Arcane Noir: Comic Book Treatment.

[OtakuDee]

So, I will be posting on a chapter to chapter basis. Please note that the formatting may be a bit weird, but there is a bit of narrative in between.

so...

****PROLOGUE****
[Images of War of Ages, All Narrated by Dramon]

People always wonder why we're here, or where we come from,  but we may never see the day when we truly understand the meaning of the questions themselves...

Legend has it that our world was once in the Age of the Blue Sky, a time where the world was yet to be explored.

Every walk a journey... ... Every item a treasure.

It all came to a close some 500 years ago. The world folded in and all the grand quests had been pursued. Treasures of great power and wealth had been recovered. Every race and nation began avaricious conquest.

War engulfed the world...

...Swords clashed below...

...Spells hit above.

The war lasted until the age had changed. All sides stopped and crawled from piles of fallen enemies and comrades to see the sky change to a haunting red, as if the gods themselves hung the blood of this war in the sky to remind them of this transgression against the world.

We rebuilt. This time as one unified land. An endless city among the surrounding wastes... 

Now...
*1949...
[*Time in this world is so similar to Earth to the point where it would be completely pointless to convert. -Dramon]

Things may have progressed, but the nature of all of us have not. The only absolute powers in this existence are Magic and Imperial Bureaucracy. Not that they are intrusive in our lives, but mysterious, and a pain in the ass to get anywhere... Many people live their lives to fit the times, but a few of us have the longing for more. We live as hired professionals, who travel, and serve many needs in the pursuit of new journeys.

My name is Dramon Wynn, and this is my home. Others refer to it as:

COLONY.


[Title Page, credits, and all that jazz]

[Scene Change: Black and White bar]

The drunken dregs of society are all scattered about a large establishment. They were all of more common roots and occupations, such as workers, merchants and farmers. This night seemed special. These men were in a lot higher spirits, despite the usual political conversation about the room.

"Seven months, and not a word... nothing!"

"I've 'eard that they've been taken by a higher power."

"Coven's done nothing. Sounds like even the Gods have given up..."

"Suddenly honor and justice don't matter to the Colonial Empire anymore."

All attention was then drawn to the stage curtains. The crowd was dead silent as the curtains slowly revealed a traveling band. Fronting them was a woman of incomparable beauty who remained in a bowed position in front of the stage. 

"Too long, you suffered. Too long, has this gone on. The only thing we ask is they tell us what is happening, yet our pleas go unanswered. " She proclaimed, still bowed down. She then slowly raised her head to the audience. "One day, our answers will be found."

The band picked up slowly, but then began a more jauntier, swinging pace. As She sang, her movements amplified he drama of the tune.

You can see the throat begging for mercy
As it labors and struggles for breath
Then the blade softly lie
quickly passing it by
dripping crimson and slipping in death

We cant see Lady Colony bleeding
Desperate cries (so sad) go unheard.
As we walk (on our knees)
And we live (in disease)
her fine people need only a word...

Many in the crowd had memorized the song. It was a song of inspiration these last few months. When the chorus came, the crowd chanted with her, swinging their glasses and moving to the beat of the song:

When Father Grim Reaper approacheth
and the hour of war passes by.
Stand up proudly and spit.
Say "We wont take your shit!"
We will stand up
or lie down and die...

[OtakuDee]

****CHAPTER 1****
[Scene Change: Industrial Area]
[Dramon: Progress on industrial area: 67% complete. Current area surveying: alleyway between the Crystal Refinery and Bookbinder. Possible Underground Entrances: 2]

The setting sky reflected off of Dramon's binoculars as he surveyed deeply into the alleyway, a half drawn map and pen in the other hand. He remained crouched over a dumpster as he observed from afar a ragged human form chasing a rat with a sharp bit of iron. The man swung violently, the loud pounding of metal ricocheting off the alley walls. The rat quickly took refuge up a terracotta storm drain pipe. In one last angry swing, he destroyed a large portion of the pipe. Digging desperately through his resulting rubble, the rat was nowhere to be found.

"Gods be fucking damned!" the man screamed, throwing his metal rod on the ground. "All of this trouble for a lousy meal, and nothing!" He began violently pacing. "I would kill, hell, I'd give my right nut for some cash right now!"

"You and me both, sir." Dramon quietly said to himself as he focused his binoculars, the intricate gear-work moving smoothly and slowly .

A green spectral projectile blew the grating off a nearby sewer cover, the haggard human knocked on his ass. Rising up from the ground was a man in a green three-piece suit and top hat. After slowly descending back to the ground, he walked up to the man, offering a hand up.

"Some spell you got there, man." The disheveled man responded. "You look like you got some extra pocket change. Care to spare some?"

"The name's Geoffery,  and you can obtain anything you like, if the right price is paid..." Geoffery pitched as dusted himself off and straightened his tie.

"Huh?" His near toothless mouth agape.

"What is it you desire?"

"The whole nine, sir:  Money, women..." He spun around and held out his arms. "...Charisma!"

Geoffery coughed. "Indeed sir. And how would would you pay for that?"

The man picked his iron stick back up. "Now listen you!  You blow my ass down after your grand entrance, and then you point out that I'm dirt stinking poor! You're really sick, you know that?"

"You misunderstand me..." From Geoffery's pocket he withdrew two keys on a large silver ring, holding them out to the vagabond.

"What are those?" He reached out for them. Dramon focused his view on the keys.

"These are the keys to a new life. Will a penthouse apartment in the Jewel District suit your needs?"

The man snatched them up. "Will it ever!? Jeez Mister! I thought you were a chump!"

"Oh, he is..." Dramon again quietly snapped back.

A limousine drove in from the opposite side of the alley, Parking right in front of the man. A harem of well dressed ladies poured out of the vehicle, all each carrying an article of clothing.

"Your driver will take you there. After all, you're rich now..." Geoffery smugly stated.

The man jumped for joy and celebrated, running inside the vehicle. Geoffery approached his window, which the man rolled down.

"Thanks, Mister! What do I owe you? Oooh!" The man managed to say before the ladies tore off his shirt.

Geoffery smiled. "You already paid, sir..." The limo sped away.

Dramon continued his focus on Geoffery until he phased away. "Poor bastard didn't know what he was getting himself into..."

[Did the man get what he wanted?]

The ladies inside his car began putting the clothes on the once poor man.
"Ladies, Ladies, not all at once, now..." He slyly giggled.
"Say, how's about I..." He unbuttoned his pants, then looked down, looking puzzled.

"Aaaaawwwww...." The ladies all said simultaneously.

"GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A BITCH! HOW COULD YOU!?!?!?!" The man screamed as the limo headed down the desolate highway.

Back in the Industrial District, Dramon had put his map away and walked back until he felt a chill behind him. Quickly looking back, he saw two large twin thugs with small horns and bright blond buzzcuts. They wore bright red short sleeve button-up shirts, their arms tattooed with demonic iconography.

"We got a Voyeur, eh?" One of them grunted.

"Somebody seems to REALLY like Cousin Geoffery's work!" The next one responded. " Did ya, Peepers?"

"The limousine was a nice touch..." Dramon replied. He tried walking away, but the thugs phased in front of him.

"We don't like witnesses, savvy? That transaction was supposed to be a private one..."

The other one stepped closer. "Puttin' it bluntly... Your arse is ours..."

Quickly, One of the thugs phased behind him, brandished a jagged knife, and stabbed Dramon in the side.
Dramon screamed, dropping to the floor with a few convulsions, blood raining on the pavement from his side as he pulled it out slowly.

"Understand now, boy?" The thug in front of him pulled from Dramon's scabbard, a large and wide sword. "Live by the sword..."

Dramon, whilst still kneeling, swiftly punched the thug in the family jewels, sending him backwards to the ground. Catching his sword. Dramon then swung the sword around in a circle, slicing the thug behind him in half widthwise, a torrent of blood trailing the sword after finishing the job.

He approached the trembling demon, groaning over his injured pride, amongst other things.

"Die by the asshole wielding the sword..." He grins.

[last panel is black. just a scream, and a splatter]

[OtakuDee]

****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..."