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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!

THEY SAY IM A GOD On May 05, 2017 at 10:28 AM by IÓRKÆLL DVÆRG


He had let the boy get too close to him, the dance of war his own and yet here he was, a gash along his inked up shoulder. A snarl rips from that scarred face, clear eyes flashing dangerously as animal takes over and human disappears behind the voices that scream in his mind. Blood oozes from his ears from the effort it takes to hold control. The rules are not to kill, yet where was the fun in that? The other was smaller than the viking, faster, his dagger moving almost too swiftly for the male to keep up.


His massive hand rises, grasping the wrist of the hand wielding the dagger as it comes at him again. He twists, earning a short, squeal to fall from the boy’s lips. The others think he has broken his arm, but there was dark magic at work here. The blood inside the boy is moving at the viking king’s will, twisting and clotting where his hand is grasping. The other’s arm has grown sickly pale, the blood clots showing in bruises forming from the inside out. Upon the gruesome face of the bearded man a smile forms, lips twisting into a sadistic satisfaction as the other drops to his knees, screaming his submission for all to hear.

Reluctantly, the viking releases, ignoring the inner wails of the demons in his mind. He breathes, watching the other hold his arm as he practically crawls out of the ring. The adrenaline and craze has begun to leave the viking, and he blinks, hand raising to run through his hair. He bends, using his good arm to grasp his silver tipped axe. His shoulder wound will heal soon, the pain practically numb to him as years of such a thing only excite him now. The onlookers have dispersed, anticipation for the next fight already brewing in the air. And iorkael needed water. He stumbles from the ring, turning to avoid the wary audience only to feel his body meet a slimmer one. Instincts take over and he spins, avoiding a full on collision with the girl and her stock.

The viking pauses, brow arching as he glances over her and her wares until a short chortle is released. “a witch.” he smirks, adjusting his grip on his axe and rolling that injured shoulder gently. The creak in his tiring bones enough to burden him these days, like he was made of metal and he needed oil to help his joints survive. “you help many cheat their way to a win in these rings.” his low baritones are growled out into a disapproving remark. “I pity those that rely on your help.”

Who was he to talk though? His own horde relied on the aide of a witch.



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