovels and warehouses – an utterly contemptible tavern that churns through the lowest of the lowest of press ganger desperate prostitutes by the dozens a month. The proprietress of this vulgar abode of inuiquity is the widely known (and dreaded) unwashed mountain of animate lard and fat, Sonja Mac Eogann. She is a very loud, authoritatative and utterly terrifying presence. Nearly everyone in the area is terrified to death of her, not for lack of her horrible abuse, her nightmare level cooking, her legendary toxity farts and her ruthless ways – but also as some suspect her of high level involvent with the criminal underworld of the city. Her husband is a former gladiator from the inner arena, and she surrounds herself with dangerous characters of all sorts.