Originally Posted by
Earl of Purple
Blood Moon
Weird William's, Eastside
The city's main lycanthrope bar is a shabby place. There's no sign proclaiming the name of the establishment- or even that it's open. The windows are boarded up, and the benches sitting outside the front door are old, rotten and neglected, with missing slats and protruding nails. Within, it is poorly lit, filled with broken and mismatched furniture, with a long bar along one wall. Nature documentaries play on an old, boxy television set, the sound coming out too loud and distorted. The entire bar smells of wet dog, urine and stale beer, though the patrons are used it. Sat on a hefty chair in the corner is the bar's splatter, a hill giant in a dirty and ill-fitting suit, and the barman is an effeminate-looking half-elf in a dirty t-shirt and ripped jeans.
When the Blood Moon rises, they know something is going on, something unusual and potential dangerous. They start to shift, and their instincts kick into overdrive. Most flee the building, exiting through the door or squeezing out of the gaps between the boards over the windows, a mix of raccoons, rats, foxes and feral cats fleeing the larger predators before they start to prowl. The tide stops briefly, as the door is hurled off its hinges, a semi-humanoid shark bursting through and running towards the river. The monster is at least seven feet long, and wears the tattered remains of a suit. It isn't the last to leave the bar; that is a large black-coated jaguar, which goes bounding onto a dumpster, then a shop's awning, and from there onto the rooftops.
The werefoxes, of whom there aren't many, prowl the alleyways and back streets, and head mostly into the well-off areas of Northside, where there's large gardens and ample locations for real foxes to dig earths and dens. They'll dart out at any humanoids they see, aiming to bite their ankles and Achilles tendons. The jaguar prowls the roofs of Eastside, gazing into alleyways and windows, hunting- primarily- dogs. Feral dogs aren't common in Eastside, as this particular jaguar enjoys the irony of hunting them. The wererats head into the sewers, aiming to avoid all the larger werecreatures prowling this city. The wereraccoons, the largest population of lycans, aim to cross the river and enter Westside, where they shall hunt in the never-ending darkness, avoiding the light of the artificial sun. The feral werecats gather into packs and stalk, quite openly, various areas in Southside. The wereshark, meanwhile, stays in the river, a large male bullshark swimming up and down and looking for prey.