Post by Dillon Kyne on Dec 16, 2013 13:17:42 GMT -8
The news that power had been brought back to the world of man hit everyone like a landslide, almost quite literally in fact. In a rush, there was a newly established form of enforcement that was given a "no tolerance" rule when it came to the many gangs and factions that had more than likely banded together over the past two years. Dillon had kept away from allying with any of these groups, but that didn't mean that he was going to join the new regime that was acting like some sort of New World Government. As far as he was concerned, his lifestyle was at risk with the bringing of power and "order" to the world, and he was far from a fan of this.
Ever since he received his family journal from his grandfather, things had started to eat away at him from the inside. Lucid dreams, and nightmares, had plagued his nights, and random instances of that phantom voice had haunted him during his days. Not that he let any of it actually get to him, but he could feel something surging within him; something that had been trying to get out ever since his fateful last days in Ireland. It was foreign, yet familiar, and it grew with every hit of drugs or shot of alcohol he took. The changes were slight, but he noticed them: his eyes would often shift, and the negative effects of narcotics were beginning to wane. He was truly becoming something new, something better. Or so he hoped.
On this day, Dillon had wandered into Dragon territory in the hopes of having a little chat with one of his only friends in the state: Kazuya. His body shook almost violently as he slowly strolled through the almost bustling streets, which was a major difference from the last time he'd been there. The world seemed to be changing as quickly as he was, and he could tell that a number of the other passerbys were giving him the stink eye. Was it because he obviously looked like a junkie looking for a fix, or was there mistrust in anyone that wasn't known to be a dragon? He could only guess both at the moment, but they were the last things on his mind. He needed answers, help even, with figuring out what was happening. He wasn't throwing fireballs or anything yet, but a major change was on the horizon.
He'd raise his arm up to catch the corner of a building as he took the time to regain his composure, at least what little he could salvage. Luckily for him, Kazuya's building was just around the corner... Or so he thought. As he turned the corner, his eyes fell upon an empty lot. It was as if the Dragon's Fang had never been there. Dillon was at a loss, stumbling over to a bench that stood outside over where the walls of the bar once were. He took a seat on the cold bench, his body continuing to shiver and shake from the lack of illicit chemicals. Sure, he had a pipe and small baggy of heroine, but he had forced himself to not smoke. It was getting unbearable, and if he didn't get someone to talk to or a fix soon, he'd loose it. For now, he'd just sit there, hoping in vain that Kazuya and his bar would appear our of thin air.
Ever since he received his family journal from his grandfather, things had started to eat away at him from the inside. Lucid dreams, and nightmares, had plagued his nights, and random instances of that phantom voice had haunted him during his days. Not that he let any of it actually get to him, but he could feel something surging within him; something that had been trying to get out ever since his fateful last days in Ireland. It was foreign, yet familiar, and it grew with every hit of drugs or shot of alcohol he took. The changes were slight, but he noticed them: his eyes would often shift, and the negative effects of narcotics were beginning to wane. He was truly becoming something new, something better. Or so he hoped.
On this day, Dillon had wandered into Dragon territory in the hopes of having a little chat with one of his only friends in the state: Kazuya. His body shook almost violently as he slowly strolled through the almost bustling streets, which was a major difference from the last time he'd been there. The world seemed to be changing as quickly as he was, and he could tell that a number of the other passerbys were giving him the stink eye. Was it because he obviously looked like a junkie looking for a fix, or was there mistrust in anyone that wasn't known to be a dragon? He could only guess both at the moment, but they were the last things on his mind. He needed answers, help even, with figuring out what was happening. He wasn't throwing fireballs or anything yet, but a major change was on the horizon.
He'd raise his arm up to catch the corner of a building as he took the time to regain his composure, at least what little he could salvage. Luckily for him, Kazuya's building was just around the corner... Or so he thought. As he turned the corner, his eyes fell upon an empty lot. It was as if the Dragon's Fang had never been there. Dillon was at a loss, stumbling over to a bench that stood outside over where the walls of the bar once were. He took a seat on the cold bench, his body continuing to shiver and shake from the lack of illicit chemicals. Sure, he had a pipe and small baggy of heroine, but he had forced himself to not smoke. It was getting unbearable, and if he didn't get someone to talk to or a fix soon, he'd loose it. For now, he'd just sit there, hoping in vain that Kazuya and his bar would appear our of thin air.
