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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

says the man allergic to cats60.227.196.119Posted On December 21, 2016 at 12:29 AM by Rixon Leifsson


In all those battles he’d seen, in all those wars he’d witnessed, it had been quite a long time since he had seen any being, Hunter, horse or otherwise whom had proven to be as entirely as proficient as he current companion. His warning in regards to that approaching night walker had barely left his lips before Alexander so sought to move against him with the butt of his sword, a second vampire but moments behind, this one managing to sink his teeth into the Hunter’s neck before Frosts own attention is forced to deviate. That third vampire, like the others, hardly seemed even remotely interested in Frost himself, the equine inclined to wonder once more whether these near ancient vampires held any true knowledge of Were’s else merely believed he was no more than a horse and as such afforded him no intrigue. Such a thing might yet prove to be useful, Frost content to play just that part, shifting his feet as if made nervous by those cries and shouts and flailing weapons until the third vampire had so foolishly slid behind him. It is with striking ease the stallion so throws his weight forward and onto his forelegs, his rear legs lifted up just enough to see them fire backwards and collect the vampire in one potent strike, crushing him with sickening force against that cave wall, leaving the creature bloodied and broken, hardly dead, though well and truly incapacitated for now.

A snort of disdain erupts from within his nostrils echoing around that cavern as his single good eye rotates back to his companion, head lowering to sink his teeth into one of those vampires before watching the Hunter dispatch both his assailants in the same moment, one upon each end of that stake. The stallion allowed himself to appear momentarily impressed in whatever fashion a horse might ever appear impressed, turning his head away from the hunter as Alexander moved to finish the vampire he had kicked into the wall. If the deaths of the creatures afford him any discomfort the equine hardly shows it, Frost stepping over one of those fallen creatures with hardly a care. This….disengagement from the world around him perhaps one of the few things those Hunters had never had to teach him, Frost content enough to remain disengaged from the world at large. As if nothing ever so truly affected him. A useful personality trait perhaps, for anyone faced with death after death.

The silence that followed Alexanders muttered words was oppressive, almost heavy, nearly all those ragged humans having managed to turn their heads towards their unexpected saviours in that moment, the strongest amongst them even managing several steps towards Alexander before seeming unable to decide whether the Hunter truly was friend or foe and yet even Frost was unwilling to believe three vampires was all these caverns and catacombs held. Three however, seemed to have been all that was present in this immediate moment, those humans seeming to act as if no more vampiric eyes rested upon them. Frost wholly intelligent enough to deduce that in the least and yet what to do with so many humans presented another problem, especially when well over half of them were struggling to stand. One snowy ear curves neatly back to the Hunter now, his own power extended to press upon the Hunters mind alone.

What do you want to do with them all? We can try and shepherd them out, I suppose and yet how long that tunnel is to reach the outside I hardly know, I cant keep this many of them warm once we get outside either- maybe we ought to leave some of them. They will die anyway.

It was a harsh way to look at it, perhaps and yet Frost was nothing if not a realist in every sense of the word. Forming emotional attachments, attempting to be moral were positive things, he supposed and yet there were times and places when such idle things held little value. No perhaps, one of those times. It is that scent of blood, so pungent and metallic that sees his own head lift, eyeing that bite wound upon Alexanders neck, even Hunters slow to heal from the bite of a vampire, the scent hardly one they needed spread throughout those caverns and yet for now at least the equine says nothing on it. His mind far more inclined to consider how long they had until any more vampires appeared. These caves a veritable nest. His own heavy form shifts slightly with unease once more, one ear trained on that tunnel behind them, the other rotating about that room in an effort to assure little escaped his notice- movement to the side so seeing his attention shift to that crowd of humans. A young woman was attempting to clutch onto another, shouting something in Russian about her need to stay, the other clearly less inclined to listen, breaking away from her companion to head for that tunnel in an apparent desperate bid for freedom.

Damn woman, if she goes shouting down there she will bring the vampires. I’ll bring her back. You calm that one down before the starts a god damn riot.

He leaves Alexander to calm the dark haired girl now shouting hysterically for her friend to return in that same loud Russian, Frosts own form breaking forward into a lope, attempting to soften his footfall as much as possible and prevent the echo of his hooves as he took off after that ridiculous girl. The woman found blundering about in that tunnel crossroads, utterly unable to work out which way to run, convincing her to return sure to be no easy task. Her wild, panicked eyes merely fall upon him, confusion seeming to register upon her features, clearly having not anticipated a horse, the Russian word for stallion slipping from her lips several times before she so attempted to scramble onto his back. Very well. His form turns back to that tunnel, Frost unwilling to leave Alexander unattended, the woman frantically tugging at his mane and kicking at his side in some effort to steer him towards another of those tunnels, shouting the word ‘Vourdalak’ over and over. He knew enough Russian to carry out most conversations and yet this was not a word he had ever heard. Vourdalak? What on earth was Vourdalak? Her name perhaps? His own head angles back towards the woman atop his spine, eyeing her a moment now, those Russian words passed from his mind to her own so inquiring exactly as to what this word meant.

The stunned silence that follows is punctuated only by her screaming once more at the ‘devil horse that spoke’, her screams echoing off those walls like a siren as she near flung herself from his back, racing into the nearest tunnel. It is her mind however, that provides him that clue, her thoughts more logical then her words as she flees. The image of a distinctly feminine vampire resting within his mind, one decidedly akin to the woman he had left Alexander to ‘calm’. God damn it.His own large form pivots once more, crashing back down that tunnel with decidedly little care in an effort to get back to his rider, Frost almost…surprised at his own determination to reach the man, reaching for his mind in those same moments in some effort to provide the Hunter a warning. Alexander, surely, with all his age, knew the word well enough to respond to it.

Alex! The woman is a Vourdalak

The words were no sooner pressed upon his companions mind then that raven haired women the Hunter so appeared to be attempting to comfort disappeared from before him entirely, reappearing suddenly at his left, grasping the Hunter by his very shirt before hurling the man like a rag doll halfway across the cave. Well. She seemed distinctly stronger than normal. Some power, evidently, blocking that vampiric signature and making her appear wholly human. At least until the throwing. Frost so skidding to a halt mere feet from her, the woman’s teeth bared towards him now as perhaps the only affinity it could so think to use in that moment flared to life. Her teeth met his skin barely a moment later, the vampire roaring in pain in the same action before releasing him, her lips and tongue burned from his overheated skin, one foreleg striking out in an effort to knock her away from him only to find she had disappeared once more.

I can’t see her anymore.




Frostbite
♥dante



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