Post by Evoth on Jul 16, 2006 16:41:37 GMT -5
The pale moon shined brightly above the ebon city. Dazzling vehicles raced through the crowded streets without care as the people enjoyed the night life. Such an array of lights and sounds that would over loud anyone's senses were everywhere for all to see. Perplexing buildings aligned the city streets that offered such an elegant beauty for all the connoisseurs to enjoy. This city was simple known as Carthage. A city of beauty and wealth. But behind such beauty lie the darker side.
Within the confines of this beautiful city lies sin. The broken and torn buildings hidden by the dazzling spectacle lay it all. They offered all the vices that any human couldn't resist. Here on the streets lined with prostitutes and drug dealers lie deceit and treachery for both man and beast. Nothing could be done in this place. No police or authority tried to set foot within this boundary for fear of riot, destruction, and death.
The few that had power with this degrading system of black masses were the local crime syndicates. They ran it all. Drugs, gambling, and all most everything else that ran across the cold streets. The syndicates have gained much power through the underground market that flows through the streets of Carthage. Now with their power they have began to push into territory that they shouldn't have.
Loud music, dazzling light, and erotica. Words that described Der Klub in downtown Carthage. A myriad of colors danced along with the people. The night was young and the club was filling up fast. Everybody that was anybody entered into the night club. Everybody was enjoying themselves. Dancing, drinking, and drugs; the common task amongst everyone. But behind closed doors lie a more serious task for the owner of Der Klub.
Muffled beats of the heavy bass lines from the music could barely be heard in a large conference room. Around the cherry wood table sat the members of the syndicate. All of them dressed in leisure suits and silk. A few had scowls but most had a slate face. No one spoke a word. They all seemed to be waiting.
Suddenly the double oak doors flew open. A short man with a large cigar stood in the threshold. His suit was a specially tailored for someone of his stature. Dark maroon with purple speckles thrown delicately along the sleeves and back. His beady blue eyes looked angrily upon the fellow crime bosses. Running his ring cover fingers through his balding salt and pepper hair he walked over to a large black leather chair. This man was known as Marin Coby, head of the local syndicate.
Nothing but silence. The room was tensed. Suddenly the man slammed his fist onto the table. Everyone in the room flinched. "We're losing profits all because of some kid!" he yelled. His voice guff from years of strain. Business seemed to be declining. Apparently there have been sightings of a man at each incident. "Our supply is running low! I want answers now!"
A young crime boss yelped and spoke with a stutter, "Every man that we put on guard duty was dead. There were only puncture marks on their necks and they were decapitated. No matter how many men we put out they're all killed." Marin was silent, his eyes moving back and forth on the table. What could he do? Already more then seventeen men had been killed. Most shipments were unsalvageable.
A young figure walked into Der Club. He seemed like any other person in the club with an exception. Over his long navy leather was a large sword which looked like it had been freshly used. Beneath the jacket he wore a crimson shirt. His face had a cold look. Long strands of auburn hair rested slightly above emerald eyes. This lone figure walked through the club without any notice from people. Black boots made not a sound over the music that blasted in the room while charcoal pants draped over them. He made his way through the crowd and sat at the bar. Immediately the bartender poured him a scotch and passed it down the bar to him. The cool liquor reached his lips and passed his fangs.
Within the confines of this beautiful city lies sin. The broken and torn buildings hidden by the dazzling spectacle lay it all. They offered all the vices that any human couldn't resist. Here on the streets lined with prostitutes and drug dealers lie deceit and treachery for both man and beast. Nothing could be done in this place. No police or authority tried to set foot within this boundary for fear of riot, destruction, and death.
The few that had power with this degrading system of black masses were the local crime syndicates. They ran it all. Drugs, gambling, and all most everything else that ran across the cold streets. The syndicates have gained much power through the underground market that flows through the streets of Carthage. Now with their power they have began to push into territory that they shouldn't have.
Loud music, dazzling light, and erotica. Words that described Der Klub in downtown Carthage. A myriad of colors danced along with the people. The night was young and the club was filling up fast. Everybody that was anybody entered into the night club. Everybody was enjoying themselves. Dancing, drinking, and drugs; the common task amongst everyone. But behind closed doors lie a more serious task for the owner of Der Klub.
Muffled beats of the heavy bass lines from the music could barely be heard in a large conference room. Around the cherry wood table sat the members of the syndicate. All of them dressed in leisure suits and silk. A few had scowls but most had a slate face. No one spoke a word. They all seemed to be waiting.
Suddenly the double oak doors flew open. A short man with a large cigar stood in the threshold. His suit was a specially tailored for someone of his stature. Dark maroon with purple speckles thrown delicately along the sleeves and back. His beady blue eyes looked angrily upon the fellow crime bosses. Running his ring cover fingers through his balding salt and pepper hair he walked over to a large black leather chair. This man was known as Marin Coby, head of the local syndicate.
Nothing but silence. The room was tensed. Suddenly the man slammed his fist onto the table. Everyone in the room flinched. "We're losing profits all because of some kid!" he yelled. His voice guff from years of strain. Business seemed to be declining. Apparently there have been sightings of a man at each incident. "Our supply is running low! I want answers now!"
A young crime boss yelped and spoke with a stutter, "Every man that we put on guard duty was dead. There were only puncture marks on their necks and they were decapitated. No matter how many men we put out they're all killed." Marin was silent, his eyes moving back and forth on the table. What could he do? Already more then seventeen men had been killed. Most shipments were unsalvageable.
A young figure walked into Der Club. He seemed like any other person in the club with an exception. Over his long navy leather was a large sword which looked like it had been freshly used. Beneath the jacket he wore a crimson shirt. His face had a cold look. Long strands of auburn hair rested slightly above emerald eyes. This lone figure walked through the club without any notice from people. Black boots made not a sound over the music that blasted in the room while charcoal pants draped over them. He made his way through the crowd and sat at the bar. Immediately the bartender poured him a scotch and passed it down the bar to him. The cool liquor reached his lips and passed his fangs.
