As yet Unamed Jareg Story

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Ok this is the beginning of the next Young Jareg story (No name as yet, as the topic title says). Please comment and/or criticise, oh and Enjoy

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Picture a room. A room in this city. This city full of liars, muggers, extortionists and all the other sorts of criminals that this city has bred. The streets filled with gangs fighting each other, while the law is helpless and retreats further and further back into the streets they still control. The street that this room is on is of no concern, for there are streets and rooms like it all over the city.

The cheap wooden walls have not been there many years, buildings go up and down as the gangs fight over them, or, more often, through them. The windows would normally show a busy street, even at this late hour, but the blinds are drawn tight across them.

The few chairs in the room were occupied and the floor was finding heavy traffic from those who could not find a seat. In total there were perhaps just over a dozen people in the room, mostly male but one or two females amongst them.

The person who was drawing all their attention was standing just to the side of the solitary door. Having satisfied himself that the door was locked and barred soundly he began his address to his most trusted gang members.

“El Yamar Solar. Some of you may recognise those words, but most of you will not. Though they claim to be an ‘organisation’ “he scoffed, “they are just another gang. They think they are above us, and claim to have ideals. Such ideals are foolish and only a cloak of deceit covering the lust for power and wealth, the lust that all true gangs are motivated by.”

Some of the listeners nodded to these words as the speaker paused, “As well, of course, of the most important motivation of all: Survival.” All of those present in the room acknowledged agreement and acceptance of this in some way or other, whether by the inclination of the head or by in other fashion.

“Now, though they claim not to wish it, El Yamar Solar are endeavouring to gain power, by taking over our territory. Now we have fought long and hard for our slice of the city and the Bloodhounds will not go down without a fight” he drew himself up, filled with pride of his gang and their reputation.

Like many of the most notorious gang leaders he looked nothing like the tales told him to. If he had he would have been nearly ten foot, with arms the size, and thickness, of trees, and was unbeatable in combat, even when outnumbered ten to one. In reality he was barely over four and a half feet in height, with the figure of a beer barrel, and often similar contents. His arms protruded from his torso like sticks from a snowman and, though he was not a bad fighter with a weapon, he was much happier relying on his followers to do his fighting. His two bodyguards, who were skulking in the corners of the room, fitted his mythical description with much greater accuracy, though they were vastly inferior in the realms of intelligence and cunning, as well as etiquette, charm, and hygiene.

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More to come.

 

I like it! Keep it coming!

Lana