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

you can't raise hell with a saint


Posted on July 19, 2020 by ASKAREE
West

A S K A R E E

BABY, DROP THEM BONES
SELL THAT SOUL



There was definitely a big ass bee in that bonnet... maybe even one of those bloody murder hornets. A-fucking-ffirmative.

"I am so glad that you asked," she coos in a fashion that might have bore the slick, oily varnish of something very nearly giddy had she been prone to such sugary girlish crap as that. The bulb of a black lacquer-tipped thumb skates easily over the glazed screen of the phone craddled within her palm, the device held up moments later so that her would-be companion might gaze upon this evening's prize: the sleek black chassis of a 1967 Shelby GT500 Supersnake. An opulent gem that had captured the attention of the Egyptian woman some weeks ago whilst out upon one of her many 'errands'; a chance encounter that, given her obsessively self-serving demeanor, was to prove prolifically problematic to the vehicle's owner by the close of the evening. A feat that would be achieved with a much greater degree of efficiency if the Master of Melancholy would get his mopey ass up and out.

But she would have what she desired- if not one way, then another.

"She's beautiful, yes? Belongs to some Italian blow-hard on the far northside." What Askaree fails to disclose, whether by design or unfortunate byproduct of a slippery mind (ha ha, as if), is that this particular "Italian blow-hard" just happened to be the proverbial head upon the tightly coiled viper that was the local sector of Italy's mafia. A relatively insignificant detail, truly; after all, he was merely a man that just happened to have a rather magnificent toy. A toy that the ophidian Egyptian finds herself wont to obtain.

"So," she offers, sliding the phone back into the snug pocket of her pants. "Shall we? I'm assuming that your boundless generosity might coax you to let me borrow a pony from your stable?"

Replies