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    The North

    Within the Northern vicinity of the city the wealthy gather behind meticulously trimmed hedges and high class victorian architecture. The streets are paved with stone, the buildings are made of brick, and the storefronts are brightly lit and inviting. In the North every establishment is made to cater to the rich and the wealthy. Many such places are used to the sometimes peculiar requests of the otherworldly but here there is little that money cannot buy - weather it be illegal or merely looking the other way. Vampires and Dark Hunters are often found upon these Northern streets, their long lives often contributing to their sizable wealth which allow them the luxuries that the North provides.

    What's You'll Find Here

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    St. Pancras Station

    owned by Eve Thorn
    0 employees

    St. Pancras Station

    A historical train station renovated in to a luxury resort-style country club that unites Victorian elegance with contemporary style. Relax in the full-service spa featuring spa treatments, saunas, spa pools with hydro therapy & aqua bar, and relaxation lounges. The club offers many dining and entertainment options including Seven Sisters Lounge, Victoria Bistro, Barlow Gastropub and the formal St. Pancras restaurant as well as boutique shopping and event halls. Join The Chambers Club for a more exclusive entertainment experience.

    Owner Eve Thorn

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    The VooDoo Room

    owned by Ceara Hade
    0 employees

    The VooDoo Room

    The Voodoo Room is an award winning bar that aims to provide an eclectic and exotic atmosphere. The bar is filled with intoxicating liquors and a voodoo vibe to keep you coming back. Their mixologists meet the highest standards with our fantastical themed selections of cocktails and specials.

    Owner Ceara Hade

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    The Witchery

    owned by Rowena Metcalf
    1 employees

    The Witchery

    Dark, gothic, and throughly theatrical, the Witchery is a place to indulge yourself with it's fabulously lavish suites. Whatever room you choose, you'll find glamor, indulgence and luxury. The suites you have to choose from are: the Vestry, Sempill, the Old Rectory, the Library, the Turret, Heriot, Guardsroom, Armory.

    Owner Rowena Metcalf

    Sous Chef Elenore Dorian

the moon is always full for us; On April 14, 2017 at 4:51 PM by kearn.

it's a shallow little world

This close up, he could see where the Viking got his reputation. He was all sun-drenched lion, resplendent on his savannah, brutal and sure in his power. Kearn is a crow: sometimes careful, sometimes bold, always quick; a small thing pulling at the feathers of those bigger and better.

And god help him, he can see this lion’s tail is already twitching in irritation.

Kearn said nothing in response to the male’s rebuke and order, only offers him a close-mouthed smile and watches for a moment in silence as people pass through the park. Even as the offender, he is as uninterested in excuses as the viking surely is; they are both men of action, in their own ways. He finds that his tardiness has one benefit, at least - it is lunchtime, and all the rich businessmen who cater to the even more rich are emerging from their offices, pouring out of their gleaming buildings. People who make six figures don’t eat at their desks.

Curiously, they steer clear of the bench that Dvaerg has staked out, and any glances that do come their way are hastily averted. Maybe these people had some instinctual sense that told them that a lion was here.

Ah, but people aren’t afraid of crows.

Kearn stands and meanders into the crowd, his gaze light as a feather as it touches each potential mark. He does his best to ignore the giant of a man on the bench, but even the sun feels weaker with that gaze watching. Kearn schools his features into friendly hopefulness, adjusts his gait, straightens his shoulders, and heads for a group of dark-suited men near a babbling fountain. When he reaches them, he makes to walk through the cluster of bodies -

and he trips.

He’s all mortified apologies as a middle-aged man reaches out to steady him, clasping his wrist, his cheeks turning pink as the other men shuffle back and check their phones self-consciously.

“So sorry - I’m late for an internship interview-”
“No worries, young man -”
“Thank you, sir!”

And just like that it’s over, and the man who’d helped him even wishes him luck before heading off again with his coworkers. Kearn allows himself a brief smile as he turns back, straightening his jacket, pocket heavier with the weight of the man’s Vacheron Constantin. The smile is gone by the time he returns to the bench, and somewhere deep inside he’s thinking please god don’t let him be pissed off further. Kearn didn’t need to be a part of the Utlagi - but that didn’t mean he didn’t want it. There were only so many doors he could pick open on his own.

Smoothly he tosses the $20,000 watch to the viking, its gleaming face catching sunlight with a brief wink. “I won’t be late again.” His voice is level as polished slate; Kearn is a lot of things - many of them unsavory - but a liar isn't one of them.


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