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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 first is a good teacher101.191.241.87Posted On April 17, 2016 at 2:17 AM by Rixon Leifsson

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For a brief moment the equine is left to consider whether or not Alexander had actually packed anything other then jackets, the Hunter seeming to have taken it upon himself to layer himself with as many as were readily available, as if he perhaps doubted the stallions ability to provide him with a far more efficient source of heat. For now however, Frost makes no move to either question his companions ridiculously puffy appearance or offer him any alternative, the longer the Hunter could last without requiring any more supernaturally provided warmth the less Frost was required to use in the long run. One ear turns briefly towards Cassandra as the hunter woman speaks, outlining the plan to Alexander, Frost merely listening in silence before shifting subtly to the side for the third time as the boy near topples from the small fence with the effort of attempting to hold up the cumbersome pack saddle. His small, frustrated voice earning little more than a huff from the war horse before Alexander himself moves. The heavy, crunching sound of the man’s feet on snow alert the Were to his companions position even as he disappeared within that blanket of darkness his right side had become- a hand pressing against his flank offering an unspoken command- one the pair had worked on numerous times and one Frost understood. Today however, he sees little true need to argue it, Alexanders thoughts easily received through the link they shared, the irritable note to the Hunter’s inner voice seeming to result in the stallion shifting sideways and allowing the small boy to, finally, place the saddle on his back. For now, at least, Frost was unwilling to press Alexander into having to ask again for what he wanted.

The saddle however, was heavier then it looked, a grunt of disapproval forced from his lips as the boy hurriedly climbed down from the fence to begin doing up the chest plate with a grateful smile at Alex. Cassandra was at last satisfied enough with this progress to return her attention to the task at hand- moving to pass in front of Frost, handing her fellow Hunter a folded paper and a GPS.

That’s a map of the area, there is a route plotted on it for you already, the GPS will work right up until the mountains, if you get past the snow fields you will need the map after that, the mountains will block the GPS signal. We haven’t quite had anyone make it past the Snow Fields yet, they are very vast and there is no shelter once you are on them- that is where we keep losing men and animals. You can always turn back though.

She was, Frost had decided, the cheeriest provider of bad news he had ever met, even her position within Siberia, a post he hardly doubted any other hunter’s fought over seemed unable to dampen her enthusiasm for her work. Jacob rather suddenly doing up the girth strap in an effort to suffocate him sees the ears of the stallion pin back, tail flicking in mild agitation before the small human finishes with the final strap. It is the sudden appearance of a length of rope that sees the stallion eye the boy with suspicion once more, Jacob reaching up to tie it around the stallion’s neck before handing the other end to Alex.

It’s so you don’t get separated if your leading him, if you get stuck in a blizzard you won’t see a horse this pale even if he’s two feet in front of you. It also makes it easy to tie him to a tree at night. There’s a bridle in one of the bag’s too if you need it. You’re ready to go now. Do you need a stool or something to get on? You’re really short.

A rasping sound very akin to laughter hisses between the stallion’s teeth, Frost half inclined to believe that the weight of the man’s jackets alone might render him in need of a stool as he waits for the Hunter to climb on. It is fortunate perhaps that even with three jackets Alexander is hardly a heavy person, the saddle alone more weight than the horse is used to carrying, the feel of it foreign and not entirely comfortable. For once, Frost is at least inclined to wait for Alexander to ask him to move, his own ears turned backward, he himself listening for any final instructions Cassandra might have been content to give. That Cassandra had moved however, remains outside the stallions knowledge, the woman evidently oblivious to her fault as she wanders around behind the stallion, her position on his right side assuring he is hardly aware she has moved at all as she allows one hand to absentmindedly touch his flank. A touch he neither expects nor anticipates from the darkness. Each muscle seizes rapidly, offering a split second for Alexander perhaps, to realise what is about to occur, his reaction no more than instinct, one even his human mind cannot entirely overpower as he lunges suddenly forward, one hind leg shot out with violent force before the solid –smack- of hoof colliding with flesh resounds. Cassandra rendered momentarily airborne before tumbling into the snow with a holler of outrage.

Whatever the woman is shouting however, Frost has little desire to hear, the stallion taking advantage of their forward momentum to continue forward- perhaps far faster then Alexander truly desires to go- the feeling of the saddle irritating the temperamental stallion all the more before each muscle seizes again. Frost is content to launch himself from the ground no less than twice in a succession of bucks (a habit he has developed nearly every time they train, if only to test whether Alexander is truly awake) before he seems to decide the entire situation is acceptable, slowing to an easy, smooth and far more ride-able canter now- cold wind whipping in every direction and snow flying out easily behind him.

She’ll live, I didn’t hit her that hard. Now which way are we going? You’ve got the GPS. I need to stretch my legs some more- can you handle a gallop?.




Frostbite
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