The party, through various ways, found themselves at a town floating on a piece of rock. Far above twinkled the prime, through a shadowy gloom. Below a black hole slowly spun, gobbling wisps of a plane that stretched out in oblivion into the 7th dimension.
Occasional gouts of matter from the shadow plane would rain down upon the town, raining food stuffs along with the occasional shadow mastif or what have you.
The wayward towns people of this town, a motley collection of lost souls from all over Golarion, had a ashen hue to them, as if the oppressive gloom had left its mark upon them.
The town was controleld by a group of dark men and a dark slayer, who gibbered to each other and never bothered the inhabitants as long as they gave the dark men what they wanted, which was little.