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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

well Sasha, if we don't die, we can go home101.191.91.80Posted On August 22, 2016 at 12:45 AM by Rixon Leifsson

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There is some part of him, loath though he is to admit it, that finds some solace in the words the Hunter so offers him within the touch of his native tongue. It is hardly a language Frost speaks, indeed the stallion has little knowledge of what the Hunter had said at all and yet there is something distinctly…..soothing about them all the same, the hand that finds his neck perhaps equally so. The man within him abhorring this weakness within himself and yet that part of him decidedly equine was almost content to…settle beneath that combination of touch and words. The stallion finding himself inclined to press onward despite the howling wind, allowing his own affinity to embrace the rider in an entirely uncharacteristic display of kindness. For all his perceived inadequacy, at least in terms of temperament, the creature- both man and equine, was perhaps not near so heartless as most would make him out to be. He is simply not inclined to afford any display of care, in any fashion, until he has been given a reason to do so. Trust within his fellow man perhaps a decidedly lacking quality. The stallion makes no move to dispel the silence they fall back within, ears rotated backward in some display of his inclination to listen to the man upon his back in the moments that followed, allowing the Hunter to guide him over that frozen wasteland and through that freezing, biting wind that had been the death of so many before them.

It is with no small amount of relief that the horse finds himself sheltered at last by the mountain that rises before them, the sweat upon his sides already dried and frozen, chilling at his skin were it not for his own affinity still working to chase away those fingers of cold the wind so seemed determined to lash upon them. Yet even despite the howling of the very air itself the sound of another being hardly escapes the stallions notice, head and ears lifted upward suddenly, violet gaze straining against the dark as his nostrils flare. The Were just as any horse in this regard, entirely capable of hearing, if not smelling the presence of others well before any human. His head jerks almost suddenly towards the shadow that detaches itself from the darkness, head tossed momentarily upward- assured Alexander had seen the impending threat by now- that stallion remaining within place for perhaps the first time. He is, evidently, content to display some level of training when he should so choose or indeed it is given to count. The vampire suddenly barrelling towards him merely sees the stallion eye the creature with some disdain, the horse preparing to shift his position in an effort to avoid further axe throws until the command to ‘be still’ seems to find him. A soft snort is huffed into the air and yet the stallion stills himself all the same, allowing Alexander alone to react, the sudden appearance of a spear almost unnoticed by the animal- the weapon held upon his blind side until the Hunter suddenly launches it. A huff of surprise released before he stills once more, gaze following the spear as it collides with the vampire, sending its body sprawling into the show.

Nice aim.

His ears prick forward once more, the stallion striding forward now and towards the crumpled body, heavy, feathered hooves carving a trail through the ice and snow before he pauses above the body, head lowered momentarily as if to inspect it before abruptly stepping over it- assured the vampire was entirely dead. This however, was unlikely to be the only one, the stallion continuing on- gaze fixated upon the dark and looming space within the side of the mountain- the very entrance the vampire must well have been guarding.

I have heard of Denisova Cave, but I have never seen it before until now. This I assume, will take us to where we want to go.

Not that he desired to. The mouth surely large enough to admit them both and yet the simple notion of the enclosed space of a cave sat poorly within him. It is perhaps the man’s single most potent weakness, one guarded more jealously then even his blinded eye. He fears narrow spaces, heavy frame already shifting with discomfort at the idea, the man reluctant to go forward even despite the touch of Alexanders heels at his sides. Sweat has already begun to form behind his ears and against his neck, staining the white fur a darker grey- the animal’s unease surely palpable. It takes several moments still before the horse at last presses forward and towards the entrance, one hoof pressing upon the stone within before Frost halts again. It is a nervousness he cannot explain, a fluttering within himself that grinds on his nervous and sees his heart rate increase. He loathes this feeling, hates to display such a weakness and yet he fears the space- just as any horse surely world. Yet even that human part of himself is reluctant to face it. It is still several more moments, the horse shifting about uneasily, before he at last presses forward and into the cave.

It is dark, dank and thoroughly icy within, his breath rising like smoke with every stride- the stallion distinctly nervous, his steps almost hurried with a desire to simply find the way out. It is, however, a particular scent that so seems to distract his attention as he snorts- the sound echoing within the empty space.

It smells of cat.

Whether or not the stench was strong enough to become apparent to his rider he hardly knew, Frost merely pressing forward. The cave providing a break from the wind if nothing else and yet still it hardly failed to fill the horse with any true confidence as he pressed deeper and deeper within. How long did this blasted cave intend to last?! His hooves crunch upon the ice, following what little of the path he can see, ears rotating atop his skull in search of even the slightest hint of any further vampires before a distinct light up ahead becomes visible, the stallion rounding the corner, finding himself upon a ledge of sorts that looked down into a terrifically wide cavern. Hooves paused atop the edge.

I think we were lied too. Either that, or Xerxes belief of what a small coven is vastly differs from my own. They sent us here to die.

The area below was near swarming with vampires, the coven having made its home within the very depths of the cave, several fires lit, a number of smaller caves breaking away from the main area leading to goodness knows where. A veritable vampire city.

What, might I ask, is your plan? There are humans here, somewhere, I can smell them. Though whether they are worth rescuing I remain undecided.

The words are offered straight to the man’s mind, Frost shifting slightly back from the edge and into the shadows lest any vampire look upward to see the horse poised upon the edge, a winding path to the side clearly visible and yet Frost holds little desire to take it.



Frostbite
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