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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!

I carry their caskets and sing them good-bye; On April 15, 2017 at 4:20 PM by calliope

“Sacrosanct.” The name is hideous on her lips. Calliope is made to speak of magic and war. She's made for blood and righteousness. She is made to be death.. She is judge, jury and executioner.

Calliope is made to be more--
Was made for more.

When the girl joins them her gaze sharpens. There is something wild in the way Flora moves. It's a hint of more than fragile bones and mortality. Calliope smiles for the memory and it's a terrifying twist of her lips that stretches the faded scars that slice across both her eyelids. “Who am I to hunt?” Darkness shifts across her face and all at once her eyes are a winter storm full of rage. In her voice there is a hint of an old, faded battle-cry (an echo of a unicorn's scream).

She doesn't feel the cold or care about the sharp, rotten tang of spoiled fish. Only the night matters, only finding a way free of this labyrinth of brick. Calliope would burn every warehouse to the ground just to see the stars again.

It's challenge to focus on the other two mortal creatures before her when they look back at her. She's lost in the steady hum of something in her veins. Calliope wonders what rivers run through this body. The man's skin flutters against hers as she lifts that mighty, wicked horn to the perfect skin above her breasts.

When she swipes the edge of the weapon against her skin she's silent but for a sharp, hollow his of pain. A stab of relief makes her shiver; it's a blessing to know she can feel anything at all. “I was Calliope.” There is a distant agelessness to her name-- all teeth and lighting and death.

Again she looks out to the sky and her hand lifts (oddly graceful and steady) to the bleeding slice above her heart. A finger runs through the blood and traces out the hollow above her collarbone. The gesture is 'other', a relic some forgotten part of her ancient soul (even she cannot remember where it is from).

“I must still be Calliope.” When she moves it's sudden and surprisingly elegant. Calliope is still all long legs and wild brutality. Kearn's fabric skin falls to the wayside as she steps past them.

The taste of blood and static is still on her lips when she turns back to them like the death-stained queen she once was. “Lead on then, Flora and Kearn.” Bitter. Their names are bitter on her tongue. “And tell me what purpose a hunter has in this place.” Against the pavement her horn sparks and clangs when the tip of it falls.

Everything is suddenly so heavy.


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