THIS PLACE IS STRAIGHT-UP WRETCHED. It has been forty years since the cataclysmic clash between the lycans and vampires began, and the violence between the races is slowing as they realize the destruction they've backhanded their city with.
Now Venom's Gate, the once prosperous port city, lies as a ruin regulated by no law but the violent kingpins and gangs of both species. While urban power-mongers shoulder for more territory in the queasy cityscape and miniature militias root out the surviving humans, what the hell is going to happen to the city?
Introducing Venom's Gate, a vampire and lycan rpg starring the reconstruction of a blighted civilization and struggles in the wake of war.
S T O R M Y the foul weather that the horizon has been tempting the city with has finally arrived. the thunder and lightning bring chilling cold and whipping winds-- this one's got its teeth in.
OLD PIER AND ST. CAPRICORN jutting feebly off the strong arm of the boardwalk is an isolated pier that's seen many better days. . . many better years ago. unless you're prepared to meet the ocean, don't tread too far on this musty, corroding wood as it rots sugar-soak-sweet on the water. once-sturdy handrails have bent to time and sea-spray and boards warped by water reach up to snag an unsuspecting foot as the whole construction rocks gently, like a cradle on the waves. step lively. close to the end of the pier, a hulking shape is moored. barely visible on the side of the ship is its name, a crackled St. Capricorn, the white paint with which it was branded static and faded. the ship tends to groan in the wind, not to mention it constantly leans to the side, giving it a very... unsafe air. inside the belly of the ship, the air is stale and sour. stripped down to vulgar skeletons, stepping on the old pier or its St. Capricorn is merely a headline waiting to happen.
LIGHTHOUSE candy cane, spiraling stripes have long since faded away on the tower. the discoloration that now sports its way up the length is akin to an inflammation caused by illness. inflamed pink now sits where a bold, daring red used to be, and even then the strength of the remaining coloration is long gone around the utmost portion of the lighthouse. the black-capped glassed-in housing that composed the lantern room is a breeding ground for cobwebs and sea birds’ nests. the lenses themselves are intact and unharmed. beneath in the service rooms even the gears, a bit rigid as of late, have no huge issues. despite being ancient and abandoned, the lighthouse can still be put to use if needed.
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