It smells in here. It smells of blood, the piercing scent of acid, a few sharp notes of urine from this cage or that from where that whorl-covered man screams and claws through the bars at anyone who comes too close. His face is twisted and his teeth are chipped from gnawing on the bars. An elf in tattered racing gear above him is restrained at the neck, wrists and ankles and she thrashes when she sees unrestrained interlopers, screams and roars in bestial fury.
The individuals of a thousand different forms glare from inside their cages, and the air heaves with their panting, their screaming, their low moans and hysterical laughter.
One large cage is dented, and its door hangs uselessly from the frame. Dozens of passengers wander the deck, snarling and leaping at one another, clawing at flesh, biting and tearing in violent blood lust.
It's brightly lit in here, but it seems dark somehow, terribly, terribly dark.
It smells of fear sweat.