CHAPTER 1
Beneath the City
Brings the authority a city corrupt of vermin,
Brings the master of the underground a market for your corpse,
Brings the shadows a manfool playing both worlds.
***************************************************
A pale wind greeted the discarded papers on the coarse street pavement and sent them in a
melody entranced dance in the dusty sky until they settled unknowingly onto the boot of a man.
In the mouth of an unnoticed shadow stood Garrett, a man of unmatched skill in the art of
thievery and deception. Thievery was never a stable job and the lone thief found himself in debt
to his impatient landlord. A pity that so many should pass by him by on the streets and not even
acknowledge his existence let alone know of the unsurmountable debt they had, in fact, owed
him. Not a single day ever went by when Garrett did not think about how close Death's very
grasp on him had been in his efforts in destroying the prophecy that of a God. Garrett, a silent
and unknown prophecy written in the books of the Keepers was sulking right next to their very
eyes everyday unnoticed, and yet they had no clue like the next cattle on a butcher's list. A waste
of space is what humans were, overcrowding the corrupt city streets with a facade grin on their
faces. They were fake and obeyed fake rules that of the their own corrupt brothers. That was the
real crime. Never should Garrett commit a crime that reprehensible. His friends were the
shadows who, unlike his human friends of the dead past, would never betray him. For a shadow
was dark, invisible, and unnoticed which were all the traits that Garrett had acquired and trusted
for survival. Trust was not an option and to trust anyone would mean he would be agreeing to
death. Only your own self can be trusted and everyone else, the cattle that they are who are
rounded up by their corrupt brothers, are nothing more than meaningless lairs, swindlers, whore
on the corner, or a fool believing that there is hope in a world built on false hope.
Garrett stood patiently as he waited for the three guards in front of the Burrick Pub to finish
off their last sips of their fire water to leave for Lord Clyde's mansion. Garrett knew most of the
guards in the city for he had been stealing the keys off their belts recently, keeping them for
insurance in case he needed to get in the places he needed quickly. Garrett had established the
Key to the City all in a weeks worth of routine thievery, stashing them under the plywood of his
room. It was because of this that Garrett would be heading into a well guarded and supposedly
secret underground meeting of the people with the real power in the city. They were a group who
held an underground gambling network under the city streets which were open to any fool who
thought they could make money fast. They practically owned the authorities who were bribed
daily with gambling earnings. Getting the key, let alone knowing anyone with a key for the many
entrances was near impossible. Their metallic doors obeyed no lock pick and Garrett was
fortunate to have stumbled onto a guard with one of the few keys made. Who would had thought
that a simple sly of hands in a random guard's pocket would cause his untimely death? With so
few keys made to their underground gambling network, the guard who lost the key was beaten up
until he bleed from his eyes because the risk of the key ending up in the wrong hands. The guard
had been beaten so badly he could not find the strength to get up from the cold rough street floor.
Unable to cooperate with their demands of getting up, they disemboweled his head and dragged it
with them into the meat packing room.
Garrett knew little of what sort of gambling went on but with so many people with so much
money on them, Garrett would be getting his debt money and a little extra for later in no time.
They were careless enough to go to such a place, it was only reasonable to steal the money away
from them before the underground lords did. The three guards who had just disappeared from
view left the Burrick Pub unguarded, much to a bartender's dismay as he did supply the guards
with free liquor as they pleased. The bartender had left his post and when he did Garrett swiftly
made his way into the bar. The lights were far too bright and Garrett felt uneasy but he knew he
would make it to the nearby shadow before anyone would notice he was even there. Stepping
into the shadow, Garrett seemed to have become one with it, his black cloak melding into the
abyss and his stillness matching that of the it's form. Garrett took out the key from his belt
pouch and placed it into the metal door that heartily accepted the key. With minimum noise, the
thief crept into the crack of the door and closed it behind him. Before him was a staircase
descending to the underground gambling network, no doubt. Garrett may have known the city
streets and roofs better than anyone but the world under the city would be a challenge. Garrett
was confident, however, and his hands grew impatient from their emptiness of the goods he
would soon be partaking.
Garrett's acute hearing sensed a large amount of people close by. The tapping of the thief's
boots rippled off the stone floor and made slight echos in the long hallway. Sewers from above
leaked water that dripped into a slow decent to the hallway's ground. A door plagued with
splinters and rotting wood stood in Garrett's way.
"Let's see what makes the people whisper, why the people look down when an underground
Lord passes by, and what makes the guards bow down to their wishes," Garrett thought to
himself. With his attack-ready sword in grasp just behind his cloak and a couple of flash bombs
hanging from his belt, the thief was hardly worried of being subdued by any thugs that might
come in his way. Garrett reached out for the door and opened it.
Beneath the City
Brings the authority a city corrupt of vermin,
Brings the master of the underground a market for your corpse,
Brings the shadows a manfool playing both worlds.
***************************************************
A pale wind greeted the discarded papers on the coarse street pavement and sent them in a
melody entranced dance in the dusty sky until they settled unknowingly onto the boot of a man.
In the mouth of an unnoticed shadow stood Garrett, a man of unmatched skill in the art of
thievery and deception. Thievery was never a stable job and the lone thief found himself in debt
to his impatient landlord. A pity that so many should pass by him by on the streets and not even
acknowledge his existence let alone know of the unsurmountable debt they had, in fact, owed
him. Not a single day ever went by when Garrett did not think about how close Death's very
grasp on him had been in his efforts in destroying the prophecy that of a God. Garrett, a silent
and unknown prophecy written in the books of the Keepers was sulking right next to their very
eyes everyday unnoticed, and yet they had no clue like the next cattle on a butcher's list. A waste
of space is what humans were, overcrowding the corrupt city streets with a facade grin on their
faces. They were fake and obeyed fake rules that of the their own corrupt brothers. That was the
real crime. Never should Garrett commit a crime that reprehensible. His friends were the
shadows who, unlike his human friends of the dead past, would never betray him. For a shadow
was dark, invisible, and unnoticed which were all the traits that Garrett had acquired and trusted
for survival. Trust was not an option and to trust anyone would mean he would be agreeing to
death. Only your own self can be trusted and everyone else, the cattle that they are who are
rounded up by their corrupt brothers, are nothing more than meaningless lairs, swindlers, whore
on the corner, or a fool believing that there is hope in a world built on false hope.
Garrett stood patiently as he waited for the three guards in front of the Burrick Pub to finish
off their last sips of their fire water to leave for Lord Clyde's mansion. Garrett knew most of the
guards in the city for he had been stealing the keys off their belts recently, keeping them for
insurance in case he needed to get in the places he needed quickly. Garrett had established the
Key to the City all in a weeks worth of routine thievery, stashing them under the plywood of his
room. It was because of this that Garrett would be heading into a well guarded and supposedly
secret underground meeting of the people with the real power in the city. They were a group who
held an underground gambling network under the city streets which were open to any fool who
thought they could make money fast. They practically owned the authorities who were bribed
daily with gambling earnings. Getting the key, let alone knowing anyone with a key for the many
entrances was near impossible. Their metallic doors obeyed no lock pick and Garrett was
fortunate to have stumbled onto a guard with one of the few keys made. Who would had thought
that a simple sly of hands in a random guard's pocket would cause his untimely death? With so
few keys made to their underground gambling network, the guard who lost the key was beaten up
until he bleed from his eyes because the risk of the key ending up in the wrong hands. The guard
had been beaten so badly he could not find the strength to get up from the cold rough street floor.
Unable to cooperate with their demands of getting up, they disemboweled his head and dragged it
with them into the meat packing room.
Garrett knew little of what sort of gambling went on but with so many people with so much
money on them, Garrett would be getting his debt money and a little extra for later in no time.
They were careless enough to go to such a place, it was only reasonable to steal the money away
from them before the underground lords did. The three guards who had just disappeared from
view left the Burrick Pub unguarded, much to a bartender's dismay as he did supply the guards
with free liquor as they pleased. The bartender had left his post and when he did Garrett swiftly
made his way into the bar. The lights were far too bright and Garrett felt uneasy but he knew he
would make it to the nearby shadow before anyone would notice he was even there. Stepping
into the shadow, Garrett seemed to have become one with it, his black cloak melding into the
abyss and his stillness matching that of the it's form. Garrett took out the key from his belt
pouch and placed it into the metal door that heartily accepted the key. With minimum noise, the
thief crept into the crack of the door and closed it behind him. Before him was a staircase
descending to the underground gambling network, no doubt. Garrett may have known the city
streets and roofs better than anyone but the world under the city would be a challenge. Garrett
was confident, however, and his hands grew impatient from their emptiness of the goods he
would soon be partaking.
Garrett's acute hearing sensed a large amount of people close by. The tapping of the thief's
boots rippled off the stone floor and made slight echos in the long hallway. Sewers from above
leaked water that dripped into a slow decent to the hallway's ground. A door plagued with
splinters and rotting wood stood in Garrett's way.
"Let's see what makes the people whisper, why the people look down when an underground
Lord passes by, and what makes the guards bow down to their wishes," Garrett thought to
himself. With his attack-ready sword in grasp just behind his cloak and a couple of flash bombs
hanging from his belt, the thief was hardly worried of being subdued by any thugs that might
come in his way. Garrett reached out for the door and opened it.