Post by fallenangel91 on Apr 6, 2007 9:06:35 GMT -5
This is something Kenny has been begging me to write for a while now so I thought I'd shut him up and give everyone a preview at the same time. Enjoy.
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Zerethal was a wasteland. A city wasteland to be exact. It was several miles in diameter and it was always raining. Always. Actually you were lucky if it rained because that meant it was a warm day. A more correct statement would be to say it was always snowing, the same depressing black snow every single day. But when it rained, it poured. Today was one of those days.
Twelve-year-old Xane Roth stood at the window of his apartment, just watching it rain. He was an orphan who chose to live alone and not in the confines of an orphanage. Now you might be thinking to yourself, why doesn't the law step in and do something about this? Well you see, the problem with Zerethal was that there was no law. The closest thing to a government were the crime syndicates that ran everything. It was truly a city of anarchy.
Xane looked at his stomach when it growled. It had been about a week since the last time he ate and he didn't think he could go much longer. When his stomach growled again he made up his mind. As he went to get dressed he thought about what he was about to do. He didn't like to steal if he could avoid it, but if you go a week without food, you don't have much of a choice.
When he was fully dressed his attire consisted of a pair of blue jeans with several rips in them, a pair of dark brown boots, and a very large black shirt. With his clothes on he reached under the bed in the corner of the room and pulled out a pistol and a dull, dented, and sheath-less katana. He stuffed the pistol in his pocket and slid the katana through his rearmost belt-loop and walked towards the door. By the door stood a coat rack and on it was a tattered and torn brown cloak. He slid the cloak over his shoulders and left.
The rain poured down onto him as he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. After having done that, he walked out from under the archway in front of his apartment, and proceeded down the street. As he rounded a corner, he saw a figure in a black trenchcoat standing in front of him, silhouetted by the rain.
The man spoke to him, "You're name is Xane correct?"
"It's impolite to ask someone's name without giving your own first," Xane commented slyly.
"You're a clever one aren't you?" the man said with a chuckle, "Unfortunately, I cannot do you the honor of telling you my name."
"Well then I have no business with you," Xane turned around to walk away only to be met with another man in a trenchcoat.
"You see, we need you to come with us," said the first man.
"And if I don't want to?"
"I wasn't asking."
Xane turned to run but to his dismay, there was a person in a trenchcoat in every direction.
"It would be so much easier if you would just come peacfully," the man spoke, "There's no need for a fight."
Xane pulled the pistol out of his pocket and aimed it at the man.
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Zerethal was a wasteland. A city wasteland to be exact. It was several miles in diameter and it was always raining. Always. Actually you were lucky if it rained because that meant it was a warm day. A more correct statement would be to say it was always snowing, the same depressing black snow every single day. But when it rained, it poured. Today was one of those days.
Twelve-year-old Xane Roth stood at the window of his apartment, just watching it rain. He was an orphan who chose to live alone and not in the confines of an orphanage. Now you might be thinking to yourself, why doesn't the law step in and do something about this? Well you see, the problem with Zerethal was that there was no law. The closest thing to a government were the crime syndicates that ran everything. It was truly a city of anarchy.
Xane looked at his stomach when it growled. It had been about a week since the last time he ate and he didn't think he could go much longer. When his stomach growled again he made up his mind. As he went to get dressed he thought about what he was about to do. He didn't like to steal if he could avoid it, but if you go a week without food, you don't have much of a choice.
When he was fully dressed his attire consisted of a pair of blue jeans with several rips in them, a pair of dark brown boots, and a very large black shirt. With his clothes on he reached under the bed in the corner of the room and pulled out a pistol and a dull, dented, and sheath-less katana. He stuffed the pistol in his pocket and slid the katana through his rearmost belt-loop and walked towards the door. By the door stood a coat rack and on it was a tattered and torn brown cloak. He slid the cloak over his shoulders and left.
The rain poured down onto him as he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. After having done that, he walked out from under the archway in front of his apartment, and proceeded down the street. As he rounded a corner, he saw a figure in a black trenchcoat standing in front of him, silhouetted by the rain.
The man spoke to him, "You're name is Xane correct?"
"It's impolite to ask someone's name without giving your own first," Xane commented slyly.
"You're a clever one aren't you?" the man said with a chuckle, "Unfortunately, I cannot do you the honor of telling you my name."
"Well then I have no business with you," Xane turned around to walk away only to be met with another man in a trenchcoat.
"You see, we need you to come with us," said the first man.
"And if I don't want to?"
"I wasn't asking."
Xane turned to run but to his dismay, there was a person in a trenchcoat in every direction.
"It would be so much easier if you would just come peacfully," the man spoke, "There's no need for a fight."
Xane pulled the pistol out of his pocket and aimed it at the man.