(http://niflgard.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/black-sabbath-98.jpg)<br/><br/><br/>Desmond needed something, hell anything to shake him off from the boredom and disillusion he felt with his life. It was part of why the idea of starting a band appealed to him so strongly, Desmond had been a lifelong metal fan. Hell, he'd lost his virginity at a Deftone's concert as a preteen. The idea of creating a band? It was something that was too good to pass up, naturally he'd have to hold auditions. Though the idea made him laugh, who'd want to audition for someone whom they never met nor heard of? Still, he remained optimistic despite this. He knew he had a lot to offer. Desmond was a first rate vocalist, a lifetime of singing and writing poetry would give one certain gifts. All he needed was to wrap a band around that concept, if aligned to his creative vision he knew there'd be an audience out there for whatever they could crank out. Not to mention he made the prospect sweeter by promising a future venue that was up for use, the strip club he worked at? They loved him enough there to allow him to use the space if he was able to get a worthwhile group together.<br/><br/>Currently it was fairly early on a Saturday afternoon, Desmond had worked a late shift last night at the club but he felt fully awake. Aggressive initiative was taken to get the word out. Ads in the newspaper, some advertisements on Facebook/Myspace and every other social networking site under the sun. Metal websites, magazines, and the like were also not spared. Desmond was serious about this and had shelled out some money to get results. To his benefit, he wasn't disappointed. There was a fairly strong turn out currently to audition for the band. He'd even gotten one of his regular lovelies at the record shop to spread the word that he was looking to start up a band. It seemed she hadn't failed, there were also more females at the audition than Desmond had anticipated. Some attractive ones too he thought to himself.<br/><br/>With a small little grin, he sat himself down at a seat in the back of a table set up in the center of the small space he had rented. One of Desmond's friends had brought some of his boys, and they were playing security for this whole event. To make sure nobody got too riled up. Desmond called outwards<strong>"Alright. I'll keep this short, I'm looking for the best. I demand the best, but I also give the best. If you're not here to play some fucking skull splitting, bloodletting metal? You're at the wrong place! With that said, lets get this thing going!"</strong><br/><br/>Anyone who would make their way into the room would be greeted by an attractive young black guy with dreadlocks and too many tattoos for his own good. Currently he was wearing a black wifebeater, a pair of black jean shorts and combat boots. Resting his hands on the table in front of him, he tapped a pencil down lightly on a sheet of paper. Having several out so he could take notes. The auditionees wouldn't know it, but he was critiquing more than just their skills.