West

The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a grunginess 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, and often let the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.

What You'll Find Here

Black Market
Cull & Pistol
Noah's Ark
Syn

THE KITTEN KING; me and the devil, walking side by side


Posted on June 09, 2016 by ASKAREE
West

Askaree Bint Bahar


Of all the sordid places he could have chosen to do this thing... Why the hell couldn't they just have perpetrated this little rendezvous beneath the eerily flickering streetlight of a seedy alleyway or in some hygenically-challenged, squalid dive. Oh wait, they were. The notion might have pulled the chiseled facade of the Egyptian Were into that characteristic devil's smirk were it not for the dismal truth of her present situation. At some not-so-far-off juncture in time, perhaps when she had been forced to move her houseboat further down the dock because the goddman vibrations coming off of the Ark had proven nearly insanity-inducing to her ophidian self, Askaree had vowed never to grace this filthy little tugboat with her presence. Alas, here she stood in the looming shadow of the Westside's most prominent blemish all because Davante's clients were a carnival of fucking morons. This particular fucking moron had chosen the Ark as their hand-off locale because, she could only presume, he preferred to conduct his business whilst watching the animalistic slap-fights that were the staple of this particular business.

"You comin' in, sweetheart," came the paradoxically brusque and teasingly saccharine notes of the front-door stooge who, from the looks of the distended veins that strained beneath the flesh of his arms and neck, appeared as a sausage determined to burst from the holds of its casing. With naught more than a practiced look of apathetic boredom and the saluting of a choice finger did Askaree finally traverse the border between dock and dingy.

Hardly do her burgundy eyes peruse the scene before her; when you've seen one, you've seen them all as far as she was concerned. And Askaree had given her patronage to enough bars, dives, and backyard breweries to maintain a healthy confidence in this particular assertion. Instead does she meander about, though hardly are her advances aimless, the only precautious measure taken by the booze-hound is to maintain a socially acceptable distance between herself and the bar... at least until she found the one tool she was looking for in this metaphoric Home Depot. Jesus, was she going to need a drink after this...



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