Post by Craze on Nov 28, 2004 0:50:23 GMT -5
Axel settled his drink upon smooth shading of the table, a rectangular table made of a strong, firm wood. He rests his forearms on it and rests his head on the back of the chair. He then lifts his right hand and rubs his forehead, wiping the sweat from his brow as he recollects his thoughts for the future he is about to proceed.
I screwed up. I screwed up big time. It was all wrong, all the wrong choices. Nothing could’ve saved him from my anger, not even my will. I should have had the faintest thought of control. But, alas, it fell and I have to make up for it.
He leans back forward and takes his wide brimmed hat that rested upon his dirty brown hair and sets it on the table’s top.
Will Gabay, a.k.a. Fire Holder, “Number Four.” He proceeds to rub his eyes. He wasn’t there, I hear, but was still part of his group, his filthy mount of assassins. Still, it is a monstrosity of disgrace to what they did to me, the way they all betrayed him and left me there fatherless. Let’s settle this, Gabay, only you could’ve known where Neoh dwells, where I seek the end of this horrible journey. I need that data; I need the dwelling. I hear that you keep a list of all your past bosses, and that you keep in touch just in case your next “contract,” as they call it, may ask for it. You don’t let your feelings of the past get to you, only the rave of the present and wave of the reward. Axel shakes his head and takes a slow sip of his awaiting drink.
He starts to remember everything he can about “The Fourth,” pouring his mind into a ring of state of brooding. The door of the particular pub opens to a man dressed in a black and crimson garment, a jacket almost suit-like yet loose near the bottom, and in pants that appeared not to fit the man of his length but more to his tastes. He was accompanied by a man richly dressed in formal attire, of dark robes, almost like a valiant display of armor in dim light, and with a brown-ish suit under them. The face of this man was one of ancient but powerful features like those of high rank; Axel wondered why bodyguards didn’t accompany him if he was so powerful a figure. But, Axel immediately recognized the man in black and crimson garments as Fire Holder from his trademark grin. That grin, the piercing eyes, the fiery, grazed back red hair above the youthful face, all of it is the mark of his identity. The man in the robes, however, is not of Axel’s memory, but he can suspect that he is a new job for Fire Holder. The pair walk towards the tender of the pub and ask him some questions that are inaudible to the ear. The tender points to the stairs with his fat finger and the two figures of Axel’s prey lead themselves upstairs to a quiet room for their own sake of privacy.
I screwed up. I screwed up big time. It was all wrong, all the wrong choices. Nothing could’ve saved him from my anger, not even my will. I should have had the faintest thought of control. But, alas, it fell and I have to make up for it.
He leans back forward and takes his wide brimmed hat that rested upon his dirty brown hair and sets it on the table’s top.
Will Gabay, a.k.a. Fire Holder, “Number Four.” He proceeds to rub his eyes. He wasn’t there, I hear, but was still part of his group, his filthy mount of assassins. Still, it is a monstrosity of disgrace to what they did to me, the way they all betrayed him and left me there fatherless. Let’s settle this, Gabay, only you could’ve known where Neoh dwells, where I seek the end of this horrible journey. I need that data; I need the dwelling. I hear that you keep a list of all your past bosses, and that you keep in touch just in case your next “contract,” as they call it, may ask for it. You don’t let your feelings of the past get to you, only the rave of the present and wave of the reward. Axel shakes his head and takes a slow sip of his awaiting drink.
He starts to remember everything he can about “The Fourth,” pouring his mind into a ring of state of brooding. The door of the particular pub opens to a man dressed in a black and crimson garment, a jacket almost suit-like yet loose near the bottom, and in pants that appeared not to fit the man of his length but more to his tastes. He was accompanied by a man richly dressed in formal attire, of dark robes, almost like a valiant display of armor in dim light, and with a brown-ish suit under them. The face of this man was one of ancient but powerful features like those of high rank; Axel wondered why bodyguards didn’t accompany him if he was so powerful a figure. But, Axel immediately recognized the man in black and crimson garments as Fire Holder from his trademark grin. That grin, the piercing eyes, the fiery, grazed back red hair above the youthful face, all of it is the mark of his identity. The man in the robes, however, is not of Axel’s memory, but he can suspect that he is a new job for Fire Holder. The pair walk towards the tender of the pub and ask him some questions that are inaudible to the ear. The tender points to the stairs with his fat finger and the two figures of Axel’s prey lead themselves upstairs to a quiet room for their own sake of privacy.
