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Dawn City

Dawn City

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a part of Dawn City, by cancerparady.

The gutters are stained in blood, but no one seems to care. All of them have empty stares.

cancerparady holds sovereignty over Dawn City, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

238 readers have been here.

Setting

Dawn City is a big skyscraper city. Crime is always rising and Justice seems no where. Rather in its place a different Law hides in the shadows.
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Dawn City

The gutters are stained in blood, but no one seems to care. All of them have empty stares.

Minimap

Dawn City is a part of Dawn City.

7 Characters Here

Publius Vergilius Maro ( Perfers Vergil) [0] A hellishly corrupted Centurion he cares little for the useless drama's of daily life.
Acadia Hughes [0] One of the last of the old Crescent Warriors
[0]
Kaname Takani [0] Kaname Takani
Sermon Black [0] He is the eldest for the Crescent moons
lillith throbb [0] she is a shy but beautiful vampire who was changed when she was young.
Sahraphine [0] Human living in the Crescent Moon territory.

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Sermon walked the rainy streets of Dawn City. He noticed that it was a rather dark night. He remembered of times before this city, but now it was all he had. Here no one even gave him a second glance. Even if they don't know what he is they still fear for their lives. The death toll is so high that no one will risk a thing. And they think a criminal is their worst threat. Sermon kinda smiled at this fact. Soon he stood in front of a tall building.

He walked in without a worry. The man at the elevator quick pushed the buttons. The man knew who he was this was his building. The doors open and he strode in and the man quickly followed. "Top Floor," Sermon kinda grumbled in his deep voice.

"Of course sir!" The man exclaimed nervously. Sermon could definitely see that this was his city. He had the right people in the right places or he used fear on the "incorruptible."

He got off the elevator and walked through the only door in front of him which lead to two more. One had a crescent moon the other a full moon. He step through the crescent door and saw that other vampires were in this lounge sort of room. From sofas to beanbags and from bookshelves and pool tables this room had it all. It could easily fit 50 plus vampires. A few got quite or showed respect as he passed. If only he could say he respected them at all. When one of the their own might soon kill them to prove their strength and so forth to the next one. Maybe if one could actually kill more than just a couple or not die after he found something in them.

He walked trough this room to a hallway. Here were doors that had small rooms for vampires who couldn't manage on their own. He walked to the last room which had a giant window and a great view of the city. This room was a lot nicer then where he chooses to sleep. His coffin is in an abandoned building across town. He likes to live in despair. It takes him back to his old ways. He stared across Dawn City, but was thinking of some where else.

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#, as written by Cocoa
Acadia glanced up from one of the couches as the door to the Crescent Class lounge opened and shut. A snarl was already forming on her face, she and one of the Full Moons were having a disagreement and she was itching for the chance to rip his head off, but Sermon's scent entered the room just a few moments before he did. Both satisfied and disappointed, she went back to seducing the male who sat to her right. Her heart wasn't into it so much anymore now that he was practically hers and now that Sermon was here. There was buisiness to take care of.

"I have some work to do," she murmured to her new toy, Demetri was his name. "Meet me on the south side and we can catch a snack." She kissed his neck briefly and hopped off of the couch before he could snake his arms around her waist. She smiled cheekily at him as she rounded the corner. It would be a good night if Sermon would cooperate for a few minutes.

She went into his room without knocking, something she shouldn't do, but had been doing for more than a few years. "Always brooding," she said dissapprovingly. She threw her lean body down onto the black leather couch, picking at her nails. "We are here now. Would you like to join us?"

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Sermon knew the woman was coming in before the door opened. As she came in and began to speak it pulled him back to the scene of Dawn City. The scene was of apparent violence and chaos. This was his home now, but it still seems so foreign. He turned tired of the view to Acadia's beauty which had eased him. She was sprawled out on the couch in his room. He sat in a chair next to her. He looked at his hands before looking to her again.

"Yes they are naive. They thirst and kill but lost what it ment to live as we once did..." He paused his eyes were telling her that this was all very serious to him. "They have such a lack of respect they don't even have any for themselves." He felt he said to much. Sermon put his hand on the hilt of his sword. The cold metal calmed him."I'm sorry I'm sure you had something on your mind to tell me."

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#, as written by Cocoa
Acadia glanced up from her nails as Sermon settled next to her. She knew his sorrow well, but had problems expressing it as freely as he did. So instead she sat up and touched his shoulder gently. She'd been wounded in that same spot on her own body during the wars, protecting him. She never thought about it in the way a human would. She was never proud of the fact that she had risked her life to save his. He was her leader. It was what was expected of her. It was the lack of this sort of attitude that they both lamented. The Crescent Moon class was no longer proud and fierce as she had known it.

"Perhaps it is time to become more selective in those we change. We may decrease in size, but what we lose in bodies we will gain in strength and value. But, that is for another time. Your brother is pushing again. He wants less kills, fewer raids. Pointless requests, really, that will do nothing but weaken us. He's pissing me off, Sermon."

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Sermon thought back to the battles they shared as she placed her hand on his shoulder. Acadia is one of the oldest left. They spent many night fighting and many days sleeping close. He could not recall what has happened to the rest cause it was so many years ago. After she was done speaking Sermon thought of all the fights him and his brother shared. It was not his true brother, but his brother in darkness. The one who made him soon made another and began talking about the era of the full moon. Thus began The War of Night.

"I think your solving his problem in what you prepose to me." He said calmly. Sermon felt they had good control of the city, but..."It is true these new breeds aren't living to are potential. Some of them have even shorter lives than the humans we kill." He felt disgusted with this place and spit on the floor. He killed the last person who spit on his ship.

"Just so you know he pisses me off, but we can no longer solve our disagreements with steel Acadia. We are only half our breed as I see it. We must stay alive together and live with some standard of peace." Sermon tightened his grip on his sword then released it. "I want the old days, but another war I can't lead."

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#, as written by Cocoa
Acadia pouted. "Not even a little one?" she purred and folded her legs under her. She crossed her arms over the arm of the couch and leaned closer to him, staring into his eyes intently. "It is only a matter of time before something happens, Sermon, this cannot continue for more than another few years. Our two classes were so... well not compatible even before The War. Now we are the only ones left, sharing a city that should belong to the Crescent Moon." Her fists clenched and she had to fight back the low growl building in her chest. "Let us drive them out. Let them live among the trees if they crave rodent blood so and leave us to our city and our growing."

Acadia was not a politician. She was not a diplomat. She was a warrior. She understood that for all of their peaceful ways, the Full Moon Class were still vampires. They understood violence, intimidation, fear, and death and knew how to weild them as wepons as well. "We must either have some sort of total compromise," the word was disgusting in her mouth and synonymous with surrender, "or total conflict. It is not only I who feels this way. I hear them talk about it too, when they think I don't hear." She tossed her hair and leaned back again to see what he would make of that bit of intelligence.

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Sahraphine walked slowly through the dark street. She didn't know why she was so nervous walking home alone at night. Actually, she did. The murder rate was going up at an increasingly alarming pace. Maybe she would be next. She banished that thought bfore it could get to her. Suddenly, Sahra heared a russtling noise behind her. She spun around but saw nothing. Now she began to run. She was going to make it home alive. She had to.

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Vergil, one of the few ancients still wandering the dusty paths of waking life stared down at the city from his lofty perch atop the tall towers of modern society. Laid out before him like a model was the streets, the back alleys, the hidden shadows concealing his brethren such as they where. Weaklings every single one of them, unworthy of the mantle they bear or the meager power they covet. No wonder the other ancients gave themselves to the flames, I am almost tempted myself. For I grow weary of the endless machinations of this children, of their war of ideals. What a thing to fight a war over, ideals. Even the Emperors of my Past refused to fight a war of ideals. But wisdom died a long time ago, perhaps for the better. At least the war is interesting to watch. And entertainment is hard to come by in this day and age. The former Centurion thought with disdain, with boredom,and most odd of all amusement.

Standing up the wind played havoc with his hair and coat, the cold razor of it hardly comparing to the frozen feel of his skin. He was always cold, a cold that was as much as part of him as his very flesh and blood. Leaping off the impossibly tall tower that was one of the few wonders of modern society that this 2200 old vampire enjoyed he flew down. Gaining speed he soon was staring at the dark gray of the sidewalk. Turning around in midair he land somehow lightly without a sound on that gray sidewalk. A couple of homeless beggars stared up at him startled at the sight of what should have been a suicide instead resulted in Vergil waking off paying little attention to the them. A miracle that they had no idea they should be grateful for.


Striding down the moonlit street he passed very few people, all who shunned him with an unconscious terror. They knew a Hunter walked by them and with that instinct so common to all prey they fled to safety. Knowing he would have to feed soon the centurion scanned his surroundings seeking a suitable meal. A connoisseur of sorts Vergil refused to feed off anyone, his tastes where much more refined then that. A nunnery that still had lights flickering in the windows at this time of night caught his roving eye.


Striding to the door he opened it with a mere thought, the physic ability used as more of reflex then a thinking action. The main hall was deserted or rather only a single woman in the black and white habit of her faith was it's sole occupant. Despite being rather over sized it's fabric could not hide the woman's shapely figure from his eye.

" We are closed for renovations Sir." She said as soon as Vergil made his presence known, her voice was calm and even. A person who's faith was absolute.

" I am not here seeking your god's favor my good lady." He replied with a mocking tone that made a look of disapproval appear upon the Sister's rather beautiful face." Whoever decided to hide that body behind a nun's habit was mad. You have a body to make a man hungry, I know it's making me practically starved."

" HELP." She was saying before the former Centurion worked the least of all vampire tricks upon the woman. The glamor that bent most mortals to a vampire's will as long as that vampire had a stronger will.

" Now,now, is that anyway to respond to compliment my good lady." He said as she walked towards him in a trance.Leaning against his chest like a lover Vergil sank his fangs into her neck, the blood seeming to taste all the sweeter for it's source. Losing himself in one of the few pleasures left to him it was all over too soon. Her body drained of all but it's last drop, for that last drop held nothing but his death. Such was it with all his brethren, the last drop forbidden for him. The last revenge of a dead god, it was nonetheless still as deadly.


An altar caught his attention or rather the crucifix. To this day the Roman could not understand why the Christan of this modern world took a symbol of Roman punishment method as their religious symbol. But it gave him a rather entertaining idea. And after a few moments it was done.

The nun lay fixed to that symbol, only upside down. In a classic perversion of what the Christan's took crucifixion to mean, he laughed as he walked back onto the streets. He was for the moment full and laughing. But perhaps a little hunting was in order, perhaps to kill a weak vampire or watch the idiot children fight their war of ideals.

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Sermon saw the anger and much more the power she had behind all her words. He couldn't help, but think of simpler times. Sermon wasn't sure if there was anymore left though. He knew what the Crescent Moon's desires were. How can he tell her what he feels. He saw nothing in this new wave of vampires to be proud of. "It's true that these vampires are willing to fight, but their strength worries me. They seem more likely to run from the fighting when they see their brothers dieing around them. I have little faith in the war its self I can't doubt my warriors at the same time."

Sermon could see the impatiens in Acadia's eyes. "I can only put off another war, but the disagreements are still there I see." Sermon staying calm, but being strong about his words. He paused and looked around his fancy room. He didn't care about losing what he had so much as to losing a good vampire or two, If he ever found one besides Acadia. "We will fight, but you must help. The vampires can not hear that I personally ordered this. Kill the Full Moon vampires. Not all at once teach them to be descret and to use their powers well." He looked to see if any of this was pleasing to her."I will help you, but The Full Moon class shall not hear a word of my doing. If you really want a war we must win some small battles first." Sermon pulled his hair back as he retraced his thoughts.

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When Sahraphine got to her neighborhood, everything was silent. No lights were on. Not even the ones on timers. She quickly ran to her door and found it was locked. Sahra knocked on every door to find no one home. "Oh my gosh," she said to herself. "I can't believe they went on the annual neighborhood trip to Michagan without me! Especially in a place like Dawn City!"

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Vergil, last relic of an ancient Empire. A man's whose memories hid the sight of the Christ on his cross, who knew war both as a mortal and an immortal. While no longer a man Vergil identified little with his brethren. Their endless struggles for power and respect grew repetitive to him. As a centurion the hunter had fought for the glory of Rome but he hated war. But at the same time he lived for combat, it was always a fact that brought him endless amusement. But perhaps it was the duality of his mortal nature that he could not escape. The reason is meaningless, so is the question, even the answer. It just is but the children that are all left of our race need to learn unity. They no longer have the ancients to protect them and as soon as humanity learns of their hidden enemy and their weakness..well I think it would be a bloodbath. Perhaps it is for the best, too long have they squabbled over meaningless titles and rights. It is a pity the real council is no longer here, those where ancients who made sure our race was kept in line.

But as he walked the dark streets of a shadow draped city Vergl shook the thought of such matters from his head. All that mattered was the death of his latest victim or the hunt of another foolish child who dared to call themselves a real vampire. But then again perhaps he was merely trying to escape thinking about the inevitable. The last resort of a man who had lived so long he could no longer remember his mortal life clearly, memories of a Celtic mother who he never knew, a heavy handed Roman Soldier all gone into the mists of a millennium's worth of life or undead existence as it where. Could it be called life the cursed existence he embraced because of it's power.


Perhaps I should set the children on the right path....why waste my time these children deserve their doom. Such weakness should not be protected, perhaps we should bring back the old days of the proving. Those where the days, gladiator combat where the strong proved their right to live. And the weak where fed to Death's ever hungry hounds. But the bleeding heart liberals of today's false council would never allow it. After all they are weak as well, why risk their stolen positions. And here the Centurion laughed as if the world's greatest joke was told to him. They say laughter is the language of the soul, so how is it a soulless vampire is still capable of laughing.