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
I drank liquor and ate a lighter, and woke up breathing fire
Posted on October 29, 2014 by Emerence Hux
"I have the strength to do a lot of things," I emerge from my sheltered shell, aggravated by the she-wolf momentarily, "I don't want to do those things."
I dismiss her instantly after I speak, because I did not come to shed blood. I didn't come to spike feelings, and I certainly didn't come to point fingers at who exactly was the better species. Humans are monsters, I know this. I have watched my two skillful parents teach the art of combat, coach how to kill everything non-human. I was forced to participate in these lessons and master every skill. And to my parents disappointment, I never put my skill to work. We are monsters, we all are. Surely this woman hasn't been an angel. She looks as though she would kill for something that means something to her. Well, life means something to me. And if it is threatened, I will kill.
If this makes me a monster, then I don't know who isn't.
I had never witnessed anyone be killed, but I have lived near-death experiences vividly. My mother was killed by a rogue Vampire. My father committed suicide by walking to were-wolf territory and being shredded. I had been held at gun point by witches, been chased from were-creatures, and been hunted by vampires, vengeful. Hunters are awful, but we were created for a reason. To protect people. People who have nothing more than fingernails and voices. They are useless. And my parents fought to the death protecting the breed, I would too.
"Well, 'perhaps', one can consider being a hunter is no walk in the park either," I simply wave my hand in dismissal, the conversation now over with anyways. There was no need to linger on the irritation of this subject. We would never come to an agreement, or an understanding. It was one of the beautiful things of being different.
Racism never dies.
"My favorite way to.. Kill?" I knew they expected me to have experience.. To have perfected a certain way to end a life. I wasn't good at it. I cried. I have hardly had the opportunity to take lives, and if I do, I cry.. And I leave. I sulk for days and then I return to the scene of the crime where whatever was wounded had gained enough strength to run, and then I would feel better. I knew I had to put up a front, to show I was something for my parents. To show these creatures I wasn't one to be tempered with.
"Quick. I like them to die quickly... Painlessly. I am a silent hunter. They don't see what is coming," because this is how I envision my murders to eventually be. Easy. An assassin.
And what a fool I am, wanting a sword.
The man is next to speak, to which I watch carefully. He finds his way on opposite sides of the counter, revealing his voice, and I just carefully follow his eyes. He mentions the lack of threat, but it didn't take Einstein to find the hesitation and suspicion in the were-wolf's tongue. Threat or not, it would amount to be. And had she been the stone-cold blood killer her mother was, things would have happened differently.
"You think I am the threatening one?" I sort of scoff at his judgment. Since I had arrived things had become quite clear, crystal even, that you had to know someone. Everywhere I went, it seemed beneficial to have in an. Though, regardless, I wasn't the one to have tossed any threats. Though stealing a weapon and running seemed ideal..
"I kill in the dark. I kill quietly. And I kill quickly. Does this give you an idea?"
I dismiss her instantly after I speak, because I did not come to shed blood. I didn't come to spike feelings, and I certainly didn't come to point fingers at who exactly was the better species. Humans are monsters, I know this. I have watched my two skillful parents teach the art of combat, coach how to kill everything non-human. I was forced to participate in these lessons and master every skill. And to my parents disappointment, I never put my skill to work. We are monsters, we all are. Surely this woman hasn't been an angel. She looks as though she would kill for something that means something to her. Well, life means something to me. And if it is threatened, I will kill.
If this makes me a monster, then I don't know who isn't.
I had never witnessed anyone be killed, but I have lived near-death experiences vividly. My mother was killed by a rogue Vampire. My father committed suicide by walking to were-wolf territory and being shredded. I had been held at gun point by witches, been chased from were-creatures, and been hunted by vampires, vengeful. Hunters are awful, but we were created for a reason. To protect people. People who have nothing more than fingernails and voices. They are useless. And my parents fought to the death protecting the breed, I would too.
"Well, 'perhaps', one can consider being a hunter is no walk in the park either," I simply wave my hand in dismissal, the conversation now over with anyways. There was no need to linger on the irritation of this subject. We would never come to an agreement, or an understanding. It was one of the beautiful things of being different.
Racism never dies.
"My favorite way to.. Kill?" I knew they expected me to have experience.. To have perfected a certain way to end a life. I wasn't good at it. I cried. I have hardly had the opportunity to take lives, and if I do, I cry.. And I leave. I sulk for days and then I return to the scene of the crime where whatever was wounded had gained enough strength to run, and then I would feel better. I knew I had to put up a front, to show I was something for my parents. To show these creatures I wasn't one to be tempered with.
"Quick. I like them to die quickly... Painlessly. I am a silent hunter. They don't see what is coming," because this is how I envision my murders to eventually be. Easy. An assassin.
And what a fool I am, wanting a sword.
The man is next to speak, to which I watch carefully. He finds his way on opposite sides of the counter, revealing his voice, and I just carefully follow his eyes. He mentions the lack of threat, but it didn't take Einstein to find the hesitation and suspicion in the were-wolf's tongue. Threat or not, it would amount to be. And had she been the stone-cold blood killer her mother was, things would have happened differently.
"You think I am the threatening one?" I sort of scoff at his judgment. Since I had arrived things had become quite clear, crystal even, that you had to know someone. Everywhere I went, it seemed beneficial to have in an. Though, regardless, I wasn't the one to have tossed any threats. Though stealing a weapon and running seemed ideal..
"I kill in the dark. I kill quietly. And I kill quickly. Does this give you an idea?"
Emerence Hux
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