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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

Dead man walking;184.148.34.166Posted On December 05, 2017 at 7:41 AM by Brennan O'Connell

all that is gold does not glitter
not all who wander are lost


Brennan was by no means concerned whether or not the monster was hurt, it was his intention to inflict damage so that the creature could meet its demise without demolishing the whole bloody block. It had no place here on this earth. His mind still reeled with the confusion as to why or better yet how these demonic creatures had followed him here. He would have been all too content to never lay eyes on one of those ugly mugs again and yet here he was. Would he ever truly be free from the shackles of hell? Perhaps it was always meant to be his tormenter. Or perhaps something was terribly wrong and he would need to eventually get around to fixing it. Somehow, but he had enough on his own plate to keep himself occupied. Demons were far worse creatures than their beasts. It was a hell of a pity he knew this and it could be his last mistake. He couldn’t help but wonder if the very fabric of reality had been somehow torn wide open when he had returned. Things couldn’t ever be simple, could they? Not that the Irish man ever really took the easy way in anything that he did. Everything with Brennan had always been so complicated.. Yeah, sure things would get close to it, perhaps he might even get to enjoy it for a short time, but it was always so fleeting like reaching out at ghosts.

Somehow his words were taken quite literally, the sarcasm quite evident within the young woman’s words. He scoffs at her, shaking his head slightly. Time was of the essence and yet he still managed to speak the words. “Lucky me, I found a smartass.” That irish lilt announced with his own brand of sarcasm. Just like that, the angry beast sliced at him with a clawed hand, his grotesque face drew close enough that Brennan could smell his putrid breath, it smelled of death. That filthy talon made purchase upon his upper arm, deep enough to hurt and shallow enough not to do any major damage, more of his silver blood that betrayed him of his species bubbled to the surface, it cut through the leather of his favourite jacket. He hissed from the sharp pain, he would need a lot of disinfectant and booze after this. That crazed beast was certainly going to pay. With that there was no doubt.

Regardless, his plan was relatively close to perfect so long as she played her part. It was strange, he had been alone for so long that working with another was entirely foreign.

After slicing a perfect envelope for him to put the grenade in, Malia got the beast to rear up once more as if she could train the thing. Quickly and way to close to comfort to the distracted beast he plunged that grenade within his chest. He put that distance between him and it. But time was of the essence, telling her it was now. They had to put some distance between them. For a moment he thought he would have to pry her off the crazed beasts back, did she not understand the urgency? Did she not understand the meaning of explosion, things that went kaboom often did not discriminate who it claimed? Did she not realise that if she were still upon the beasts back that she would most likely be gravely injured or included in the scraps of flesh that the beast would be reduced to when the grenade within the putrid scaly creature went off. The force within his words was somehow penetrated that sarcastic demeanour.

He held his breath for but a moment, ready to set into action. All while the beast clawed at his own wound where blood seeped. He had damn hoped he put that grenade in deep enough. Finally, the were woman leapt off the beast with a grace that no mere mortal could ever possess, besides the clawed hands, she appeared animalistic, wild even. Once he was sure she was dislodged from the creature, they darted away from the creature. She ran with impressive speed, he followed behind her, at least he could shield the woman from the explosion if needed be. He watched the way she moved smooth and fast like a wolf running with trained ease through the forest. Unfortunately, the beast behind them had noticed they left. He could hear the irate creature behind them, the ground seemed to shudder beneath its impressive weight, clearly slowed from its injuries (thankfully). All he needed to do was just put enough space between them and the beast. In his mind, he had already been doing the countdown of detonation. All they needed was a little more time.


Seconds seemed like minutes and minutes felt like hours. The were-woman slowed and it felt like a good enough place to stop. An iconic one sided smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as if that look knew all too well what would happen at any second.

She questioned what was to happen. He simply raised a brow and her question is answered by a smothered bang, the ground shook and the beast let out one last cut off guttural bellow. The beast quite literally exploded into millions tiny pieces, forced apart viciously. At this point there wasn’t much left of the beast that had been attacking the odd duo moments earlier. Who would have thought of a half canine woman and a lame excuse for a warlock would bring down one of the larger demonic creature he had ever seen. Even in his time within that hell dimension he knew better to pick a fight with these dumb brutes if he could help it.

His silvery blue eyes peer at her, taking in the young woman, claws dripping in black blood. She seemed like she was in one piece and not injured. “That.” He responded, running a hand through the messy mahogany locks. Unfortunately, they did not leave enough space between them and the beast to completely avoid the aftermath in the form of flesh, gooey black blood and whatever else the creature was made up as. In the middle of his next words the Irishman was nailed square in the face with a sloppy piece of flesh. It sounded wet and disgusting. For a moment he is stilled, stunned, blinking, immediately wiping the black goo from his face. “Lovely..” Sarcasm oozing from this one singular word that escapes him now. He could really use that comforting burn of whiskey and nothing but the sweet sound of the waves sloshing against the hull.

At least there wasn’t very much left of the obliterated creature to discern that the hell it could have been. The child’s playground had been lay to waste by beast goo, flesh and whatever miscellaneous pieces that belonged to the beast. It was entirely coated.

“I pity the person who has to clean that up...” He gestures toward the mess of the creature they had slain, shrugging. He smirked, the mere look had seemed antagonizing. The irish man raised a singular brow as if expecting to get a rise out of the woman. Or maybe he was just lucky. Regardless, they had made it in one piece, despite a little less clean and a few minor injuries that would heal somewhat quickly if he cleaned them soon. The cut on his face the deeper wound on his upper arm, that tore through his beloved jacket stung. He had felt far worse pain than this that this was nothing but a mere annoyance. Even if the silly girl had somehow received a blow to her head she was in one piece and at least that could be considered a victory. But at the end of it all, she had listened to him and that was the reason that she was still alive.

It was obvious she was a were of some sort. He wondered if she would be somewhat coherent after what they had experienced, he imagined most wouldn't be. “Is that the only part of you that turns furry?” He dared to ask, the warlock entirely amused by the bloodied claws the young woman wore. He was well aware that somehow he would need to figure out this breach into that hell dimension into this world, but that night was sure as hell not tonight.

Brennan O'Connell




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