****CHAPTER 2****
[Scene Change]
[6/7/1949]
Arless carried a burdened disposition as he approached his rooftop terrace. Standing in the door frame, he gazed into the city skyline as the sun was setting, the darkening red hue reflecting against his eyes. The massive tower in the the distance marking the center of Colony created a shadow that engulfed half of the city. He approached and began fumbling around in a wooden box of phonograph records. He compulsively analyzed each one until he made his selection and placed it on the aged phonograph nearby. Quickly setting the needle on the record, he slumped into a lying position on his ornate wrought-iron swing, breathing rhythmically and moving his right hand up and down the front of his chest, attempting his own form of meditation. Something seemed out of place in his environs. It was nothing he could see, hear, or sense anywhere around him.
He intently began sniffing the air, and found the scent of a cigarette. He pinpointed the brand to one only sold in the bazaars on the outskirts of town. It was the favorite brand of his friend Dramon.
"I thought you said you quit!" Arless called out.
"Very much like you, me, and that record you're playing, old habits seldom die..." The voice sounded close.
Arless looked at the edge of the terrace. Dramon was lying against a potted tree, the tree's shadow and the cloud of his cigarette smoke created a heavy ambiance around him. "Always the more dramatic one, eh Dramon?" He assumed a sitting position on his swing.
Dramon took a heavy drag and stood up. "You would know, man..." He walked over to his old friend and shared an embrace, in which Dramon loudly grunted and quickly backed away. "Mother FUCK! Sorry, forgot to tell you about that."
Arless looked down on his now blood covered hand. "Was the incident serious?"
Dramon took a seat on the swing. " Not really... just another run in with the Daemons. "
"What was it this time?"
Dramon dropped his sword off his shoulder. "Never mind that. All you need to know is those bastards are making more and more transactions a day, and slowly I'm topping the gang's shit-list."
Arless put his hands on his hips, looking intently into Dramon's eyes. "I see... You didn't come here to just to-" A large rolled up paper landed in his hand.
Dramon lit another cigarette. "Keep it. I made another copy." Unrolling it revealed a large map, marked with cryptic notes.
"And the key?"
Dramon pointed to the ground. "Fell out of the map. It's at your feet, old fool."
"So it is... haha"
Rolling it back up, He pointed it back at Dramon. "I'll have you know that I'm going to need this kind of stuff soon..."
"Your skills slipping away from you?"
"Close. I may very well have a chair in the Delegation. I feel my professional years in Colony may be useful to a more noble cause." Arless sat next to him. " No more need for practical thievery. Lives or otherwise."
"What's that mean?"
"It means I'm going to be traveling for a while around Colony, and explore my professional potential out in the world before I take it... I'm becoming a rare breed..."
Dramon picked up his gear. "Yeah. Adventurous and a Vampire. Well, I'll probably see you again when I least expect it." he said while holding his friend tightly.
Arless smiled softly. "That's what I was thinking... Take care, dear Dramon."
[Scene change: The Stake]
Dramon opened the front door to the inn, wincing as the smells of large brutish creatures and copious amounts of alcohol came rushing through the door. Walking in, the seedy ambient light created hulking silhouettes of the patrons, exaggerating many of their already dangerous demeanors. Dramon walked past them without intimidation, straight toward the bar.
So this is my so called "Day Job". I work in an Inn called The Stake: The only halfway reputable hub for professionals on this end of Colony. You can get a room, some decent booze, as well as some information or hired help from someone like me.
"Korstan!" Dramon shouted toward the bar area. He heard no response... "Weird... KORSTAN!!!!"
"Don't... FUCK-ing start with me!" He heard from below the bar. Dramon became annoyed as he looked down behind the bar, and found his information broker on the ground, obviously very intoxicated.
"You know you'd make more money if you didn't drink what you served..." He jibed as he helped him up on a stool. "Any jobs, today?"
"No..." Korstan's head drifted around, completely unfocused on Dramon. "You know how it is... Life... death... all there..." Korstan finally made eye contact. "...like you... yeah... you're there..."
"Shit..." Dramon sighed. "I'll cover for the night, See If I can't get more work..."
Dropping his coat and weapons behind the bar, he picked up a circular tray, policing the tables for dirty shot glasses and thirsty customers.
This is better than most days. At least I'll be serving the drinks, not mopping up "used ones".
The usual patrons were there: A tremendous slumping shadow mulling over a tray of shots.
There's Gerza: a vigilante known for his size and alcohol input.
two human students arguing over their notes.
Ren and Farn: the "educated type"...
and a group of vampyric looking women.
And these girls... the uh... something-or-other... sisters. I really don't think they're sisters if you get my meaning...
He then noticed a sight completely out of place: A Detective, a Woodborn and a woman in Coven robes sat at a well lit table in the middle of the establishment.
Bingo. Out-of-Towners.
He approached them and put on his best tone. "Good Evening, and Welcome to The Stake: is there anything you require? We have the best food, drink and lodging on this end of town!"
The Detective looked at Dramon's arm. He slowly lifted an iron arm, quickly grasping Dramon's wrist and turning it up, showing his Freelancer mark. "We hear there are professionals that frequent this place, and we're looking for a guide."
Dramon sat down with the group. "Depends on where you plan to go..."
"There's not much we can say until we find the right person. What we can say is that we have business in the Imperial Centre."
"Really... Follow me." Dramon replied sternly.
[Scene Change: Dramon's Office ]
Dramon took the group downstairs to a large room in the basement of the inn. The walls were covered in maps and marking various areas of Colony, along with a copious assortment of weapons and artifacts. Some weapons include a rack of throwing knives, A few spears holding up an otherwise unstable table, and an axe cast into the corner, a fair amount of old blood still crusted on it.
"Impressive headquarters. But how much experience in this profession do you have?" The woman curiously asked.
Dramon turned around after retrieving a few maps. He grinned, as that was the first good question he heard all night. He then handed his credential license to the Dectective.
"I can tell that two of you are from Cathedral. However, you, Detective are stationed in the Industrial District, given the professional make of your arm. The Industrial District is at least five miles from here, so it seems they came to meet you or at least meet you half way..." Dramon took a breath and then sat down.
"This assignment probably has to do with the rumors circulating around the last few months of Imperial downfall. Given the fact that higher Coven Elders rarely leave Cathedral, I must assume the rumors may be true."
"Very Good. " The Detective responded. "Irons is the name..." he saluted with his metal arm. "Imperial Enforcer."
"I am Raetes of the Enlighened Wood." The Woodborn bowed.
"I am Elder Derias" The woman responded. She walked close to him, her heavy grey robes slowing her stride. "You must be Mr. Dramon Wynn." She offered her hand to greet him, in which he happily reciprocated."I know someone close..." She continued. "... and it seems you are as strong as your reputation."
"So, will you take this assignment?" Irons inquired
"Yes, but I ask the price of two thousand... ...Each." Dramon sternly replied.
Irons was ready to burst. "That's extortion!" Steam rose from his iron arm.
Derias stepped in front of Irons. "We'll pay it." She stroked Dramon's face in the style of a Coven blessing. "It is an investment worth far more than what this man is asking, and I trust that he will use the funds toward this journey."
"You have my full promise, Elder." Dramon respectfully replied. "Now unless you have a carriage, We will be traveling on foot."
"We don't." Irons continued. "Our mission must be done with a Low-profile to decrease suspicion."
"We'll be going into the outskirts tomorrow. I suggest you room here for the night. No need to rush into this..." The others took a seat at his table. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get to know you all better. What led you guys here?"
Irons got up quickly, and walked out of the room without a word, steam still pouring out of his metal prosthetic. His face had a look of vengeful withdrawing.
Raetes straightened his chair. "I'll start."
He carried himself like a normal adult male, but had the appearance of an early adolescent. His hair was shaggy and white, his ears slender, long and came to a slightly bowed point. He wore flat gray trousers and a similar colored jacket with no buttons. A cacophony of emotion could be read in his deep green eyes.
"For quite a few years, I have represented my village in service to the Elders in Cathedral..."
[Quick flashback to the events, all narrated by Raetes]
"...In the last few months, some people with a dark aura have been crossing through our forest, and since then, several of my people have gone mad, commiting unspeakable acts. In an attempt to quell them, our most trusted Elder had been murdered by one of them in cold blood.
His body was withered, as if there were nothing but skin and bone. His eyes were pulled from his skull, and his heart torn from his chest. We tried to appeal to the Imperial Parliament, but there's been nothing but silence."
"I came to Elder Derias for advice, and It seems she already knew..."
"l did.." Derias supplemented. "I've felt much of this, and many of us agree. We would have been in contact with our Imperial Ambassadors already, but they've disappeared from us."
"So you want to find out for yourself what exactly is happening." He then got up and approached the exit. Looking back at his new clients. His voice was one of respectful kindness. "There are some extra beds behind you. Please, Rest well."
Dramon then went back to the tavern and saw Irons seated with Gerza, while their sizes were contrasting, their looks were the same. Irons stared blankly into the bottom of four full steins of beer. He then took a seat next to him.
"Something you don't want to talk about, huh..." Dramon asked.
"Wanted to, but your big friend over here's not much for conversation." Irons grabbed his first stein and gulped down a good amount of it.
"You're not quite used to your new appendage, I see. I take it you've got a personal vendetta somehow related to this..."
"You don't miss a beat, don't you?" Irons began. "Screw it. Persistent bastard like you was gonna find out anyway." He flexed his arm, comparing it to his new one.
" It was four months ago. I was working with an Inspector on a case when I found he was corrupt. He was making deals with one of the Daemon gangs in exchange for covering up their crimes. The rest of the details are fuzzy right now, but all I know is one of those evil sons-of-bitches carved up near every inch of me, and took my arm in the end. I'm not much on investigations, but got a feeling they're somehow connected..."
"I'll keep that in mind..."
[Scene Change]
[6/7/1949]
Arless carried a burdened disposition as he approached his rooftop terrace. Standing in the door frame, he gazed into the city skyline as the sun was setting, the darkening red hue reflecting against his eyes. The massive tower in the the distance marking the center of Colony created a shadow that engulfed half of the city. He approached and began fumbling around in a wooden box of phonograph records. He compulsively analyzed each one until he made his selection and placed it on the aged phonograph nearby. Quickly setting the needle on the record, he slumped into a lying position on his ornate wrought-iron swing, breathing rhythmically and moving his right hand up and down the front of his chest, attempting his own form of meditation. Something seemed out of place in his environs. It was nothing he could see, hear, or sense anywhere around him.
He intently began sniffing the air, and found the scent of a cigarette. He pinpointed the brand to one only sold in the bazaars on the outskirts of town. It was the favorite brand of his friend Dramon.
"I thought you said you quit!" Arless called out.
"Very much like you, me, and that record you're playing, old habits seldom die..." The voice sounded close.
Arless looked at the edge of the terrace. Dramon was lying against a potted tree, the tree's shadow and the cloud of his cigarette smoke created a heavy ambiance around him. "Always the more dramatic one, eh Dramon?" He assumed a sitting position on his swing.
Dramon took a heavy drag and stood up. "You would know, man..." He walked over to his old friend and shared an embrace, in which Dramon loudly grunted and quickly backed away. "Mother FUCK! Sorry, forgot to tell you about that."
Arless looked down on his now blood covered hand. "Was the incident serious?"
Dramon took a seat on the swing. " Not really... just another run in with the Daemons. "
"What was it this time?"
Dramon dropped his sword off his shoulder. "Never mind that. All you need to know is those bastards are making more and more transactions a day, and slowly I'm topping the gang's shit-list."
Arless put his hands on his hips, looking intently into Dramon's eyes. "I see... You didn't come here to just to-" A large rolled up paper landed in his hand.
Dramon lit another cigarette. "Keep it. I made another copy." Unrolling it revealed a large map, marked with cryptic notes.
"And the key?"
Dramon pointed to the ground. "Fell out of the map. It's at your feet, old fool."
"So it is... haha"
Rolling it back up, He pointed it back at Dramon. "I'll have you know that I'm going to need this kind of stuff soon..."
"Your skills slipping away from you?"
"Close. I may very well have a chair in the Delegation. I feel my professional years in Colony may be useful to a more noble cause." Arless sat next to him. " No more need for practical thievery. Lives or otherwise."
"What's that mean?"
"It means I'm going to be traveling for a while around Colony, and explore my professional potential out in the world before I take it... I'm becoming a rare breed..."
Dramon picked up his gear. "Yeah. Adventurous and a Vampire. Well, I'll probably see you again when I least expect it." he said while holding his friend tightly.
Arless smiled softly. "That's what I was thinking... Take care, dear Dramon."
[Scene change: The Stake]
Dramon opened the front door to the inn, wincing as the smells of large brutish creatures and copious amounts of alcohol came rushing through the door. Walking in, the seedy ambient light created hulking silhouettes of the patrons, exaggerating many of their already dangerous demeanors. Dramon walked past them without intimidation, straight toward the bar.
So this is my so called "Day Job". I work in an Inn called The Stake: The only halfway reputable hub for professionals on this end of Colony. You can get a room, some decent booze, as well as some information or hired help from someone like me.
"Korstan!" Dramon shouted toward the bar area. He heard no response... "Weird... KORSTAN!!!!"
"Don't... FUCK-ing start with me!" He heard from below the bar. Dramon became annoyed as he looked down behind the bar, and found his information broker on the ground, obviously very intoxicated.
"You know you'd make more money if you didn't drink what you served..." He jibed as he helped him up on a stool. "Any jobs, today?"
"No..." Korstan's head drifted around, completely unfocused on Dramon. "You know how it is... Life... death... all there..." Korstan finally made eye contact. "...like you... yeah... you're there..."
"Shit..." Dramon sighed. "I'll cover for the night, See If I can't get more work..."
Dropping his coat and weapons behind the bar, he picked up a circular tray, policing the tables for dirty shot glasses and thirsty customers.
This is better than most days. At least I'll be serving the drinks, not mopping up "used ones".
The usual patrons were there: A tremendous slumping shadow mulling over a tray of shots.
There's Gerza: a vigilante known for his size and alcohol input.
two human students arguing over their notes.
Ren and Farn: the "educated type"...
and a group of vampyric looking women.
And these girls... the uh... something-or-other... sisters. I really don't think they're sisters if you get my meaning...
He then noticed a sight completely out of place: A Detective, a Woodborn and a woman in Coven robes sat at a well lit table in the middle of the establishment.
Bingo. Out-of-Towners.
He approached them and put on his best tone. "Good Evening, and Welcome to The Stake: is there anything you require? We have the best food, drink and lodging on this end of town!"
The Detective looked at Dramon's arm. He slowly lifted an iron arm, quickly grasping Dramon's wrist and turning it up, showing his Freelancer mark. "We hear there are professionals that frequent this place, and we're looking for a guide."
Dramon sat down with the group. "Depends on where you plan to go..."
"There's not much we can say until we find the right person. What we can say is that we have business in the Imperial Centre."
"Really... Follow me." Dramon replied sternly.
[Scene Change: Dramon's Office ]
Dramon took the group downstairs to a large room in the basement of the inn. The walls were covered in maps and marking various areas of Colony, along with a copious assortment of weapons and artifacts. Some weapons include a rack of throwing knives, A few spears holding up an otherwise unstable table, and an axe cast into the corner, a fair amount of old blood still crusted on it.
"Impressive headquarters. But how much experience in this profession do you have?" The woman curiously asked.
Dramon turned around after retrieving a few maps. He grinned, as that was the first good question he heard all night. He then handed his credential license to the Dectective.
"I can tell that two of you are from Cathedral. However, you, Detective are stationed in the Industrial District, given the professional make of your arm. The Industrial District is at least five miles from here, so it seems they came to meet you or at least meet you half way..." Dramon took a breath and then sat down.
"This assignment probably has to do with the rumors circulating around the last few months of Imperial downfall. Given the fact that higher Coven Elders rarely leave Cathedral, I must assume the rumors may be true."
"Very Good. " The Detective responded. "Irons is the name..." he saluted with his metal arm. "Imperial Enforcer."
"I am Raetes of the Enlighened Wood." The Woodborn bowed.
"I am Elder Derias" The woman responded. She walked close to him, her heavy grey robes slowing her stride. "You must be Mr. Dramon Wynn." She offered her hand to greet him, in which he happily reciprocated."I know someone close..." She continued. "... and it seems you are as strong as your reputation."
"So, will you take this assignment?" Irons inquired
"Yes, but I ask the price of two thousand... ...Each." Dramon sternly replied.
Irons was ready to burst. "That's extortion!" Steam rose from his iron arm.
Derias stepped in front of Irons. "We'll pay it." She stroked Dramon's face in the style of a Coven blessing. "It is an investment worth far more than what this man is asking, and I trust that he will use the funds toward this journey."
"You have my full promise, Elder." Dramon respectfully replied. "Now unless you have a carriage, We will be traveling on foot."
"We don't." Irons continued. "Our mission must be done with a Low-profile to decrease suspicion."
"We'll be going into the outskirts tomorrow. I suggest you room here for the night. No need to rush into this..." The others took a seat at his table. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get to know you all better. What led you guys here?"
Irons got up quickly, and walked out of the room without a word, steam still pouring out of his metal prosthetic. His face had a look of vengeful withdrawing.
Raetes straightened his chair. "I'll start."
He carried himself like a normal adult male, but had the appearance of an early adolescent. His hair was shaggy and white, his ears slender, long and came to a slightly bowed point. He wore flat gray trousers and a similar colored jacket with no buttons. A cacophony of emotion could be read in his deep green eyes.
"For quite a few years, I have represented my village in service to the Elders in Cathedral..."
[Quick flashback to the events, all narrated by Raetes]
"...In the last few months, some people with a dark aura have been crossing through our forest, and since then, several of my people have gone mad, commiting unspeakable acts. In an attempt to quell them, our most trusted Elder had been murdered by one of them in cold blood.
His body was withered, as if there were nothing but skin and bone. His eyes were pulled from his skull, and his heart torn from his chest. We tried to appeal to the Imperial Parliament, but there's been nothing but silence."
"I came to Elder Derias for advice, and It seems she already knew..."
"l did.." Derias supplemented. "I've felt much of this, and many of us agree. We would have been in contact with our Imperial Ambassadors already, but they've disappeared from us."
"So you want to find out for yourself what exactly is happening." He then got up and approached the exit. Looking back at his new clients. His voice was one of respectful kindness. "There are some extra beds behind you. Please, Rest well."
Dramon then went back to the tavern and saw Irons seated with Gerza, while their sizes were contrasting, their looks were the same. Irons stared blankly into the bottom of four full steins of beer. He then took a seat next to him.
"Something you don't want to talk about, huh..." Dramon asked.
"Wanted to, but your big friend over here's not much for conversation." Irons grabbed his first stein and gulped down a good amount of it.
"You're not quite used to your new appendage, I see. I take it you've got a personal vendetta somehow related to this..."
"You don't miss a beat, don't you?" Irons began. "Screw it. Persistent bastard like you was gonna find out anyway." He flexed his arm, comparing it to his new one.
" It was four months ago. I was working with an Inspector on a case when I found he was corrupt. He was making deals with one of the Daemon gangs in exchange for covering up their crimes. The rest of the details are fuzzy right now, but all I know is one of those evil sons-of-bitches carved up near every inch of me, and took my arm in the end. I'm not much on investigations, but got a feeling they're somehow connected..."
"I'll keep that in mind..."
