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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!


when the darkness comes, be afraid of me

The nightmares had come again. Not that it should come as any great surprise. Regan had been shocked, to say the least, they they had abated as long as they had. This time had been particularly brutal -- silvery webs of intangible tendrils. Regan never remembered what manner of creature or memory hunted, harmed or haunted her. There were too many...her weakness too profound. Her violet gaze swept her naked frame. She was covered in scratches, bite marks and gouges. The scent of blood heady and heavy on the sweat soaked air. The stench of fear permeated the room and shamed her. She needed to get out of there and quickly. She bent and grabbed the first article of clothing her fingers touched. An old hooded sweatshirt that belonged to some guy she'd seen the year before. She'd envied him and his new sweater with the tiger crawling up the back. So she'd done what she'd had to. She'd stolen it. Now she slipped it over her lithe frame and barefoot, slipped into the waiting darkness.

The night swallowed her -- embraced and concealed her. She slipped silently from one shadow to the next, doing her best to avoid the light. Regan does not feel like being watched. Not today. Not with the scent of blood still lingering on her skin and the sense of her shame lingering at the forefront of her mind. The need to run, the feeling of being chased still, sees Regan slip into a ground eating jog. With each long stretch of her legs, the hooded sweatshirt brushes the middle of her thigh, revealing bloodied scrapes and gouges. She pressed herself for more speed and gets it. She was barely a blur by the time she made it to the beach. Her chest heaving up and down, the soles of her feet scraped and bleeding lightly. Then again, she had just run a solid 15 miles to get here. Bending, her hands press into her knees and she takes a moment to settle her breathing and calm her center. Her eyes closing, as slowly she relaxed and allowed the calm rise and fall of the ocean waves to lull her. A moment passes and then another. Her eyes flicker open and she lowers herself into the sand, her violet gaze locked on the stars.

Just before dawn, Regan slips out of her sweater and into the cool dampness of the ocean. She glides beneath its surface and shudders when the sting of the salt permeates her sores. The pain pulls her further into herself -- awakening the soul that had been closed off in the terrors of the night. Beneath the ocean's surface, she began to chance. Her body shimmering and cracking as bones realigned themselves. A tiger crested the waves just as dawn touched the water. The onyx feline waded to shore and shook the lingering sea from her fur. Her violet gaze sweeping the beach for intruders. For a few long minutes the tiger simply stood there with the ocean waves breaking against the shore behind her. With a relieved sigh, she finally loped up the beach dunes and crested a small hill, headed for home. What she saw there, halted her in her tracks.

"Thinks like this."

mute -- weretiger -- played by megs

Regan Izumi


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