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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!

this is madness, madness50.189.190.200Posted On April 14, 2017 at 12:04 PM by calliope


Strange, strange, strange. The word rattles around in her head. All at once everything is too bright, too loud and the man walking towards her on two legs (magician, sinner, monster) is too large for the way her vision gets narrower and sharper. She's not ready to know who he is and it's a challenge to translate the sharpness of his voice.

To her his lips and teeth and tongue move in unnatural ways. He's too quick and alive with movement.

Calliope on the other hand is still as marble She's frozen in a dangerous kind of way as his coat irritates her tender nerves. She wants to shrug it off, this strange skin that passes so easily from body to body. Some instinct stills her and she only tugs the sides of it closer to her chest and lets her new, pale skin hide beneath his.

In the silence she ponders him with steely, frozen eyes that are more ancient than anything in this world. Her swaying stills, joints locked by instinct alone. It's terrifying; the way she freezes like some predator and the tender panic fades to fearlessness.

“I'm alone. What place is this?” Her voice is strange, heavy with fading magic and blood-lust. There is a legend flickering in those old eyes as she looks over his shoulder to the towering walls all around her. It's too much, these walls and stones and the way they block out the moonlight. She's trapped by bones and the wrong skin and towers of brick that seem to swallow up her soul.

Calliope should feel the fear again. She should feel something other than the hum of electricity in her blood and a killing type of hollowness in her marrow.

There's a flash of light, muted stardust, in the corner of her vision and she looks down to the strange, sword at her feet. It's black as night and twisted into a long spiral of sharp edges with a hilt of rubies and black glass.

The sword is not a sword at all.

At her feet is her horn, re-made for this new body but it's still crusted with dried blood and charred from star-fire. Calliope bends down to pick and it and a tear leaks from her icy eyes for the horror of feeling it as something other than a part of her.

It almost takes her years to look up at him again and all those years she remembers. Oh how she remembers. “What am I?” There's a lion in her voice, an echo of a unicorn.

And under it all there's still the cold voice of a killer, of a queen, of a hunter who tore apart a world with her brand of justice.



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