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    The West

    The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a certain grunge that permeates the town from the graffiti on the once cleaned brick buildings to the broken and unmaintained architecture. Crime runs high within the western half of town, making it the home of supernatural gangs of illicit activities. Such activities are rarely reported however, and most residents are distrustful of individual's of authorities, instead letting the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.

    What's You'll Find Here

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    Noah's Ark

    owned by Aiden Tetradore
    1 employees

    Noah's Ark

    Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark appears to be little more than an abandoned cargo ship. Accessible from an entrance hidden in the shadows, The Ark is a veritable Were-playground that specializes in fighting tournaments for all creatures great and small. With both singles and doubles tournaments to compete in, the title of Ark Champion is hotly contested amongst the Were population. If anything illegal is going on in the city it's sure to be happening within the back rooms or behind the ring-side bar.

    Owner Aiden Tetradore

    Co-owner Tobias Cain

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    Warehouse District

    Warehouse District

    The warehouse district rests just upon the harbor within the city. Many of the warehouses belong to corporate companies although some are used for less the legal means. Be careful when wandering this district at night for many groups meet within those dark, dilapidated buildings. There are also whispers of hard to obtain goods being sold behind those closed doors but you have to know who's who to get an in!

I am a truth-maker 50.189.190.200Posted On April 13, 2017 at 8:33 PM by calliope


It's a blaze of light and heat. Everything smells like blood and the air is heavy with charred flesh and the crack, crack of changing.

In only a moment-- too quick for thunder-- Calliope's universe is torn asunder. Pure electricity burns away her fur and flesh and whittles down her deadly horn to nothing but tender, pale skin. She's swallowed up in a rift.

Down, down, down she tumbles. Down between worlds and galaxies and centuries she goes. She falls between a thousand different dreams and deaths. All at once she's there and not there. Calliope wonders in that odd between being if she has ever been at all.

And then, suddenly, she's not falling at all.

Suddenly there is stone at her back and the smell of rabid magic fades too decay and metal. Only the blood smell remains and some other nameless smell that she has yet to realize is her.

There's a certain fear in her confusion. The skin on her bones is unfamiliar. Where she should be able to see her horn against the moon she can only see a glaring, flickering light that echoes and hums in her veins. She lifts a leg, an arm, a hand (all parts of her she cannot name) and her heart flutters weak and panicked to see not blackness but pale, fragile skin.

Above her the light sparks and fades to the blackness and somehow the shadows are a comfort as she wobbles and sways on legs that cannot quite balance.

She lifts a hand, bloody and torn to wipe away the strange curtain across her eyes. The movement stretches and tugs at a patchwork of black, lighting scars across her back and entire left side. She gasps with the pain of the movement and the light above her head explodes against into weak, unnatural light.

And the girl that is naked and swaying (lost, lost, lost in her own body) whispers in a language she didn't know she knew. “Am I dreaming now?”



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