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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!

the hallways they echoed and groaned50.35.0.252Posted On June 08, 2017 at 12:14 AM by AIDEN TETRADORE

aiden tetradore

That visage of his mistress was a sight from the very depths of his own nightmares. That vampiress still haunted the man behind closed lids, he still awoke in a pool of sweat with her voice curling through his memories. The very sound of her voice caused a shudder to run down his spine, even if he remained rooted to the very place. His emerald eyes remained altogether steady upon her, that hint of disbelief, of surprise, of horror so momentarily fluttering across his features. In those moments of sheer, unexpected, astonishment, those words of incredibility so left his lips. He had been so certain that she was dead, that she was apart of a life long gone. He'd been so foolish to think this was but a trick of that Norwegian man, to walk back so naively into her very clutch and yet - with Risque standing before him, Frost was the very last being upon his mind. It took him a moment to so train his features back to that look of eternal apathy that he so often had worn within her presence, even if the steady pounding of his heart so gave away that panic that invaded his system. He'd forgotten, in those sweet first few moments, what she was like. Everything he gave her, she always used against him. Every touch of emotion, every fear, every worry and concern, all of it she brought to fruition just to see how he would react - just to torment him. In those moments of his bewilderment, he knew well he had given her ammunition she could ever need - that simple knowledge that she still held some hold over him. It was not a satisfaction he could easily take away from her now.

That near musical laughter that fell from her lips had a way of making his hair stand up on the back of his neck, that very tone of her voice near condescending in nature and yet, those words so had a fashion of deflating him, confirming within him that unspoken fear he'd had all along - that her death was an impossibility. That frown was altogether visible upon his lips as he considered the truth of all he'd thought was possible. All those considerations of the future, all those dreams, they all crumpled inward like mere paper, slipping away from his fingers. He could hardly help the way his emerald eyes turned towards the floor, searching for some sort of answer amongst all of that confusion. How had he failed? Where had he gone wrong? "But...how?!" He inquired, those words a mere whisper upon his lips. He had seen Isolt plunge that stake in the woman's chest, he'd seen the blood on the floor, he'd taken her to Samantha's, to the Ark, he'd watched the sun rise and her body burst into pieces till it was but ash on the wind. He had been so certain and so through, near demanding to see that sight himself as if it alone would reassure him and still, still she had survived.

It took him a moment, truly, to consider all he knew of that vile woman before him before the realization of what exactly had occurred so slammed into him. After all, she had near tormented him with those illusions before, bringing to life once again those images of his burning family, of his sister, his mother, his father, his childhood home. She'd subjected him to the ghost of those souls he'd murdered for her haunting his steps if he hesitated even the slightest in fulfilling her commands. The illusions she was capable of - how had he forgotten? "Oh…" The word was a mere breath from his lips as all those puzzle pieces began to fall ever more rapidly into place. He'd become a thorn in her side and so, for a little while, she'd let him into the world. Weather or not she expected him to succeed in the slightest was another question and yet, really, that freedom he'd so naively thought he'd gained only serve to give her far more to hold over him than she ever had before. Nadya and her children. Tobias. His pack. Vhalla. Samantha. Everything he'd fought so diligently for her now crowded his metaphorical chess board. She had everything. There was a certain sort of defeat that so clung to him in those delicate moments and yet, he knew well how truly deadly of a game they played. She had checkmated the were-king.

That invitation to come closer, however, was met with a merely blank glimpse from the man. He knew well what he would find if he did. He remembered the cold pallor of her flesh, the silken softness to her skin, the way she smelled. In that moment, there was little doubt within him that she was very much alive and yet, even so, he hardly moved from that place in front of the door. The sharp tone to her voice caused his shoulders to slump ever so slightly, his emerald eyes falling once again to the ground as he so struggled to consider his chances. Tetradore despised the idea of simply walking back into that captivity - not when he had so near promised Tobias to fight tooth and nail for that freedom he'd near tore from her. Or, rather, so he thought he had. Even so, he still found his feet shuffling forward, bringing him ever closer towards that woman that had caused him so much heartache and pain. He paused several steps away from her, unsure, really, of what he intended to do. That panic, that paranoia and fear had a way of so muddling his thoughts to the point that it was difficult to latch onto any concrete idea in the wake of that adrenaline that rushed through his veins and the butterflies that swallowed his stomach. That sentiment that she had missed him was met with a near snort from his nose. Though he doubted it was not true, it was surely not in a fashion that held any true affection. She might miss him in the way that one might miss a well trained servant. After all, had he really been anything more to her?

That roving of her gaze upon his form, upon his very neck went wholly unnoticed, his thoughts instead had long ago turned inwards with that fretting over all those very souls he cared for. Did Isolt know? How did he stop Tobias from coming after him? He doubted his sister would care terribly much. He ignored that outstretched hand entirely, his voice entirely flat as he inquired. "What do you want from me." It had been years, truly, since her real presence in his life. Why now did she call him back to his prison and what did she intend to do for all that he had done?


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