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

surely, it gets dull just like any knife


Posted on July 08, 2018 by Malia Tate
West


She was watching the lion's reactions to every move she made, studying them to know when another opportunity would present itself. When the staff member gave the nod to start, she surged forward and could hear gasps from the crowd immediately at her bold first step. Even the lion, Leo, seemed taken aback by her need for action. But he recovered quickly enough, leaning back to take her down in one fell swoop. Well, not tonight. She slid under his paw, using her momentum and jaw strength to draw the first blood she was looking for. Now Leo would know not to underestimate her, but he would also be more careful if he was smart, and she had no doubts that he was. She had to judge this moment as his roar of pain filled the Ark. Would he react as a predator and attack blindly on pure instinct now that he'd been duped by a coyote, or would he calculate his next move carefully? She was sure as a male and as a lion (watch it, there's a pun coming), he was sure to have his pride (get it?), but would he let it lead him or would he overcome it? That was what she was looking for.

She watched the lion's fur go up along his spine, the very action making him an intimidating sight. He looked every bit like a deadly predator now, intent on her destruction. She licked her lips, goading him by tasting his blood even as she looked straight into his eyes, an obvious challenge. She was luring him every step of the way. She had fought against male coyotes most of her upbringing. Too often, they saw her as a weakling, a female, someone who needed to be put in her place. And each and every time, she'd stepped forward to show them just how strong she really was, and how her place was above them. Leo was much bigger than any of her former opponents in that coyote pack, but the bigger they are, the harder they fall. She just had to press all the right buttons. As the lion started toward her, the growl reverberating in his throat, she could feel the space between them growing smaller. The instinctive part of her knew she should fight it, should bolt out wide now and look for more distance so she didn't get cornered in the ring.

But Leo would be expecting that. He would watch for her to run and he would use that as his opportunity. He was trying to make her panic, look for a way out. He was counting on it so she would forget that he was still closing in and ready to attack and he would be able to connect a hit. That's all it would take. With the size difference between them, she was well aware one good hit is all it would take to knock her out. And so she breathed through the instinct to panic, her eyes watching him carefully, her feet firmly planted, daring him to keep coming. She would be in the greatest danger right here, but she would also be at her greatest advantage. The more he boxed her in, the more boxed in he would be. She would be well in reach of his jaws and claws, but he would be hampered for movement and would be slower. If he went for the bite, she would see it coming. If he tried to bat her with his paw, he would have to work it around the ropes on either side because his reach would be cut off.

She boldly took a step back further into the corner, wanting him as close to the ropes as possible. They would be her saving grace. He would think she was backing down, hoping to peacefully surrender or just growing scared and wanting mercy. But there was not a shred of fear in her scent. Only cautious calculations as she worked out a plan to retaliate and throw this in her favor. The lion stalked toward her, ever confident, but she coiled her back legs and waited, her tail flicking at her back legs. Her ears stayed trained on him, waiting for the tell tale sign of him making a move. And then it came. He suddenly shifted his weight back and launched himself airborne, coming straight at her, but also at the corner of the arena. His paw were also swiping, ready and waiting to rip her to shreds as his powerful jaws snapped at the air. Once again, she felt the overwhelming panic threatening to take her down, but she refused to let it. She held her ground till the last possible moment, then as a stray paw swept toward her head, she dodged under it and out of the corner, leaving him to come down right at the hard metal post left in her wake.

She felt his tooth catch the tip of her ear as she'd twisted to move, and felt the sting as she pulled it away with her sudden motion. Blood pooled at the tip already but she could care less. Scars were things to be proud of. At least his teeth had only found that and not her whole body. He had been swinging as he came down and with his momentum, he was sure to either slide right into the pole now or catch his front legs on it in his swinging motion. Either, she was sure, would hurt. She would take that opportunity, waiting for the force of his impact or sign of pain to launch at his hindquarters. She aimed for the thin flesh on the font of the joint where his tibia met his metatarsus, aiming to turn her head sideways and latch on before yanking her head to the side, hoping getting a good wound in that would make it painful for him to move on that back leg through the rest of the fight. It was just another hampering move on the lion, nothing to write home about, but it was a game move, anyway, because she had a plan.

She danced quickly out of the way before he could recover from his landing and swing around, moving back toward the opposite corner to give her more time to watch him. He would have expended some energy on that launch so it would leave him a little more winded. Surely with how big he was, he only had so much energy to use up before he was done anyway. She was counting on that, but also, on her small but meaningful attacks to dampen his ego and further demean him in front of the crowd. Meanwhile she would be like the annoying little mosquito that's just persistent enough to get under your skin. She would wear him down mentally as well as physically. She knew she couldn't get a bone shattering bite in like he could. Her jaws were just too small and he was too big. But she could break him down in other ways, make him lose a little blood here and there, make it irritating to him every time he goes to take a step and feels the sharp sting of wounded flesh rubbing against itself, first at his front elbow and now at his back leg.

A reminder of how she was thrawting him, over and over again. She didn't let any triumph show on her features, her face a cool mask of careful determination. Once he spun out of that corner, he was sure to be looking for retaliation. He would have the smallest taste of her blood, and the predator in him would want more. In a way, she wanted him to get blood in his mouth. Predators fed off the blood instinct. Once you get a taste, you almost go mad for more. It could help break down his careful planning a little, drive him a little more instinctive to make him that much more of an easier target. She continued to dance lightly on her feet in the opposite corner, watching and waiting for his next move. Blood dripped from her ear onto the mat at her paws. He was sure to smell it. Good. Let him breathe it in and start seeing red. She was counting on it.

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