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    The North

    Within the Northern vicinity of the city the wealthy gather behind meticulously trimmed hedges and high class victorian architecture. The streets are paved with stone, the buildings are made of brick, and the storefronts are brightly lit and inviting. In the North every establishment is made to cater to the rich and the wealthy. Many such places are used to the sometimes peculiar requests of the otherworldly but here there is little that money cannot buy - weather it be illegal or merely looking the other way. Vampires and Dark Hunters are often found upon these Northern streets, their long lives often contributing to their sizable wealth which allow them the luxuries that the North provides.

    What's You'll Find Here

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    St. Pancras Station

    owned by no one
    1 employees

    St. Pancras Station

    A historical train station renovated in to a luxury resort-style country club that unites Victorian elegance with contemporary style. Relax in the full-service spa featuring spa treatments, saunas, spa pools with hydro therapy & aqua bar, and relaxation lounges. The club offers many dining and entertainment options including Seven Sisters Lounge, Victoria Bistro, Barlow Gastropub and the formal St. Pancras restaurant as well as boutique shopping and event halls. Join The Chambers Club for a more exclusive entertainment experience.

    Owner no one

    Iórkæll Dværg

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    The VooDoo Room

    owned by no one
    0 employees

    The VooDoo Room

    The Voodoo Room is an award winning bar that aims to provide an eclectic and exotic atmosphere. The bar is filled with intoxicating liquors and a voodoo vibe to keep you coming back. Their mixologists meet the highest standards with our fantastical themed selections of cocktails and specials.

    Owner no one

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    The Witchery

    owned by Rowena Metcalf
    0 employees

    The Witchery

    Dark, gothic, and throughly theatrical, the Witchery is a place to indulge yourself with it's fabulously lavish suites. Whatever room you choose, you'll find glamor, indulgence and luxury. The suites you have to choose from are: the Vestry, Sempill, the Old Rectory, the Library, the Turret, Heriot, Guardsroom, Armory.

    Owner Rowena Metcalf

i'm more alive than i've ever been108.93.10.156Posted On December 10, 2017 at 3:14 PM by isolt griffin

isolt griffin

I'm more alive than I've ever been


Diplomacy had always been her fondest hope, even before she had taken the proverbial crown as her own in Damon's absense and had risen as Supreme of the Elysium coven. It had acted as the hand to guide every move that she would make in the moments since that initial gathering in the dimly-lit luxury of Ceara's lounge, and it had been the subject of the discourse she had shared with various leaders of Sacrosanct's many clans. Isolt had, over the span of the previous year, taken many strides to assert herself as the leader that she feared she may never become... the leader that she believed could not possibly reside within her, and yet she had succeeded in no small measure in constructing diplomatic relationships with several of Sacrosanct's most established.

And she could see the dissolution of one such relationship unfolding before her very eyes.

Though Claire's sudden backlash was not entirely unexpected, for truly she had wasted no pleasantries on Isolt when first they had met all those months ago, it paled so pathetically in comparison to the momentous explosion of energy from her compatriots. It was as if they were a powder keg and she the spark to set them ablaze, the barest gust of wind employed as their proverbial tipping point to unleash the flood of their caged ire. Isolt admitted herself marginally surprised at her own reaction, having hardly come upon the gathering with the intent to harm the other woman and yet, being no stranger to a raised fist, she had allowed primal instinct to force her hand... as it were. The same primal instinct for battle that seemed to spread as wildfire to those about her... moreso in Damon than she had ever experienced in all of the years that she had known him.

It was so very unlike any part of her lover that she had ever been privy to. And, up until this moment, Isolt had been under the distinct impression that she had been witness to even the most secret, guarded portions of the man she was to wed. The youthful vampire's eyes are drawn first to the decapitated head that rolls past her as if it were some haphazardly discarded rubbish, then to Claire whose own eyes burned ever brighter with rage as they paced a sharp line from Isolt to Damon. And then to Damon, her eyes adopting a look of abject horror at the heart that squealches sickeningly betwixt his vice-like fingers. "Damon, no... stop," she whispers beseechingly, the plea punctuated by the furrow scrunching her delicate brow. "Stop." The demand is louder this second time and cast in the direction of Claire as the woman seeks to round on her once again.

But this time, it is not Isolt's fists that give the other woman pause, but a curious net that clings as a second skin to the quickly-disoriented Claire. Isolt's eyes, her mind, linger upon the crumpled figure of her opposer, hardly bothering with the effort to listen to the words exchanged by the two men until the matter of Claire's posse is broached. "No," she issues, almost as an afterthought, a byproduct of the considerations and concerns that parade through the lense of her mind's eye. "And it's not Claire's coven, their chief's name is Xavier... and he'll be coming soon. We have to go back to the pub. Now."



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