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
virtue has a veil, vice a mask
Posted on February 16, 2017 by Raven Clocksworth
There were a few things that made Raven a bit unique. For starters her pelt markings were abnormal. All the other wolves within her pack held the same type of normal colored coats. She was the only one that stood out. In a way she was quite proud of her markings. No other wolf had silver and grey hairs that marked dragon wings across her shoulder blade and back. She was an outcast in her own former pack, but it wasn't because of her fur coloring. The extremely shy woman was ashamed to admit it, but she was capable of going feral. Being feral as a Were meant that while in her animal form she would be beast more than human. She could not recognize friend or foe most of the time. Anyone that was in her way would surely being harmed in one way or another. When she 'woke' up out of her terrifying stupor she barely wanted to see the aftermath of her wake. Her pack hated her for this disease that she had absolutely no control over. It was a risk she had to deal with every day. Thankfully though Raven was not feeling the dreadful touch of her feral side coming over. Hearing the woman speak of coming from a place where one shouldn't show they were a supernatural creature was quite odd.
In a way Raven was happy that her feral side wasn't a secret to her pack. They had every right to know. Just in case something terrible happened. The last thing she wanted to occur was if she harmed them or another innocent soul. She was well aware that taking the woman's weapon away from her would cause her to react in a defensive manner. Like how Tobias attacks his opponent within the Ark, neutralizing and eliminating their capability to attack. Of course Raven didn't want to keep the knife for herself. She simply wanted to make a point. She was the first Were to obtain all her powers, and she had them longer than most, and so she knew how to wield them and use them in a productive manner. Gently she had the knife return back to the woman, not wanting to accidentally cut her, as she sat there patiently. Hearing that she needed the knife to control herself caused her dial to tilt in a puzzling manner. Gently her voice presses into the witch again a hint of concern in her tone.
Sure she was prying, but she didn't mean to be rude about it. She was naturally curious. Serafina was a witch, with her own powers, but she never heard her say she needed an object to protect herself. Turning away she busied herself with packing up all her things. There was no need for her to remain here in this abandoned warehouse. Hearing her protest was met with indifference. Raven was determined to get the witch to a safer and secure area. Living in the West she knew this wasn't the most safest places, especially for someone alone. The witch was not a member of her pack nor was she a close friend, and yet that didn't mean she should not receive any sort of kindness. She walked away from the witch, her backpack and sword levitating in the air, waiting for the witch to grab them. As the wolf walked away she returned back into the shadows wanting a moment of privacy. Shifting in front of her pack wasn't a problem, she felt safe. She didn't know the witch. So, she shifts within the darkness, effortlessly, returning once more.
Slowly the young woman emerges from the safety of the darkened shadows. She is dressed in tattered blue jeans and a baggy black hoodie. Her golden-brown curls cascaded perfectly over her shoulders. Her dial would lift upwards slightly as her blue-grey eyes locked onto the woman. For a brief moment the jagged scars that crisscrossed over her arms could be visible. Slowly one hand lifted to the sleeve of her hoodie, bringing the cloth downwards to cover her arms. The one scar she could never cover were the four deep grooves that slid across her face. A tentative small smile appeared as she stood there waiting for the witch to accompany her to their new destination.