Tall, gothic skyscrapers reach up into the cloudy night sky like glowing beacons. The streets are flooded with crowds of people laughing and shouting, and while the majority are human it'd be hard to miss the elf standing tall among them, or the goblins rummaging through trashcans in the side alleys or any of the countless other fantasy races among them. The street lamps, the cars, the crowds, they all add to the constant noise and energy that can be heard even from the highest story.
Lining these streets, hidden behind some of the storefronts or in the basements of others are speakeasies guarded by secret handshakes or special knocks. These ill-kept secrets bloom with music. Drunken flappers share stories and drinks, the crowd swaying to the music and the moonshine, unaware of the police raid ready to barge in outside.
Below the asphalt is a labyrinth of intricate tunnels, dimly lit with electric bulbs that never go out. These tunnels connect to central ventilation shafts that reach all the way to the surface. If you listen closely enough, you may be able to make out the hum of the industrial fan at the top, but it may be drowned out by the industry and commerce of the dwarves that live down here. The constant clang of metal and bloom of magic echoes through the Understreets, doing very well to hide the quiet whispers of surface races who have taken residence here, their shadowed faces peering at each passerby as they plot their next heist.
This is what you'll find here - drunken crowds, magic and industry, and crime in almost every corner. This is what it is to live in Gobston. What better place is there to make a name for yourself?