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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

BLEED THE STING OF FEAR AGAIN {open}24.34.233.58Posted On May 18, 2017 at 11:00 AM by ESHEK


It all starts and ends with fire.

Everything can be created from ash and dust and death.

The flames lick at the bones and the flesh and the eyes. They smother out the real and fill it with the immortal.

Words are etched on the once-girls marrow and her soul withers and dies in the shell of her poor, charred body. Gone is the young witch who wanted to taste of power and violence. Gone is the girl who loved and dreamed and opened a bible of something long, long lost. Gone are her pretty green and perfect eyes.

Now there is only Eshek. It is she who crawls from the fire that ends at the lines of a circle. It's her bones that creak and her flesh that stings along the edges of the raw, copper tattoo down her side. Her body slides through the ash that was once some plush, imported carpet.

And it's Eshek that stands and sways in the wreckage of a golden and gaudy room that smells only like smoke and death and space.

In a moment everything belongs to her-- this life, this wealth and the fire licking along her flesh that doesn't burn.

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She's a supernova of heat in the night. The night fades before the brightness of her, the black turns gray and the gray turns to moonlight and stardust. She's a galaxy of glitter and glitz and everything about her bleeds fire and opulence. Everything is red and black and diamonds (and that ash smell that never quite goes away). Her legs are steady through the streets and there is a certain touch of death and danger to the glittering girl that walks through the alleys full of the degenerate and the dying.

When she touches them it's to leave a line of ash across their broken brows and to light the fires of garbage that will keep them warm.

On she walks, lighting the dark and banishing the cold night in the fire of her. On past the slums and the forgotten places. Eshek walks until the gross turns to gold and the dark turns to muted, welcoming light. She walks until a line of bars stretches out before her and when she walks into one it's with a spark of fire at the edges of her smile.

It's easy to sit in this body among all the others that don't know of dragons and universes and of a death that never dies. It's easy to smile and order her scotch on the rocks. Being alone in the corner of the bar doesn't bother her.

Eshek's always been alone-- forever is too long to love.

And it's easy to snap her fingers and set all the alcohol aflame the moment before she drinks it.



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