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    The East

    The east side of the city is often considered the heart of Sacrosanct. It's here were the majority of the shopping district can be found, deep in the heart of downtown. It's here that magic thrives, it hums in every stone and can be felt in every breath. Often times, new comers to the city may be come overwhelmed by such sensations but, eventually, it becomes an ever present feeling that's hardly noticed. The streets of the east side are frequented by all species as many companies are housed in the sky scrapers and hole in the wall establishments that line the streets.

    What's You'll Find Here

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    Cat's Meow

    owned by Nadya Tetradore
    0 employees

    Cat's Meow

    An older brick building tucked downtown with only a neon sign above the steel door saying Cat's Meow and the drifting of music to let you know of the burlesque within. The inner confines have a lavish feeling of comfort and style. At one end of the building is a large stage for the dancers to entertain with small round tables scattered in front for the customers to sip or dine while watching. Directly across from the stage is a fully stocked bar so you’re never without a view of the entertainment.

    Owner Nadya Tetradore

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    Downtown

    Downtown

    The city has a unique skyline, clashing between modern sky rises and small victorian storefronts. In the heart of downtown, the sleek colored glass buildings reign supreme though their old-world roots can be seen in the most peculiar places from the lamp post styled electric street light to the stone sidewalks. The old world architecture slowly returns the further from downtown you travel, however.

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    Inner Sanctum

    owned by Alexander Macedonia
    2 employees

    Inner Sanctum

    This hidden little cafe is loaded with essentricities and antiques that fill every corner of this remarkable place. The walls are lined with oddities from every corner of the world. Beyond the intriging decor, this place is known for it's delectable coffees and it's exquisite latte art.

    Owner Alexander Macedonia

    Barista Alexis Wilde
    Barista Calliel Alosi

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    Red on the Water

    owned by Isolt Griffin
    2 employees

    Red on the Water

    Nestled in a pleasant alcove that is but a stone?s throw away from the dazzling labyrinth of downtown, Red on the Water is a spectacle in its own right. Renovated in the style of a classic Irish pub with a dash of modern flare befitting the city that boasts it, this up-and-coming venue is the perfect place to snag an impeccably prepared home-cooked meal and enjoy the city?s most impressive collection of brews from Ireland and beyond. You and your guests are sure to be mesmerized and invigorated by the energetic offerings of the live Celtic band to be found here every weekend.

    Owner Isolt Griffin

    Co-Owner Damon Marcello
    Waitress Yumi Chizue

says the man talking about tombstones50.125.73.18Posted On November 06, 2017 at 11:52 PM by ALEXANDER MACEDONIA

i used to rule the world

seas would rise when i gave the word


Alexander had, in the past, certainly assisted with the flushing of their ranks when the Council had deviated from their self-proclaimed mission. When they had become to corrupt, it was necessary for a toppling of that hierarchy. The simple reminder of all he was capable of surely remained within the heads of those members that lead their organization in Europe. Frost, he was certain, was truly oblivious of how deep his own influence ran, even if he had little intention of showing up at the council's doors to demand a change in their policy of were-horses. Rather, it was an entirely more feasible goal that had begun to creep within Alexander's mind, one that would surely affect them both. The Macedonian King had certainly not involved himself within the inner workings of that organization he belonged to for several centuries, though such seemed to be nearly normal for him. His resolve in their goals seemed to ebb and flow with the times that surrounded him. Perhaps, now was best to show them once again what he was capable of. It would be remarkably easy to request leadership over the Hunter cavalry as a whole - after all, his own Companion Cavalry had been near the best the world had ever seen. They would be fools to deny him - such was a fact he knew they were both well aware of. To free those were-horses was an improbability and yet, to take control of them for himself was very much within his realms of capability. Hopefully, Frost was prepared for the position he would take within that upheaval of the cavalry’s change in authority.

He said little of his intentions within that moment, beyond the mental note to send his request both to Europe and to speak to Azrael upon the completion of tonight's event. Should he secure that position as Cavalry commander, then, and only then would he consider inviting that ivory steed to continue his role as his mount. After all, he remembered well the man's offer to assist only until the pair had achieved what they both wanted from that damned Persian. Their contract of sorts was coming to an end. It was a shame, really, Frost had the potential to be far greater then that role of outcast that he'd chosen for himself - not that he could fault the man with Xerxes as his last rider. That momentary inquiry as to the topics of saddles, however, was hardly given much thought in the wake of that far more pressing matter of ensuring Xerxes death. Although he was aware, vaguely, that such was the first true curious inquiry Frost had offered of that fabled Bucephalus, it was wholly meaningless in the wake of tonight's expedition. Rather, the conqueror was keen to focus upon divising some tactic for tonight, one in which he imparted upon his companion in the moments after the delivery of the reconnaissance information the stallion provided.

Alexander moved towards that staircase, following his companion as the were-Horse began to discard that clothing required for the equestrian's shift. He plucked those pants from the web cobblestone, tossing them inside only to lock the cafe behind him. Alexander turned upon his heels, approaching the steed with the clear intention of mounting him only to have the horse sidestep away from him. That curse near immediately left his lips, the man entirely disgruntled that Frost would choose now to test him - when they were so dreadfully close to their goal. That scowl crossed his features as Frost's nose nudged at his pocket and the apple within, the treat clearly intended for later and yet, the Macedonian man was in no mood to put up with his steed when victory was just around the corner. Were it not for his impatience to have Xerxes blood on his sword, he likely would not have been so easily swayed. For tonight, however, it was merely that remark of indigestion that was provided to the horse before he fished that apple from his pocket, the Dark Hunter nimbly climbing upon the rather large creature but moments after that fruit was near devoured. His heels gingerly prodded into the horse's sides, wordlessly providing that command forward, all the while leaning closer to Frost's mane in an effort to reduce that rain that slapped into his face. Of course, it'd be raining, the water prompting a scowl upon his features, no matter the benefits such weather provided them.

That trek to the forest was far wetter then Alexander would have liked, the man almost pleased to see the forest line if only for the way it might break up that increasingly wet ride. He slid from Frost's back the moment the large stallion came to a halt, his gaze trained quite purposefully towards the ground, searching for something that hadn't been entirely turned to mud. It took him a moment to find those fallen leaves, the man gesturing the equine over towards him only to provide the man with a hint of the full breadth of that plan that lingered within his mind. Alexander could tell by voice alone that his companion was certainly not keen upon rolling in the leaves and yet, it was necessary to dilute as much of his scent as he could. Alexander was taking every advantage that the forest had to offer them. He watched as Frost’s large form made an effort to fulfill his request, the hunter following suit soon after despite how unbecoming such rolling in the mud surely was. That assurance that Frost intended to shower at his own home was met with a small shrug of indifference. After all, he was fairly certain the leaves could be plucked off long before he had to worry about such nonsense going down his drain. “Win tonight, and I’ll even let you use my good soap..” He responded, his voice near deadpan despite that almost teasing nature to them.

The Macedonian King glanced upwards at that rolling thunder, the sound of it prompted a small frown upon his lips. Though he was well aware of that rumbling sound’s ability to further mask their approach, a part of him was largely concerned how Frost might handle such a noise, particularly when compared with the small space of those encompassing trees. He approached the now grimes steed, his body once again easily finding its place upon Frost’s back, those Greek words ever so softly uttered towards the creature in a vague sense of reassurance before he encouraged the horse onwards and into that darkness beyond. His own attention was entirely steadfast in his surroundings, even though the King saw fit to near absentmindedly stroke his companion's neck in that continued effort to keep the stallion calm amongst those encroaching trunks. He was already preoccupied was alternative scenarios on the chance those deer made themselves scarce, at least, until Frost’s thoughts cut through it all, prompting his mind to a sort of stillness as he listened intently to those offered words.

It was no secret that names were of a distinctly important aspect in Alexander’s life, the man determined to ensure his own was not forgotten, thanks largely to his efforts to conquer what he knew, at the time, to be the entirety of the world. He hardly anticipated to be offered his companion's own, their comradeship was rather...questionable at times. He was silent for several moments after, the King fully aware of the importance of that event, much less the need to offer something in return. “It is Alexandros, though few remember that. English has a way of butchering much, doesn’t it, Rikharður?” Though the word was foreign, the pronunciation of that name was near as flawless as Frost’s own. He hardly saw a need to press them further on that unanticipated bonding, the hunter, as always, distinctly focused in those goals at hand. It was that mention of those deer, however, that saw him straighten upon the steed’s spine. “As many as possible. You were right on my intentions with them. Place us in the direction behind them and I will worry of the rest.” Keeping them moving in that herd was, after all, fully within Alexander’s ability. Xerxes had no idea what was coming for him.

Alexander Macedonia

Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own



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