Post by dissidiarequiem on Sept 27, 2009 0:35:03 GMT -7
Rejoice, for all the glory of the heavens are upon you.
No, that didn't quite work. It was too fluid, too verbose. It sounded too...light. Light didn't make right, that was might. Might would be what they had, what they would use to overpower those that were weaker and weed out the filth, the scum, the distasteful to look upon. And my how distasteful...'peace' bred ignorance, and ignorance bred weakness. Weakness he would crush and wipe out. How long had the werewolves maintained and dominated their foothold in London? The lesser of the ranks were ripe for the taking, and best to clean the streets with their own rather than let the vampires have a treat. It would also send a clear message to all those above that should they stray, they too would be next on the list.
The list...a thing passed down from those within the upper echelons of the system, given to Reinhold himself to bring to his little 'group'. Group they called it. No. This was a pack, a pack he was building, and if he had to show every single dumb son of a bitch that might want to challenge him that -he- was the one fit to lead. He'd bump them onto the list in their own blood if he had to. Pankraz was not one for rules, which made him a very dangerous man to some, a loose cannon to others, and an annoyance to most. For now. This would be the ground floor of something magnificent...
Something genuine.
Wisdom is for those who cannot draw sword.
The place was simple, and the whispers he knew had made their way through the ranks that an open call was laid out for those who wished to join the efforts of a special task pack, created for working directly with the higher ups to clean up the streets of London. Anyone with a half a brain could see this would be a good chance to get a foot in the door of moving up in the world, and anyone without could see it as something to do. It was a no-brainer, to at least come and check things out...Looking never hurt, now did it? Looking, now there was something fun.
Perched on the edge of a fountain was the man, clear in the center of the courtyard he'd spread to meet at, two hours before the time. It was two hours until the sun reached it's full zenith, and that made it the perfect time to organize this meeting uninterrupted, for the most part, and in a fully open area. Someone must think the man mad. Actually, glimpse twice at him, and his grin, and no doubt you'll think the same. Jeans that were black as the night sky hung tight around his hips, a little low slung, but not much. They did little to hide the full legs beneath, showing he had muscle indeed in them. On his chest sat a dark red shirt, the color of freshly spilt blood, which made freshly spilt blood disappear on it, until it dried, but alas, he had another shirt for that. Black boots, thick and leather were set one on the ground, the other on the edge of the fountain he sat on, his knee cocked at forty-five degrees, and his arm laying over it, not a thing on it looking a little pale, but that was heritage. Heritage apparent in his dishwater, but still blonde hair, and dark blue eyes hidden behind a pair of cheap thin sunglasses...No, he wasn't the perfect specimen, but he liked to kill. Wasn't that enough?
While there was no banner proclaiming the spot's legitimacy as the location for the meeting of the pack, Pankraz still had an eye trained on every little passerby, evaluating them. Licking his lips. Blood...no, he was no vampire, but the liquid had a certain taste to it from a fresh kill. Mm. Maybe he was a little more hungry than he should be, but that was something he could handle later...wouldn't do very well for setting up the pack if he was feasting on a fresh human carcass in the middle of the courtyard. No, instead, he would be patient for once in his life. As those looking to climb, those looking to follow, and those looking to have a good time would crawl out of the woodwork for the offer of all of the above.
Strength is for those willing to rise up and take it.
There we go.
No, that didn't quite work. It was too fluid, too verbose. It sounded too...light. Light didn't make right, that was might. Might would be what they had, what they would use to overpower those that were weaker and weed out the filth, the scum, the distasteful to look upon. And my how distasteful...'peace' bred ignorance, and ignorance bred weakness. Weakness he would crush and wipe out. How long had the werewolves maintained and dominated their foothold in London? The lesser of the ranks were ripe for the taking, and best to clean the streets with their own rather than let the vampires have a treat. It would also send a clear message to all those above that should they stray, they too would be next on the list.
The list...a thing passed down from those within the upper echelons of the system, given to Reinhold himself to bring to his little 'group'. Group they called it. No. This was a pack, a pack he was building, and if he had to show every single dumb son of a bitch that might want to challenge him that -he- was the one fit to lead. He'd bump them onto the list in their own blood if he had to. Pankraz was not one for rules, which made him a very dangerous man to some, a loose cannon to others, and an annoyance to most. For now. This would be the ground floor of something magnificent...
Something genuine.
Wisdom is for those who cannot draw sword.
The place was simple, and the whispers he knew had made their way through the ranks that an open call was laid out for those who wished to join the efforts of a special task pack, created for working directly with the higher ups to clean up the streets of London. Anyone with a half a brain could see this would be a good chance to get a foot in the door of moving up in the world, and anyone without could see it as something to do. It was a no-brainer, to at least come and check things out...Looking never hurt, now did it? Looking, now there was something fun.
Perched on the edge of a fountain was the man, clear in the center of the courtyard he'd spread to meet at, two hours before the time. It was two hours until the sun reached it's full zenith, and that made it the perfect time to organize this meeting uninterrupted, for the most part, and in a fully open area. Someone must think the man mad. Actually, glimpse twice at him, and his grin, and no doubt you'll think the same. Jeans that were black as the night sky hung tight around his hips, a little low slung, but not much. They did little to hide the full legs beneath, showing he had muscle indeed in them. On his chest sat a dark red shirt, the color of freshly spilt blood, which made freshly spilt blood disappear on it, until it dried, but alas, he had another shirt for that. Black boots, thick and leather were set one on the ground, the other on the edge of the fountain he sat on, his knee cocked at forty-five degrees, and his arm laying over it, not a thing on it looking a little pale, but that was heritage. Heritage apparent in his dishwater, but still blonde hair, and dark blue eyes hidden behind a pair of cheap thin sunglasses...No, he wasn't the perfect specimen, but he liked to kill. Wasn't that enough?
While there was no banner proclaiming the spot's legitimacy as the location for the meeting of the pack, Pankraz still had an eye trained on every little passerby, evaluating them. Licking his lips. Blood...no, he was no vampire, but the liquid had a certain taste to it from a fresh kill. Mm. Maybe he was a little more hungry than he should be, but that was something he could handle later...wouldn't do very well for setting up the pack if he was feasting on a fresh human carcass in the middle of the courtyard. No, instead, he would be patient for once in his life. As those looking to climb, those looking to follow, and those looking to have a good time would crawl out of the woodwork for the offer of all of the above.
Strength is for those willing to rise up and take it.
There we go.