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Old 05-11-2012, 08:41 PM
Scorpodael Scorpodael is offline
Join Date: Dec 2009
Posts: 83

Jack stepped off the bus, looking up at the city, barely even feeling the heat over a sense of foreboding... He didn't much like the desert, but he HATED this city. Full of broken hearts and broken dreams, empty promises of wealth beyond imagining if you'd just stay for one more hand, one more spin, pull the lever one more time... Out of money? You have something someone will buy. Your clothes. Your dignity. Your family. Your soul. Hopelessness dressed up in glitz and glamour, a siren call to the rich and the ignorant, the unlucky and the just plain stupid. A perfect place, in fact, for unsavory sorts to find desperate people. To do their bidding for a couple of bucks. To be their host. To be their prey.

He shook his head. His thoughts were turning to the macabre... The desert was a bad place for him. So he started walking, wandering first into a bookstore, coming out with a thick paperback with an orange cover. It was a dictionary, but not of the usual sort- it was a dictionary of symbols. Might help identify what he was going to be dealing with if the folks in charge weren't going to be straightforward. Hell, it was a useful reference even if they told him exactly what to expect. Then he closes his eyes, and starts to wander about the sidewalks, letting himself be drawn in by his other senses, The sense for other children of the gods, and his sense for heartbeats... when he opened his eyes next, he was standing about 10 feet behind Deann, staring at the cafe, book in hand.