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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!

wait for them to ask you who you know108.93.10.156Posted On November 05, 2017 at 4:48 PM by ASKAREE

askaree


The smile that rests in such salacious placidity upon the plump cushions of her lips tells faultlessly of the truth that she had not only known he would find her amongst the crowd that pulsed as a living thing about the chainlink ring, but also that he would come to her. They all did eventually, the allure of a pair of C-cups and the ripples of muscle that weaved a lascivious trajectory down the curves of her lithe frame nearly always proved a temptation far too promising for men (and women, lesbi-honest) to forgo. But she, too, caresses the muscular curves of her intended "prey" as he draws nigh to her, indulging the onslaught of recollections of what lay beneath the clothes of the Were king. Perhaps, depending on how the evening unfolded, she could refresh her memory...

A single brow pitches skyward at his query, his presumption. She knew that he had had precious little experience with her, but surely he was more intelligent than to assume that she would have anything to do with the kitty pride knock-off that the hot twins were attempting to rustle up. She had, admittedly, had the misfortune of stumbling upon one of the tattooed miscreants a few weeks prior; sadly, he had proven far less fun than the rumors had promised. "That rag tag group of mine? Come on now, King Puss," she purred, the serpentine smile spreading ever wider upon her exotic features. "Haven't you ever watched the Discovery Channel? Crocodiles don't socialize unless they're fucking, fighting, or feeding... and sadly that little band of merry men couldn't satiate any of my hungers." The rosy tip of her tongue slides ever so gently against the cushion of her top lip as if to punctuate the innuendo of her words.

"I just wanted to see for myself if the rumors were true, if the great Tetradore had defied death." Sarcasm bleeds from her every syllable, though the statement itself held some truth. "But now that I've seen it for myself I have to ask... is this really how you want to squander your 'second chance', hmm? Watching over the squabbles in your little chicken coop?" Askaree closes what little distance lay between them then, dark eyes locking with those of her counterpart, an insidious promise reflected in the glimmer that skates against every twist of color therein. "What if I could promise you a far more fulfilling evening?" The Egyptian minx leans in then, the tempting warmth of her breath brushing against his ear as she whispers what is hardly a request. "Come on, your Majesty, take me to your chariots..."



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