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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!

And once again we’ll gallop cross this sea90.220.54.113Posted On April 17, 2017 at 6:02 AM by Florentine Winter

FLORENTINE WINTER

Keenly Flora pockets the blood red diamond at Kearn’s command. It is spirited away to her coat so swiftly even the air that kissed the ruby stone is not sure the necklace had ever been there.

The air shifts and Florentine notes how, suddenly, everything feels like a tangle of worlds: colliding and rubbing. The air is hot with friction though its touch is still like ice – hot, savage ice. The irony is not lost on the child and memories of her dreams return unbidden, adorned in flowers and feathers and twisting landscapes. She does not know what to make of them. What to make of the fallen unicorn girl.

Kearn tongue skips them on and claims his protégé’s attention. Life is simple with him. With Kearn, Flora’s dreams mean nothing. Yet as Flora’s green eyes fall upon this naked stranger, she wonders if this woman brings meaning to every dream she brushed away beneath her pillow… She crouches, her wide, wide eyes narrowing their focus as she slinks forwards. There is nothing predatory in her approach, she is rapid and fast, an eager dog slinking up to its superior. “You hunt anything and everything: witches, were-beings, vampires, faeries…” The words tumble off her tongue; all informing, all excited, all in awe.

Back onto her haunches Flora crouches to better let her words have space and settle upon the fallen Calliope; to better see what effect they may bring. Only when Calliope brings the horn to slice across her chest does Flora step back, Kearn’s hard warning finally heeded. “Well that’s a bit dramatic.” She huffs before her eyes flit to Kearn knowingly, “She’s definitely a hunter then.”

Green eyes follow the trickle of blood, the passing of a slender fingertip through the crimson stream and Florentine’s nose crinkles with distaste. Her brows rise up, up, up as if to reach the tear in the worlds through which the huntress has fallen. Reaching into her other pocket, she produces a handkerchief, as grubby as her face, and hands it to Calliope. “You may wanna….y’know…” A finger wags towards the woman’s weeping cut.

At Kearn’s introduction Flora drops into a curtsy, a thing not nearly as balletic as a curtsy should be, but fortunately possessing every bit of grace she had learnt upon the streets.

Swiftly the woman is standing, limbs unfolding effortlessly as Kearn’s coat falls away like a second skin – tired and old. Flora stands back to allow the tall woman past. Her face is upturned, her eyes watching the woman slink by in a manner more predatory and dangerous than Flora could ever be. Behind Calliope, Flora’s gaze flops back to Kearn. “You really do find ‘em.” She accuses, fixing him with a pointed stare and a roll of her eyes (for good measure). Hunter’s were dangerous creatures at the best of times, but if you were lucky, you may find one that didn’t kill everything in sight. Naked hunters with big swords though, Flora felt pretty sure they weren’t gunna be the most stable creature to keep around…

“So!” She chimes quickly, grabbing Kearn’s discarded coat from the floor when it became apparent Calliope had no intention of returning to put it on again. “You may wanna wear this to our place… People tend to get sensitive about nakedness and I am sure it’s illegal.” Once again her eyes fix imploringly back upon Kearn. Enduring a night at the police station because of a naked hunter was not how Flora intended to spend her evening. Besides, wasn’t it only yesterday she had drawn a moustache on a ‘Wanted’ poster featuring Kearn’s face and added an extra 0 to the price? Not that you would ever catch her admitting it, but sometimes Flora lay awake at night, just imagining all the things she could do with the reward money.

Just one look at his grumpy face, however, will always remind her she never could. Theirs was a bond of life now – they had saved each other too many times to let money come between them. But a girl could dream.


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