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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!

Dead man walking;; Sera64.229.2.127Posted On May 07, 2017 at 5:25 PM by Brennan O'Connell

all that is gold does not glitter
not all who wander are lost

As night entombs the city, the odd and out of place artificial glow of the street lamps illuminate the pathway as the dark grey clouds blotted the sky consuming the sun. He had been following Serafina since she left her shop, but he was so very far away he could barely capture a mere glimpse of the raven haired witch. She wandered down that old but familiar path into the park and follows, watching as she moved with a dancer like grace. He can’t help but wonder where she was going or who she was meeting. The bittersweet nostalgia crept up tightening chest, as bittersweet memories flicker past in rapid succession. Trees were much larger now and the paved path held cracks within the asphalt that were once tiled in cobblestone. It was also far busier than he remembered, or perhaps he was just painfully aware of even the slightest of movements that flickered in the corner of his astute eye. He was far too jumpy than he once was, his nerves shot from his time away. He craved the sweet burn of a drink in that very moment with a resolute fierceness, it growls in his mind. But he growls back, not missing on this opportunity to steal but a glimpse of her.

He had her in his sights for the first time in years, but she is just a flash of hair for now, weaving through the people on the glistening rain soaked path. He just wanted to see her, the yearning was stronger than the need for alcohol. Was it all that wrong? To gaze upon the one shard of light that helped him in a world of necrotic corrosive black which greedily swallowed him whole. The days blurred into one as it became just a continuous means for survival. Was it wrong of him to have just one look to know she was alright? She probably wanted nothing to do with the roguish warlock, to her, he has just disappeared without a trace. She probably hated him with an unforgiveable kind of hatred that could set a man on fire with just one death glare. He could live with that look, even though it would crush him, but he could live knowing for certain that she was alright and happy.

The edges of the world seem to meld around him in a cyclone of strange and yet familiar shapes. The rain had kept some people away, but it was still busy enough to make the man feel out of place and odd. The Irish man felt on edge, as though demon eyes were watching him and he was ready to slice them in two if they were to materialize before him. He was tense, his body coiled as if ready for attack. Fuck, he was a damn mess.

He remembered the day when nothing bothered him, when nothing could rattle his core, his roots firm and unmoveable like an ancient oak tree. Hell, he once acted like he owned any place he walked into and in his mind, he did. Not a crowd, not an enemy would make this man cower, a handom devil without a microscopic care. Yet somehow, it all came undone. Yet still, after all these years, it all came down to one person, that person who etched herself in his mind like a tattoo since the very day he was cast away like garbage. He was thrown into another dominion that was alien in all matters and whoever threw him there tossed the key somewhere in the ocean where no one would find it. He still felt the tremble in his tired, battle worn hands, his sleep deprived mind had yet to catch up. It had only been a day since he had found his way back to earth. A mark singed his flesh on his inner wrist which glowed with white blue light, an ugly reminder at the cost it took him to return. He would always keep it covered.

Another flash of raven hair caught his eye, as the spatter of rain light splashes upon his face. He wipes it away with a calloused hand in an almost nervous gesture. Dammit. He was never nervous he was Brennan O’Connell after all, his name once known, now a faded memory in all matters, like an empty faint whisper in a waging rattling storm.

He was lost, so very lost. Even in this familiar world he called home, he had no anchor and his ship was drifting to sea without direction.

He almost lost sight of her familiar raven hair that fell in loose curls down her back, that familiar sashay of her hips gone. She was gone without a trace. He slides through the crowd and people with their aggravating umbrellas, he knows how to remain unseen. He wanted to knock them all to the ground to reach her.

Suddenly, a tall woman clipped him at his shoulder and it sent a resonating jolt up his arm and through him, he almost whirled around in attack mode as though something inhuman struck him. A growl passes his lips and his face pulls into a displeased scowl. Pull it together his hissed at himself. His cool blue eyes scan with that hawk-like precision in which he had only honed further as a survival technique. It was then he had admitted his defeat for now. He had lost her, yet again. Serafina was lost to him, he knew this and still he had to see her. He curses underneath his breath, shoving his fists into his beaten leather trench coat, his fingers toying with a trinket he forgot he had within the cavern of his pocket. Still he lurks, a shadow of a man he once was. Maybe it was time for that drink now.

Brennan O'Connell


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