Hello, everyone! after dealing with real life and the other nonsense of living, panny and i have decided to bring back war of change. give a round of applause. we’ve worked through all of the information and hopefully improved coherency and cohesion; however, tell us if we missed something. eventually, we’ll announce an event to celebrate the re-opening, so look out for information on that. -RAIDNE, THE HEAD ADMIN
From the moonless night, screams of terror and fear resound, spreading across the world and infecting the masses; however, those sleepless nights occurred years ago. A new era began with the fires of war, and with no end in sight, the residents of Selene Isle trudge through life, basking in the momentary peace. Despite their prayers for continued monotony and peace, a storm brews, stirred to life by the continued presence of Rapture and Wraith. And as we set our sights on the seemingly peace laden isle, we must ask: how shall this tale end?
As the years passed, the number of true pairs increased; however, they continued to live in the shadows, catering to the whims of the mundane. Seven Moons kept watch over them all, instructing them and assisting them, but for many, the attitudes and ideals of the organization were smoldering, suffocating. With Seven Moons and the mundanes, they could not grasp the freedom, the power dangling before their eyes. In the beginning, rebellion was a dream, a fantasy, a figment—developed by the repressed and carried forward due to the nature of humanity. No one expected the call to sound, and no one expected the call to be answered. However, it happened.
tanned fingers wrapped around the chilled glass, lifting the object off the counter and dumping the contents into his mouth. the bitter taste of alcohol flooded his senses, and with a subtle smirk decorating his sharp features, he set the cup down. the bartender stepped closer, beckoned closer by an impatient wave of the ravenette’s hand. more of the amber liquid appeared in his empty container, and as he shooed the nameless man away, the alcohol sloshed in the cup, shifting from side to side as the dark haired detective shifted. his adjusted position granted him a better view of the room and brought the various exits of the building into focus. his back connected with the wall, pressing against the object and providing him with extra support as he sipped at his drink. he savored the beverage, allowing the taste to linger before taking another mouthful.
a faint chiming echoed through the mostly deserted bar, daylight spilling into the room and stretching across the wooden floor; however, the light vanished with the abrupt closing of the door. darkness descended upon the space once again. the dim artificial lighting created the illusion of a sophisticated club, but the lack of people hinted toward the establishment’s lack of popularity. dragomir preferred the silence of the quaint bar. he refused to deal with the crazed teenagers that prowled the streets and invaded the popular joints contained within the crescent moon district. no, he enjoyed the simple comfort of his preferred bar. plus he could escape from the world while within the smoke filled place, and while the smoke grated upon his nerves and left him unable to completely relax, he found solace within the soft bluesy music and the bitter taste of his chosen poison.
screeching reached his ears, the unfortunate consequence of a metal object sliding against the wooden floor. two stools separated him from the unknown male, whose body faced the bartender and the displayed bottles of alcohol. strangers walked in and out of the bar on a daily basis, and dragomir refused to welcome the visitors, knowing that they would never return. people required the liquid luck that alcohol provided and would venture to even the shadiest establishment to unearth a gem. as a creature of habit, the blackette contained his patronage at one place, allowing rumors to spread about him and finding a number of prospective clients from amongst the strangers that meandered into the bar. ruby red hued eyes roved over the few other individuals that inhabited the space. their whispered words did not penetrate the thick blanket of silence that enveloped the bar, so when the bell chimed once again, everyone turned their attention to the culprit, who nervously stepped over the threshold.
dragomir heaved a huff of annoyance, downing the rest of his chosen drink and then shifting slightly to herald the bartender; however, at the same moment, the nearby stranger lifted his head, calling out to the master before the dark haired fighter could open his mouth. a scowl settled over his visage as his grip tightened on the glass. he mentally coached himself, reciting various techniques meant to ease anger. in a single motion, he rose to his feet, traversing the few feet between himself and the unknown male. he plopped down next to the man and met the bartender’s gaze with a raised brow. with a subtle shake of his head, the master pivoted to walk over to the slightly shivering male, whose entrance drew such a cold reception. care for a shot? he inquired, eyeing the man from his peripheral vision and readying himself to gain the master’s attention. a fanged grin stretched across his tanned countenance as he awaited a response.
There were few things that ever survived his fury. Drakon has a very thin line of patients and people tended to understand just how to snip, cut and walk right through that bluntly obvious line. It was because of this that the man often lost his temper to very stupid things and tended to do things that many thought he would regret later. Drakon never regretted anything, if anything he was ready to fight for whatever he wanted and he didn't look back at his past. After all there was no end for him it was for that fact that his name was born.
He was endless. He had no ending. He could not be taken down. He was endless.
So, earlier that night it had happened once again, idiots had tried to end him.. they had been foolishly mistaken. The man did not know the difference between kind and demonic. For he himself had often been referred to as a demon, a demon of something that couldn't be stopped a eternal demon that never ended or changed its ways. Such a demon did not deal with the likes of people that crossed its path foolishly and never again returned to the light of the day.
So as the man entered the bar all eyes turned to him. He could feel his form shake only lightly, but no it wasn't from the cold, or from anything as trivial. No, he had killed... and he had enjoyed every moment of it. Blood had stained his hands and the twin pistols that hide themselves tightly at his sides the cold bite of metal on his skin a calming melody. So a black heavy coat covered his entire body as he knew people stared at the scars that covered his form, and could be found down his entire overbearing body. Wounds that he couldn't remember where they had come from, and wounds that only made him more proud.
Adding one meant accomplishing his name, and becoming even more endless. So the large male moved past everyone to a corner of the bar where he was sure to be left alone and quickly called for the bartender not really caring about the others that littered the small bar. The scared male ordered something but it was only a moment before another bulky form like his own moved his way before sitting next to him where he had wished to be alone. However what he spoke of caused a slight smile and another bone chilling shiver to run down his spin. He could feel the power radiating off this man and that enticed him.
"If you wish."
Was all the other replied, perhaps it would be best to find out what this man was after before letting his hand move back to the cold bite of metal on his side. Oh how his body chilled for a real fight and a real opponent .. something this man gave off with or without him knowing.
with the distance between himself and the stranger decreased, dragomir could sense the power rolling off the other’s frame, and it delighted his darker side. his hands itched to wrap around the hilt of his sword; however, with practiced ease, he ignored the slight trembling of his limbs. the blackette settled into a lifestyle that revolved around languid investigations and brief moments of delightful adrenaline rushes. during his time as an undercover cop, he thrived on the depravity of the underworld, delighting in death and mayhem. his time in the darkness of society tainted him, but he revealed in the taint, recognizing his baser desires and listening to their seductive call. his co-workers questioned his ability to slip in and out of the underworld with ease. he never responded to their inquiries, but with each trip, he lost more and more of his sanity, falling deeper and deeper into self-destruction.
when he abandoned the force, dragomir still hungered for the energy of the underworld, and as he traversed the world, the dark haired detective threw himself into the shadier aspect of his chosen profession. he enjoyed the hunt, relished the feeling of victory, and loved to spend the afternoons with adrenaline rushing through his system. the familiar thrill of danger awoke his primal side. the ravenette wanted to test his companion’s skill, and he desired to see blood spill—either his own or the stranger’s. nothing mattered to the man as he lifted a hand off the counter, beckoning for the bartender with a flick of his wrist. the man scampered over quickly, for the old geezer managed to hone his sense of danger and recognized the threat of their combined capabilities. the master preferred to see his establishment without gapping wounds, meaning that he needed to instantly cater to their expressed needs.
skilled hands poured the requested beverage, situating two shot glasses before the men and then hastily retreating to the other end of the bar. prayers escaped the man as he barely refrained from ducking out of sight. fear mingled with the heightening sense fo danger; however, dragomir kept his attention locked on his claimed companion, wanting to see if he would respond to the oppressive atmosphere of the smoke laden room. tanned fingers wrapped around his glass, lifting the object off the counter and holding it in front of his mouth. seconds ticked away as he waited, for he desired to draw out the moment. ticking echoed through the room from the ancient grandfather clock, announcing the progression of time as the male remained motionless and idle. the alcohol rushed down his throat as he consumed the beverage, having deemed the time appropriate. his mind cleared with the liquid courage in his system.
the cup collided with the bar, nearly shattering due to the pressure applied to the fragile object. silent laughter caused his frame to quiver as he leaned forward, bending his head to hide his expression from sight. want another? dragomir queried while lifting his gaze away from the counter, connecting the jewel toned eyes with the worried gaze of the master. the nameless man barely managed to contain the whimper that threatened to escape him; however, despite the master's obvious unease, the dark haired investigator realized that the danger still lurked behind a civil façade. the lingering sense of danger existed due to their clashing auras, and the situation would continue to intensify as they interacted. perhaps he could goad the man into a physical confrontation. the idea amused him and elicited faint chuckles from the fighter, driving him to lower his head again and reconnect his gaze with the empty depths of his shot glass.
It was obvious, the minute this man came over into his presence that he sensed the power just like he had. This man was not ordinary and perhaps that was what kept the scared man's obvious attention. After all, Drakon got bored rather easily so to hkeep his attention for long was a feat in itself. This man seemed like he could be one of the rare few that managed to keep his attention rather easily. There was however, the bartender that was beginning to set off a nerve in the other.
Damn humans.
They were afraid of everything and the smell of fear wreaked off of this guy. If he hadn't have been serving his drink it was probably easy enough to tell that the man would have liked to throw him across the room. Drakon however, refrained from doing so as long as he didn't manage to spill his drink or anything. Ah yes, back to the stranger who seemed to have sensed the change in the aura's the two gave off against one another. It was obvious that they were clashing, even without the two barely moving or saying anything to one another. A true fighter could sense these things without a single word being spoken.
As the alcohol was poured into his cup he barely glanced at his new companion as thick fingers wrapped around the fragile glass and within the moment the alcohol moving down his throat. Ah yes, that burn.. he lived for that taste that it left in his mouth and throat. Unlike the other man who seemed to play with his cup before finally downing it as the bartender quickly scurried away for his puny life. Probably a good idea to stay as far away from the two as possible. Even those that weren't fighters would be able to feel just the aura the two put off when within such a close proximity of each other.
His companion seemed to stare down into his glass that he nearly broke upon the counter. "Depends, is there a particular reason your interested in me fighter?" he said flatly. They were both in tune with the other so it wasn't hard to tell that this one was a fighter. Even with himself being a sacrifice he had the ability to kill on his own without his real fighter and pair. "Or will your aura speak for you, with your threat against me that is so bluntly obvious." his words came out in a half grumble.
While the thought enthralled him, he really just wanted to drink before he ended up letting his temper rage lose once again.
