Axario
29-11-2004, 18:31
Edward Claron walked into his penthouse in the capital and flopped down on his bed. Nothing had been going as he planned, his world was crashing down around him. Suddenly he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and realized the shadows around him were moving. He was quickly surrounded by 12 black hooded figures.
"Edward Claron, for betrayal of the Disciples and leaving the Twelve, you are hearby sentenced to death! Have you any words?" said the leader of the 12 figures, each of which now drew an ornate knife, each one different from the other and each one inscribed with a different number.
"I only wish to know who has replaced me." Number 9 stepped forward and lowered the hood. "Oh, that's ironic. I bet you've been waiting for this, haven't you?"
"You have no idea," said Number 9 as he and the other 11 pushed their blades into Claron and he collapsed to the ground. Satisfied with their work, they left as stealthily as they had come.
Edward Claron dragged himself over to a small table in the room after the hooded figures had left. They had miracuously managed to miss his vital organs, and he knew this would buy him at least a couple minutes. He couldn't allow them to get away with this, so he scrawled out a message intended for the only person crazy enough to believe the Disciples would be behind this...
-
Aron Christopher was just walking off the stage from one of his campaign speeches when his aide approached him.
"Sir, something's happened."
-
Christopher walked into the room accompained by the head of the FBI, Jimmy Marone. He had flown as quickly as possible to Danversia where Claron had died. He was sad to see his friend Edward Claron lying dead on the floor. One of the Royal Police approached him.
"Sir, we felt you should be called because he left you a note, here."
Christopher read the note, and immediately knew Claron was trying to tell him something.
To Pres AC:
(Remember Andisof)
Once the 9th Dungeon Master, now 9 Nicks a Pest
Look in the books, but do not pass search, do not collect $49856093737503495
find them
ooc: don't post yet, I don't have time to complete, will do later
"Edward Claron, for betrayal of the Disciples and leaving the Twelve, you are hearby sentenced to death! Have you any words?" said the leader of the 12 figures, each of which now drew an ornate knife, each one different from the other and each one inscribed with a different number.
"I only wish to know who has replaced me." Number 9 stepped forward and lowered the hood. "Oh, that's ironic. I bet you've been waiting for this, haven't you?"
"You have no idea," said Number 9 as he and the other 11 pushed their blades into Claron and he collapsed to the ground. Satisfied with their work, they left as stealthily as they had come.
Edward Claron dragged himself over to a small table in the room after the hooded figures had left. They had miracuously managed to miss his vital organs, and he knew this would buy him at least a couple minutes. He couldn't allow them to get away with this, so he scrawled out a message intended for the only person crazy enough to believe the Disciples would be behind this...
-
Aron Christopher was just walking off the stage from one of his campaign speeches when his aide approached him.
"Sir, something's happened."
-
Christopher walked into the room accompained by the head of the FBI, Jimmy Marone. He had flown as quickly as possible to Danversia where Claron had died. He was sad to see his friend Edward Claron lying dead on the floor. One of the Royal Police approached him.
"Sir, we felt you should be called because he left you a note, here."
Christopher read the note, and immediately knew Claron was trying to tell him something.
To Pres AC:
(Remember Andisof)
Once the 9th Dungeon Master, now 9 Nicks a Pest
Look in the books, but do not pass search, do not collect $49856093737503495
find them
ooc: don't post yet, I don't have time to complete, will do later