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

this is how legends are made


Posted on December 14, 2019 by ASKAREE
West

askaree


It hardly bothers her that he cannot immediately locate her within what is surely a vast mental menagerie of female faces. Quite some time had passed since their little adventure on the yacht and the Egyptian woman had made herself remarkably scarce a presence otherwise. One of many perks to her notable lack of ties to bind her to this place or any other. Instead does she linger in silence for a long moment, allowing her eyes to peruse unapologetically... yes indeed, she recalled what he looked like beneath the thick fabric of his hoodie. The Were King's response, though, draws the honey-hued pools of her eyes upwards, an insidious grin blooming as some barb-ridden blossom upon the pout of her lips. "Fuck off, Kitty. You and I both know that if I really, really wanted to turn the music down I'd just abra-cadabra the shit out of your speaker system and then all your cage tussles would be forced to go a cappella. Besides, I wouldn't walk my happy ass down here for something so... trivial."

Brushing past the loitering alpha in a markedly feline manner, the Egyptian wench ventures a number of steps into the would-be Captain's quarters, eyes running a swift yet studious trajectory about the space before she spins upon her thick-soled heals to face her counterpart once more. "I have come with an offer of fun," she issues in a tone that, while genuine excitement on her behalf, might have otherwise been translated as something largely more akin to foreboding. "And," she quips, sweeping a hand in an exaggerated arc to indicate his current garb, "given the Calvin Klein pajama model thing you having going on, it looks as though it might have been a while since you've had a proper dose of good, old-fashioned fun." The lithe woman steals the distance that separates one predator from the other, eying her companion darkly before offering a detail that is at once hopelessly vague and also perfectly telling of the evening she intends for the pair.

"So, how'd you like to spend the evening wreaking havoc on unsuspecting assholes and taking shit that doesn't belong to us?"

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