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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!

well toto, we're not in kansas anymore198.81.129.195Posted On May 15, 2017 at 12:22 PM by pan

Second star to the left, and straight on til' morning

Pan couldn’t figure out how they’d found him. He’d been so careful, dodging the rugged looking men with their mean faces and their drunken sneers in the night. Gasping as the first shot rang out, he froze for a moment, his legs unable to move. Nevermind that the wolf had been watching him hungrily just moments before… in this moment, the fairy child can do little more than stand in shock and watch as bullets begin to fly around him. One by one, they ting from the metal, splintering into shining flashes of fire where they meet the rusted cage. It seems like an eternity (though in reality, only a few seconds pass) before Pan’s feet can take him into action, even as Oliver quivers fiercely in the false security of the boy’s ragged backpack.

Aaaaaaahhhhh he calls out, finally… reaching into a well-worn scabbard on his hip, Pan draws a needle thin rapier, deftly swinging it at the nearest attacker. He didn’t notice that there was another behind him – for the boy was focused only on the immediate problem… but as the wolf barked a warning sound his way, Pan swiveled just in time for his sword to lick across the man’s face. It wasn’t a deep wound, but bought him enough time to jump away from the brute’s meaty hands, leaving him grasping at air where Pan had once stood.

Take that, you scoundrel! His child voice is an octave higher than it should be, heart racing from the adrenaline of it all as he circles back to the flank of the wolf. Fighting alongside her, he does his best to stave the men off… but his fighting skills were far from honed, and in truth, the boy fought more for sport than to maim anyway. Only the she-wolf’s teeth seemed to be a match for the attackers, who began to notice that they were losing the upper hand, shrinking back to the shadows as their dead bled out in the streets. One by one, they seemed to fall or to leave, until none but Pan and the wolf remained in the shadowed motorway.

Adrenaline surged through the boy, even as his eyes grew wide at the bloody sight. He turned, around and around again, looking for another to jump from the shadows, with wild eyes and jittery hands still grasping his sword. But then there is a calm that washes over this place, a stillness, followed by the acrid smell of blood on the wind. In his life, Pan had only been witness to one such event before, a distant memory he couldn’t even remember… but now, looking down at his bloody hands and looking over the feral wolf, it all began to be too much. His eyes landed on the fallen bodies, stomach lurching as he noted the pale pallor to their skin, the way their glassy eyes stared into nothing. And before he can speak to the wolf who had saved him, the boy turns to try and hide his queasiness, promptly throwing up his breakfast onto the sunsoaked pavement.

character © firefly; html © dante.


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