South of the River
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The Long Drop (Bar)
While there may be quieter establishments where Opium and the like can be found, where women can service gentlemen in clubs that are looked the other way from by the populace, here no such guise or illusion is maintained. It’s the heart of the dark world and hedonistic mess that is human need... at least surface-side. There's no scotch, but you can settle for a gin and fizzless tonic - or be bold and go for one of the unnamed drinks. The humans here have been coined "The Surprise Buffet" of the south by Kindred daring (or uncaring) enough to sample them. With drugs and drink running high in the blood, it's a bit of a gamble for what you'll get, but given this is the heart of Nosferatu territory, those hunting don't typically care. All tastes are accounted for, if you don't order none of that posh wine or gentlemen's crap, that is. Not for the faint of heart, The Long Drop brings southern Bathonians together in a heaving, belching, sweating mess of criminal trade and varied excitement. Closed during the day, it's no wonder the Kindred like it. - 3 Topics
- 57 Posts
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Last post by Andross Blint
Thu Jun 20, 2019 11:59 pm
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The Long Drop (Bar)
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The Gentleman's Respite (Bar)
With it's half-broken and rickety sign that barely displays the bar's name, The Gentlemen's Respite noses its heaps of sin like a ropy mongrel among the bins, partly embarrassed, partly excited, partly disgusted, partly sad... It's owned by a bookie named Richie who welcomes anyone into his grimy pocket of the south. He has to: unlike The Long Drop, with its dangerously unique alcoholic concoctions and wide variety of underworld trade, Richie has relatively little to offer in the way of drinks. The mugs in The Respite are cobwebbed and cracked, the prices absurd. Richie has given up trying to sell anything. His prices are too high compared to The Long Drop's competitive variety. This bar has instead become a hub for whores to brandish their wares and loud tavern wenches to entertain passersby. It's always packed - a warm glow amid the rain and gloom - inside and out, with men drunk from the Long Drop having stumbled downwind to the catcalls of ladies. What The Respite has that the Long Drop doesn't is food, in good measure, and a selection of independent southern wenches who appreciate Richie's hands-off patronage. One (known as 'Anostaisier') is legendary; Richie even allows her to use his backroom for her work so it needn't be done in the darkened streets. He obviously gains a cut from all this. - 7 Topics
- 180 Posts
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Last post by Andross Blint
Tue Apr 21, 2020 5:12 pm
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The Gentleman's Respite (Bar)
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Alleyways and Backstreets
Wriggling their way throughout the south side of Bath, the alleyways and backstreets form natural bazaars; meeting places for the residents, boardrooms for the criminally minded, brothels for the inexperienced, hunting grounds for the predators. Allowing members of the lower classes to flit from area to area without crossing a main street, these hidden passages are often roofed with clotheslines and barricaded with wagons and carts. Some of the braver or more intimidating traders store their goods, others use their access as trash disposal. Urchins pick their way through the grime, looking for shiny pennies and rags for the wickmen who produce the cheap tallows for the stuttering gaslights of the slums. - 2 Topics
- 3 Posts
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Last post by Storyteller
Thu May 26, 2016 4:00 pm
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Alleyways and Backstreets
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The Tight Screw (Brothel)
With a picture of an actual screw and bolt as the sign, this Brothel makes no apologies. Run by a man simply named The Bartender (or handsome Jack for the scarring on his face) since he is known in shady circles, The Tight Screw welcomes anyone willing to part with their coin. The ladies are rough and ready, their gowns half open, hair scandalously loose. There's not much variety but they all know their job like the back of their hands. There's a small waiting reception where one of the girls might entertain seated menfolk with a dance - taking more coin - before leading them off into one of the rooms beyond. - 0 Topics
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The Tight Screw (Brothel)
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East Twerton
Situated immediately below the old Brujah Lands, much of East Twerton was saved from the fires which spread north-east on that fateful night. An urban jungle of darkened alleys and overfilled waste deposits, this is one of the residential areas of the south. Close to the river it has quite the smell; periodic flooding shortens the life of many buildings. It is currently unclaimed territory and therefore feeding across all clans is permitted - though whether any would want to feed here is questionable. It is the depressed and silent smear of the south, where parents can mourn their children in the cemetery and men out of work can fall slowly to disease. - 0 Topics
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East Twerton
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Twerton Cemetery
In the still, science-fictionish light of the gas lamps, the cemetery could have been on another planet. Alone in the inaptly named small hours, when so many big things happen in the heart, Twerton Cemetery can be visited. Unlike the grandeur and lavish power of those graveyards in the North, here there are no beautific stone statues or looming iron gates, no turrets no alcoves no benches no flowers to adorn the graves. It is simple. It is sad. It is where the past comes to rest, where life reaches its last hurrah and closes its eyes. Chapters fold in the place, books concede to the reality of time and all pieces go back into the same box. If you're buried here, you are forgotten. Only the earth remembers these names, for many of the tombstones are unmarked. - 1 Topics
- 57 Posts
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Last post by Yorick Von Watenberg
Sat Dec 28, 2019 11:51 am
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Twerton Cemetery
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Moorfield House Mental Asylum
Moorfield House depresses God. The phrenological diagrams; the cadaverous patients with their deep-sea eyeballs and their miles of unfulfilled dreams; the phrenological diagrams; the puking newbies and passed-out oldies; the death's door patients with their raw ankles and soiled pants; the phrenological diagrams; the coppery apparatus with its threadbare ties - but chiefly there is the surrender to despair or vacancy that the rattling windows demand, the tendency of a patient to collapse into a seat or hang from a bed rail in a state of bitter capitulation to the sadness and boredom and loneliness and excruciating glamourlessness of their lives. In optimistic irony lies a picket sign at the end of the magnificent drive: Welcome to Moorfield House. - 0 Topics
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Moorfield House Mental Asylum
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Deep Urban South
If a city could speak, Bath would be an opera - the highest of sopranos to the North, the deepest bass to the South. But underneath that deep, treacle bass lies something else: the scream in the night, the knife in the hand, the noose from the rafters. The darkest side of the Opera, the part that is hidden beneath caked lead facepaint and straining corsets. The Deep Urban South, known by those who frequent the area as "The Gloom" - a part of the city which few see and even fewer speak of. Painted brothels and opium dens are out of place here - this is the world of the degraded soul. The humanity which strives here barely deserves the term. Human trafficking, corpse disposal, torture, sadism, acts of unspeakable cruelty and sickness within moss covered walls litter the streets. The deep south of both Malkavian and Nosferatu Territory, only those with the most dire of business come here. - 1 Topics
- 2 Posts
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Last post by Storyteller
Thu May 26, 2016 3:44 pm
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Deep Urban South
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Opium Dens/Brothels
The key to evil? Freedom. The key to freedom? Money. For those in the Opium Dens, the freedom to do what they like becomes the discovery of how unlikable as people they really are. Not that that stops them doing what they like. The addict is their own worst enemy; in a place designed to elicit hypersensitivity and gaucheness, the gradual congregation of spiritual atoms, the adherence of each to a released ecstasy brings forth a throbbing and protracted orgasm that leaves no wonder as to why so many Brothels also sell Opium. There's the lawless horde of smells: soap, chalk, rotting wood, limescale, sweat, semen, vaginal juice, stale tea, vomit, rust - a stampede of whiffs, a roistering cavalcade of reeks, stinks and perfumes. Opium Dens fairly gang-bang the virgin nostrils. The place always attends to you with a sort of Lawrentian intensity. Pornography, is what it is, a wild pornography of colour and form, the shameless posturing, the brazen succulence and flaunted curves. Truly, they lie as a welcome to the South. - 0 Topics
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Opium Dens/Brothels
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Rifle Volunteer Drill Ground
The open space of the training ground is in stark contrast with the bustling humanity surrounding it. With few options for cover and a rough, dirt surface unforgiving to bare feet, the plot is mostly abandoned. Occasional stray dogs hunt there, chasing the city rats which are in abundance in quiet areas. Worth nothing but space, still the city fathers resist all attempts to build on it, claiming the need for military training grounds within the city. - 0 Topics
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Rifle Volunteer Drill Ground
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Ash & Haroldston Printing
Once run by Geoffrey Ash & Reginald Haroldston (now deceased) this printing company stands as a ruin in the Burned Quarter. Destroyed during The Night of Fire, it lies among a puzzling mess of pieces. Nothing is left whole and untouched, everything looks destryed. The building litters the charred city like a carcass, stripped of its skin. The old printing company shines sickly in the grey half-light, the gaslamps few and far-between. Ash still lies on the ground, kicked up by a stray breeze only to settle against the corners of the building like snowdrifts. - 0 Topics
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Ash & Haroldston Printing
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God's Providence (Resturaunt)
One of the few reputable businesses in the south, God's Providence struggles to maintain positive income. With its rough local wine and peppered fish, the food here isn't half bad, the good merchant family who set up shop clearly hoping to make use of the niche (or rather the void) of clean establishments in the south. They even have a doormat, which is regularity urinated upon. Closer to the river than most, this restaurant lies above Malkavian Territory in the unclaimed land. It is therefore suitable for all manner of Kindred Clans to feed. Not that you'd see some of them here... It's not uncommon for the restaurant to stay open late, partly to deter hoodlums from breaking their windows each week while they sleep and partly in tired recognition of the fact that the rest of the south never sleeps. - 0 Topics
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God's Providence (Resturaunt)
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Other
For those Southern Haunts that either remain unspecified or too specific to fit into any other category. For example, if you wish to post a one-shot on your character's activities in their Haven but don't wish to advertise the fact of it's existence in a specific district. There are abandoned warehouses, looming ruins, closed shops and empty, filthy gardens... - 11 Topics
- 493 Posts
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Last post by Yorick Von Watenberg
Sat Feb 01, 2020 1:20 pm
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