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    The West

    The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a certain grunge that permeates the town from the graffiti on the once cleaned brick buildings to the broken and unmaintained architecture. Crime runs high within the western half of town, making it the home of supernatural gangs of illicit activities. Such activities are rarely reported however, and most residents are distrustful of individual's of authorities, instead letting the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.

    What's You'll Find Here

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    Noah's Ark

    owned by Aiden Tetradore
    1 employees

    Noah's Ark

    Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark appears to be little more than an abandoned cargo ship. Accessible from an entrance hidden in the shadows, The Ark is a veritable Were-playground that specializes in fighting tournaments for all creatures great and small. With both singles and doubles tournaments to compete in, the title of Ark Champion is hotly contested amongst the Were population. If anything illegal is going on in the city it's sure to be happening within the back rooms or behind the ring-side bar.

    Owner Aiden Tetradore

    Co-owner Tobias Cain

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    Warehouse District

    Warehouse District

    The warehouse district rests just upon the harbor within the city. Many of the warehouses belong to corporate companies although some are used for less the legal means. Be careful when wandering this district at night for many groups meet within those dark, dilapidated buildings. There are also whispers of hard to obtain goods being sold behind those closed doors but you have to know who's who to get an in!

We wait for darkness and Orion’s call90.209.192.165Posted On April 14, 2017 at 12:31 PM by Florentine Winter


Flora runs fleet-footed through dingy streets. Her feet are little more than whispers over the damp stone compared to the great thumping of the fat, old man behind her. When the heavy thuds grow quieter and quieter and the distance has grown to the point it is unfair (on him), Flora stops and turns in the street.

“Thank you!” Florentine cries, her smile beautiful even through the dirt on her face. The ruby necklace she holds up glints like a droplet of wet blood in the lamplight. It was worth more money that she or Kearn would ever know. She wanted to keep it, her magpie eyes gleaming as she takes in its delicate, lavishly gold chain. Pretty things; she was growing to like them more and more. Maybe she was more of a girl than she thought…

“It’s okay,” She placates the huffing-puffing jeweler, “the money we can get for it will be used for great things – not shady at all!” She smirks, knowing the old man will see through her thinly veiled lie. “Besides, you have lots of necklaces – what is one absent one to you?”

In the midst of the street, bystanders staring at the child-thief and her furious, slowly advancing victim. “You might want to stop… your face…” The necklace lowers, the girl’s head tilting to better survey the man. “Are you okay?” His red face was beginning to turn mottled purple with his fury and effort. “You’re not gunna die are you? Too many pies and not enough running, clearly!”

Realising he was not going to cease pursuit and not keen to linger and watch a man die on her (Kearn would not be pleased), Florentine shrugs and spins. Her braid slices through the air as her torn, woeful trainers carry her swiftly towards the docks.

By the time she reaches the docks the old jeweler is long gone, abandoned some 7 streets away clutching his knees and cursing the day she was born. Unperturbed, Flora skips through the maze of metal harbor buildings, the sea-salt air tugging at the wild tendrils that have escaped her braid. From the pocket of her woefully thin coat, she pulls a black, folded beanie hat and jerks it onto her head. It helps her to sink more into the shadows and she stows her dagger beneath her coat.

A quick glance to the moon tells her all she needs to know – she is late. She can hear Kearn’s reprimands in the incessant chattering of the sea as it breaks against the dock. It does little to make her limbs move any faster than the merry skipping rhythm they have fostered. She knew how to handle Kearn and his grumpy ways.

“Of course you would find a naked woman.” The child chimes as she rounds a corner to find Kearn hunched over the stranger, his coat adorning her shoulders and her fingers clutching it closed. She pauses for a moment to take in the wicked blade glinting malevolently beside the naked girl and her question, hesitant, wild – the grumbling of a lion. “You are a hunter.” Flora says too matter-of-fact, “and a naked one at that.” An eyebrow rises and it is a wonder the child has ever made it this far in life, baiting lions. “It’s a bit cold to be roaming around naked y’know.” She says casually to the stranger. “Jack Frost has a way of biting off your toes and fingers if you’re not careful. He nearly took one of Kearn’s toes, looks very purple in the cold.” With her nose wrinkled she points to his foot, as if the offending toe could be seen through his scuffed shoes.

Finally remembering the task at hand – well, one of them - Flora holds out the ruby necklace. It drops to dangle from a small, slender finger, swaying and glittering merrily in the low light between the three of them.

“Got your necklace.” She says to Kearn, her eyes keenly watching the ruby before flitting away to the naked girl. “So, whose your friend? Don’t you think we had better get her something more substantial than just your coat?” Wide eyes, verdantly green, lay themselves accusingly upon Kearn. They didn’t want a repeat of his frostbite issue…


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