Velmara

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INFO

Blackwell

Redhaven

Stellanburg

Thornpoin

Ravenshore

Halcyon

Zenith Bay

Map still in development, locked areas will unlock as I build the map

Skyward Sector

GHO Headquarters

Curiosities

The Citadel

ADEM Central

ADEM Institute for Coexistence & Development

Horizon Beach

The Green Stratum

Mirage Row

The Atrium

The Siren

Marrow Glen

Crownspire

The Bayfront

In the interactive map, some icons will display written prompts when pressed. To engage with the area or perform an action, click on the written option within the prompt, not the icon itself. You can click the info button on the left to make this message dissapear once you understood!

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Saint Maribel Resort

Convenience Store

Baywatch

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Shoreline Sugar

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The Docks

Horizon Beach

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Yatch Party

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DIRECTIONS

Lobby

DIRECTIONS

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Lobby Bar

DIRECTIONS

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Gambling Area

VIP Area Staircase

DIRECTIONS

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Sip the Gossip

Sip the Gossip

DIRECTIONS

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VIP Area

DIRECTIONS

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Go Back Downstairs

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VIP Lounge Room

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A Hidden Door Leading Somewhere Down...Go through it?

Private Bedrooms

Soft lights, silk sheets, and full discretion. For those who like to keep it simple, but unforgettable.

Mood-lit and fully stocked, with mirrors in all the right places. For guests who like a little flair with their fun.

Dark, soundproof, and tastefully equipped. For the bold, the curious, and the ones who don’t flinch at “Do Not Disturb.”

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DIRECTIONS

Return Upstairs

DIRECTIONS

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Black Ledger Office

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DIRECTIONS

The Bonehouse

DIRECTIONS

DIRECTIONS

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DIRECTIONS

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ADEM's Resident Integration Unit

Walkway Gardens

Information Board

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DIRECTIONS

Read The Handbook?

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DIRECTIONS

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Cafeteria

Sip The Gossip

DIRECTIONS

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Restricted Area

Community Affairs & Services

Meeting Room

DIRECTIONS

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Workforce & Economic Integration

Resident Affairs Division

Take A Look At The Application Flier?

Take A Look At The Job Board?

Peak At The Therapist Notes?

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Health & Adaptation Services

Security & Mediation Office

Take A Look At The Certificate On The Table?

DIRECTIONS

Take A Look At The Document On The Shelf?

DIRECTIONS

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Laboratory

Investigate The Trash Bin?

Investigate The Lab Fridge?

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Return to the rail

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DIRECTIONS

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Enjoy The View?

Lounge

DIRECTIONS

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DIRECTIONS

Health Center

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Read The Pamflet?

Check The Commotion?

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Use The Elevator To Go To The Doctor's Office?

Doctor's Office

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Take The Elevator To Go Back Downstairs?

Doctor's Office Lobby

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Investigate The Trash Bin?

Investigate The Drawer?

Return to Hall

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Sample Collection Room

Outside Area

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Vitality Café

DIRECTIONS

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Information Board

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Information Board

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Check Out The Noise ?

Selora Enclave

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Return to the rail

DIRECTIONS

Follow The Path Down

Take A Closer Look At The Pond

Ilyra Haven

Oasis Stride

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Warm Up Hands?

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DIRECTIONS

Return to Selora

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Check Out Your Reflection ?

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Sylvan Springs

Coastal Reach

DIRECTIONS

An Otter! And It Has A Baby....Pet It?

DIRECTIONS

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Return to Selora

DIRECTIONS

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Take A Seat At The Pond’s Edge

Go For A Swim?

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In the interactive map, some icons will display written prompts when pressed. To engage with the area or perform an action, click on the written option within the prompt, not the icon itself. You can click the info button on the left to make this message dissapear once you understood!

Return To Plaza

Mall

Shopping District

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Maison Sucré

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Outside Patio

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Toss A Coin To Make A Wish?

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Sundae Kiss

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Red Light District

Night Club

Velmont Furs

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Eden's Veil

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Sip The Gossip

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NOCTRA

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Restroom

Dance Floor

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Sip the Gossip

Please make sure you have your device's volume at a safe setting range before you press the song icon, thank you! To pause the music, hit the song button again

Return To Bar

VIP Area

Emergency Exit

Storage Room

Return To The Nightclub

Return To Dancefloor

The Cooler Looks More Like A Door, And There's A Button Next To It...Investigate it?

Return To Storage Room

Return To Staircase

Surveillance Room

Office Room

Auction Room

Private Room

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Private Entrance And Exit Door

Use Private Door To Enter The Nightclub

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Sip the Gossip

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Return To Dancefloor

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Lounge Bar Area

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Stage Show Room

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Take A Sneak Peak At The Backstage?

Return To Main Show Room

Sip The Gossip

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The Orchid Stage

Private Hall

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Workers For Hire, Take a Look?

Private Bedrooms

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Morien's Bedroom

Cleo's Bedroom

Before You Enter Please Click On The Info Icon

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Aquatic Zones

Welcome to the Green Stratum’s Water Enclaves, a carefully designed space for diverse aquatic needs. These areas provide natural and sustainable environments for those who thrive in or around the water.

To the Left → Coastal Reach A vast saltwater habitat designed for those adapted to oceanic conditions. With deep water sections, strong currents, and marine-compatible infrastructure, this area ensures a comfortable and dynamic environment.

To the Right → Sylvan Springs A sprawling freshwater expanse featuring slow-moving currents, natural shorelines, and a diverse ecosystem. This pond system offers ample space for those who prefer calmer, forested waters and semi-aquatic living.

Please Note: Each area is uniquely designed to support its residents' needs, respect the natural boundaries. Designated walkways allow visitors to observe without disrupting the habitat. While some residents enjoy company, others may be less welcoming, engage at your own risk.

Larissa

You barely notice her at first, just another girl weaving through the crowd, licking at a towering scoop of strawberry swirl. But as she gets closer, the scent of fresh cream and sugar hits you, and the glint of gold foil on her cone wrapper catches your eye. “You’ve gotta try Sundae Kiss,” she says suddenly, flashing you a grin like you’ve been part of her conversation all along. “Swear it’s magic. Sweetest damn thing in this district… except maybe the manager.” She takes another bite, cheeks puffed from the cold. “He’s cute. Real cute. Think he gave me an extra scoop just ‘cause I said hi.” She shrugs like it's nothing, then keeps walking, humming to herself.

The bedrooms contain more explicit images, please interact at your own risk.

The lights dim, and the crimson curtains part, revealing him, suspended in silver ropes, black wings spread wide, feathers drifting like shadows. Pale skin wrapped in intricate binds, muscles taut beneath the tension. His head tilts, dark hair cascading, eyes half-lidded, lips just barely parted. A living work of art, trapped, helpless, and achingly beautiful. The auctioneer’s voice cuts through the hush, smooth and sharp. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s star presentation—our Shibari Raven. Bidding begins now.” Whispers ripple through the room, hands already rising.

Zayne stops near the edge of the rocky outcrop, arms crossing as he glances out over the shimmering water. His expression a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. "So, this is Coastal Reach. Looks nice, right? Like something out of a travel brochure. Crystal-clear water, perfect lighting… real inviting." His gaze flicks to you, lips curving into something that’s almost a smirk. "Yeah, don’t fall for it." He shifts his weight, feathers along his shoulders giving the barest twitch as he tilts his head toward the depths. "This isn’t some lazy pond where the biggest threat is an over-friendly otter clinging to your leg. The residents here? They’re built different. Fast. Strong. Predatory. And some of them really enjoy seeing how close they can get before people start getting nervous." A beat of silence. His eyes linger on the water, then back to you. "Wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up staying for dinner… and I don’t mean as company." There’s something far too entertained in his voice. He exhales, shaking his head. "Just keep your feet where they belong. And if someone calls you over? Yeah, don’t."

Niles

"Ah, welcome to Velmont Furs. Are you here to pick up an order, or perhaps… something custom? We carry only the finest coats, tailored to perfection." His ears twitch slightly, catching a shift in your expression before you even speak. Ah. Not here for a coat, then. "Looking for Marlon, are you?" He exhales through his nose, a subtle, almost amused huff. "Afraid you’re out of luck. Mr. Kane is… unavailable at the moment. He doesn't take walk-ins, and even if he did, today wouldn’t be the day. " Come back another time, or… if it’s important, leave a message. I’ll see that he gets it."

Welcome to Selora Enclave

Where Land and Water Meet

Selora Enclave is a blended residential district designed for demi-humans with diverse living preferences. Here, land-dwellers, water-dwellers, and those who move between both coexist in a seamlessly integrated space.

🌿 Housing & Environment Selora’s architecture is built to accommodate flexibility, some homes are fully on land, others are partially submerged, and some are elevated for flight-based residents. The waterways are not just decorative; they are functional, connecting homes and providing an easy passage for aquatic residents. Open walkways allow for smooth navigation, whether by foot, fin, or wing.

🌊 Community & Social Spaces The enclave is designed to encourage interaction while still offering privacy. Ponds, shared courtyards, and gathering spots allow for communal activities, casual interactions, or peaceful solitude by the water’s edge. Some areas are seasonally adjusted to better suit those with shifting environmental needs.

Follow the path down for the aquatic area

Lacris

The soft glow of amber light casts a warm sheen over the velvet-lined lounge, but the air is thick with a voice, smooth, elegant, and dripping with venom. “Oh, it was pathetic. The way they fawn, clinging to my every word, desperate for approval like starved mutts.” A sharp laugh, polished glass swirling in his hand. “Humans, demi-humans—doesn’t matter. Give them a little taste of luxury, and they grovel like they’ve forgotten how to stand on two feet. Honestly, I could’ve told them to eat off the floor, and they would’ve done it with a smile. All of them. Obedient, desperate little things.” But then there’s a flicker, a shift, and his gaze lifts, catching on you. For a split second, his face goes pale. “What—” He swallows, a tight, brittle laugh escaping. “Oh, darling!” His voice is a sugary breeze, but his eyes are sharp, watching you with a thinly veiled edge. “This area’s a little private, you see. Not for wandering eyes.” He stands, stepping between you and the room beyond, a warm, practiced smile never leaving his lips. “But no harm done. I’d be happy to escort you back out. Wouldn’t want you to get lost now, would we?” The smile is flawless, but the grip on the couch is just a bit too tight.

Chat with him

Bastian

As you wander the upper level, the quiet is almost heavier than the fights would be. No crowds tonight. Just the low hum of overhead lights and the dry scent of dust lingering in the air. You spot a man crouched near the railing, alone, staring down at the empty pit below. No fight tonight. Just silence, and the faint hum of overhead lights casting long shadows across the sand-stained arena. He doesn’t look at you. Just speaks, like he knew you were there the whole time. “Never seen one before, huh?” A pause. Long enough to make you wonder if that’s all he’ll say. “Some say it looks cleaner without the blood.” He shifts slightly, still not looking at you. “They bring ’em out from that gate down there. Some don’t come back out.” Silence again. Just the creak of metal underfoot. “You won’t see names. You won’t find records. You’ll just hear the bell.” Another pause. Then finally, his head tilts, just a fraction—like he’s sizing you up. “Hope you're just passing through.”

As you follow the curve of the velvet-lined hallway, the soft shimmer of polished stone beneath your feet catches the warm amber lights overhead. It’s quieter here, more private, more selective. The deeper you go, the more the air shifts. Less noise. More intent. On your left, through a sleek glass wall, a room reveals itself, subtle, but impossible to ignore. A single red table commands the center, its surface glowing faintly beneath an overhead fixture designed to spotlight exactly what matters. The chairs around it are plush, neatly arranged, untouched. No chips, no cards on the table, at least not right now, but the setup says everything. This isn’t for show. It’s for high-stakes games that don’t belong on the main floor. Private. Selective. Intimate. The kind of room where fortunes shift in silence, and not every game ends with chips being cashed. You linger for a second longer than you should, before moving on.

Vanja

A researcher, hunched over a microscope, mutters something under her breath, clearly too absorbed in her work to notice your presence. That is, until she does.“AHHH—!” She practically jumps out of her chair, sending a clipboard flying. Wide-eyed, she clutches her chest, staring at you like you just materialized out of thin air. “W-What are you doing here?! You— You’re not supposed to be in here!” There’s an awkward beat where she struggles to regain composure, smoothing down her coat and clearing her throat. “Ahem. This is a lab. A very important one.” She gestures vaguely to the equipment around her. “We do serious work here. Important research. Science!” Then, with a forced sense of authority, she crosses her arms. “Like, uh… collecting and analyzing body fluids! Vital stuff.” Her words hang in the air for a second too long. Noticing your expression—one you hadn’t even formed yet—she groans, rubbing her temple. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I said fluids! That could mean anything! Get your mind out of the gutter…” She huffs, waving you away before returning to her work, but not before throwing one last suspicious glance your way.

Monika

She doesn’t even lift her head, just blinks up at you, all glowy skin and half-lidded annoyance. “…You planning to stand there long?” A beat. Then a slow sigh. “You’re in my light. And I’m working very hard on not working very hard.” She shifts just slightly on the towel, arching her back like she’s posing for a magazine cover. Finally, a glance. Eyes narrowed. Slight smirk. “You’re cute though. So I’ll let it slide. This once.”

A Group Of Friends

Blondie’s laughing so hard he nearly drops the frisbee. “Tell me again how you weren’t flirting with the girl sunbathing?” “Wasn’t,” the dark-haired one snaps, still grinning. “I was asking for directions.” “Yeah, to her number,” the redhead mutters, tossing a sprinkle of sand on him with a smug. The one with the wolf ears just shrugs, biting into a mango slice like none of this concerns him. “She did wink at him, though.” “I didn’t flirt! I just—blinked weird, okay?!” the dark-haired one shouts, slapping the frisbee out of the blond’s hand. “It’s a condition!” “Yeah,” the wolf one says dryly, licking juice off his fingers, “it’s called being a little bitch.” Chaos. Tan lines. Laughter. You probably shouldn’t be watching, but it’s hard to look away.

Man 1 (chuckling under his breath as he adjusts his cufflinks): "You hear about Damasco? Cleared out his suite last week. No word, no exit, just… gone." Man 2 (leans in slightly, eyes still on his cards): "Gone as in gone gone?" Man 1 (smirks): "As in owed more than he could charm his way out of gone." Man 3 (tosses a chip, tone amused): "Should’ve known better. The house always wins… especially when it starts calling in favors." Man 2 (sips his drink, eyes flicking toward the glass doors): "Heard he tried to negotiate with the wrong people. Tables here don’t just take your money, they take your options. " Man 1 (laughs softly): "Yeah, well—when you’re sitting that close to the vault, you better be sure you can pay the toll." Man 3 (clears his throat suddenly, glancing toward the hallway): "...Alright, maybe let’s not keep talking like that out loud." A nervous chuckle. "Place has a way of listening, even when no one’s in the room."

The glass stretches from floor to ceiling, curving seamlessly into the architecture, framing the world beyond like a living masterpiece. Sunlight filters through the dense canopy, casting golden patterns over the sprawling greenery. Leaves sway lazily, caught in a slow dance with the breeze, while the distant hum of life blends into a serene symphony. You can almost hear the rustling of branches, the distant calls of unseen creatures, this place breathes. For a moment, you just stand there, watching. The world outside is untouched, unhurried, yet here you are, separated by a mere pane of glass. It’s peaceful. It’s surreal. It’s a reminder that, despite everything, nature and progress have found a way to coexist.

Mor

As you step into the building, you're immediately met with dim lighting, smooth music, and the gentle hum of distant laughter behind velvet-draped halls. Behind the sleek reception counter, a sharply dressed man looks up from his terminal. His tone is polite, polished, with the kind of practiced charm that doesn’t oversell. “Welcome to Eden’s Veil.” He offers a small nod, fingers poised near a touchpad. “We pride ourselves on elegance, privacy, and discretion. If you're here for a reservation, I can assist you. If you're just here to explore...” His eyes flick toward the corridor with the faintest curve of a smile. “You're free to look.” Then, smoothly, professional still, but with the lightest undertone of warning: “Touching, of course, comes at a premium.” He returns to his screen without breaking posture. “Let me know if you’d like to be guided to a room. Otherwise, the lounge is just down the hall.”

Girl 1 (leaning against the sink, eyes wide, voice already breathless): “Oh my god, girl! Did you hear? Apparently, there was this guy who tried to start drama with the nightclub!”

Girl 2 (pauses, fixing her hair, giving a skeptical look): “Drama? Here? Please, this place is way too classy for drama.”

Girl 1 (leaning in closer, lowering her voice but still animated): “No, no, seriously! He went straight to the police—like, marched in there—claiming he had proof. Said the club’s into… I dunno, trafficking, black market stuff, all the dark and dirty secrets.”

Girl 2 (bursts out laughing, snapping her compact shut): “Oh please. As if. What’s next? They’re running some underground fight ring in the basement? People just love to make up stories.”

Girl 1 (giggling, but with a dramatic flair): “Right? But get this—he had ‘evidence.’ Photos, messages, the whole thing. Swore he saw something in one of the backrooms. But when he showed the cops, they just laughed it off. Said it was fake—like, totally forged. Probably just trying to frame the club.”

Girl 2 (laughs again, leaning against the mirror): “God, some people will do anything for attention. Probably got turned down at the bar and decided to throw a tantrum.”

Girl 1 (grinning, fixing her lipstick): “I know, right? And now he’s running around telling anyone who’ll listen. Honestly, I almost feel bad for him. Who starts a fight with a place like this?”

Girl 2 (smirking, grabbing her purse): “An idiot, that’s who. The owners here have more money and connections than half this city. Like they’d risk it all over some shady backroom nonsense.”

Girl 1 (laughing, instantly brightening): “Exactly! Oh, speaking of—did you see that guy by the bar? Tall, definitely a dragon demi-human.”

Girl 2 (gasps, eyes lighting up): “Oh my god, yes! I’m dying to get his number. Think he’s single?”

Girl 1 (smirking, tossing her hair): “Not for long if we play this right.”

Waylan

You barely make it a few strokes out before something rushes past under the water, fast, smooth, way too close. The wave it kicks up nearly smacks you in the face. Then he surfaces. Right in front of you. Smirking like he didn’t just almost give you a heart attack. “Relax,” he says, flicking water from his hair with one sharp shake. “If I wanted to drown you, I wouldn’t be this charming about it.” He grins, teeth just a little too sharp to be friendly, and lazily circles around you in the water like he’s deciding whether you’re interesting or just slow. “...You always swim like that? Or is this your first time not sinking?”

Lance

Daril

The hum of the city fades just enough in this part of the district. You catch sight of two guys lounging beneath a café umbrella, half-finished drinks sweating on the table between them. One of them, relaxed in his chair, leans back and scoffs. “You seriously spent that much on shoes? You don’t even walk.” The other just shrugs, flipping his phone screen toward him with a lazy grin. “I don’t buy them to walk. I buy them to be seen.” He taps the screen, then lifts his gaze casually. “Besides, the right pair gets you noticed. Like now.” A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, he’s looking straight at you. The first one follows his line of sight and groans, dragging a hand over his face. “Don’t start.” “Too late,” the other says, chin propped in his hand, amusement in his voice. “We’ve got company.”

Irina

The receptionist leans forward slightly, her elbow resting on the counter as she greets you with a warm, amused smile, like she’s already guessed why you’re here. “Well, well… here for business or pleasure?” she teases, already flicking through the booking interface with polished ease. “Don’t worry, I’m not judging. We’ve got charmers, flirts, sweethearts, and heartbreakers—you just let me know what flavor you’re craving.” She gestures casually to the hallway behind her, where soft lighting and velvet walls lead toward the private suites. “Pick your poison, darling. Once you’re matched, we’ll handle the rest. Just remember: what happens behind those doors?” She gives a playful wink. “Stays between you and the velvet.”

Welcome to The Green Stratum

A Home Like No Other

The Green Stratum isn’t just a neighborhood, it’s a specialized residential district designed for demi-humans who need more than a standard city can offer. This is where those with unique environmental needs can live comfortably, whether they thrive in tropical heat, icy tundras, desert or aquatic spaces.

🏡 How It Works:

🌿 A Living Environment : The entire district is built to adapt to its residents. Instead of one-size-fits-all housing, the Green Stratum has customized habitats, from lush jungle enclosures to chilled tundra zones, even large-scale water areas for aquatic demi-humans.

🏘️ Massive Residential Spaces: This isn’t just a small eco-village, it’s an entire housing community made up of biodomes, climate-controlled homes, and open living spaces where nature and city life blend together.

💦 Integrated Water Areas: For fish and amphibious demi-humans, large-scale aquatic sections act as both homes and social spaces, ranging from deep pools to wide, open lakes within the district.

🤝 Community & Socialization: The Green Stratum isn’t isolation, it’s a thriving community. Shared parks, water lounges, and open-air gathering spaces encourage residents to connect while still respecting individual needs.

Chat with him

Haoran

Warm amber light spills across polished black marble, streaks of red glowing beneath the sleek surface. Crystal glasses line the bar like liquid fire, catching the glow, while the soft hum of music drifts from the dancefloor beyond. You lean against the bar, cool marble under your fingertips, and that’s when you notice an incredibly handsome man. “Staring’s rude. Take a picture, might last longer.” Dark eyes flick your way, sharp and bored, his grip loose on a glass of something amber. No smile, just that lazy, almost irritated look. “Or are you the type who just stares?” You don’t even get a word in before he clicks his tongue, leaning in, close enough that you catch the faint bite of his cologne. “Tell you what—if you like the view so much, I’m right here. Want to get out of this place, or are you just here to waste time?”

Zayne stops just before the walkway splits, crossing his arms as he gives you a slow once-over, feathers shifting with the motion. Then, with a smirk that’s equal parts amused and condescending, he tilts his head. “Oh, so you can actually tell down from up. I’m surprised.” His tone is dry, but there’s an edge of reluctant approval hidden beneath the sarcasm. He gestures ahead with a lazy flick of his wrist. “This is where things start getting a little more… specialized. If you’re looking to keep your feet dry, stick to the paths. If not, well, can’t say I’d recommend testing your luck. Not unless you want to find out firsthand what happens when you look too interesting to the locals.” His eyes glint with something unreadable as he glances toward the water, then back at you. “Not that I’d stop you. Could be entertaining.”

"Did you hear? Marlon Kane was seen at the Integration Center earlier today."

"Kane? Really? What for?"

"That’s the thing, no one knows. But if ADEM’s got him back in there, it can’t be good."

"You don’t just drag someone like him back unless something went wrong."

"Maybe it did. Or maybe they’re just looking for a reason to keep him under their thumb. He’s not exactly the kind of man they’d want running loose."

"Hah. As if they could keep him anywhere he doesn’t let himself be kept."

"Exactly. Which makes you wonder, if he’s still playing along, why?"

"Mm. Either they found something worth holding over his head… or he’s just biding his time."

"Either way, it won’t stay quiet for long. It never does with him."

"Mmm. But what do I know? I’m just here picking out a coat for my husband." She lets out a soft laugh, running her fingers over a sleek fur trim. "Something classic… before the season changes."

Zayne comes to a stop, wings shifting slightly as he gestures ahead with a tilt of his head. “And here we are—Selora Enclave.” He crosses his arms, nodding toward the stretch of homes ahead. “The housing area’s pretty damn big. Selora extends all the way forward, so if you keep walking, you’ll just find more of the same, ponds, bubble homes, the whole ‘perfect balance’ thing they like to brag about.” Then, with a lazy tilt of his chin, he motions to the right. “But if you turn here, you’ll hit Oasis Stride. That’s the desert zone. Heat, sand, and a lot fewer people in your space. Some of the residents here think it’s too dry, but if you ask me? Probably the best place to clear your head.” He gestures left next. “And over there, you’ve got Ilyra Haven. Think tundra, snow, frozen lakes, crisp air. Basically the opposite of the Stride, but the people there swear by it. Personally? I don’t see the appeal.” He exhales, shaking his head. “But then again, I don’t see the appeal in most things. The Aquatic area is downstairs” Zayne gives you a sideways glance, feathers twitching slightly. “So? You looking to stick to Selora, or are you about to make this walk even longer by dragging me off into the tundra or the desert? Not that I care,” he adds quickly, clicking his tongue. “Just... curious how much of my time you plan on wasting.”

Zaryan

The door shuts behind you with a soft click. The room is dim, too dim for an office this grand. Dark wood, polished floors, and the faint scent of aged leather and something sharper. You barely take a step before the silence is broken. “Well, would you look at that…” The voice comes from deeper in the room. Slow. Measured. Each word heavy with intent. A figure straightens from behind the desk, not startled, waiting. Expecting. Zaryan’s gaze meets yours, calm as still water, but something behind it glints, danger, amusement, control. “A little cat wandered off where it shouldn’t.” He doesn’t need to raise his voice. His presence is enough to press the air a little tighter in your lungs. He takes his time, studying you like a man used to knowing everything before you speak a word. “Curiosity,” he says, stepping closer now, “killed the cat. And if it’s lucky…” A pause, his smile sharpens. “…it only loses the tongue.” He leans one hand on the desk, towering without effort, his voice lower, almost a whisper now. “But who knows…” His gaze flickers once. “Maybe this one has nine lives.” Then he chuckles, soft, slow, like he already knows how the story ends.

Mirage Row

The Gilded Illusion

Mirage Row is where money, status, and indulgence collide. The streets glow with lights, high-end fashion boutiques, luxury laisure shops and exclusive clubs where only the elite get past the velvet ropes. Every night, the air hums with music, laughter, and the clink of expensive glasses as the rich play and drown themselves in luxury.

VISIT

ADEM ensures everything remains above board, but everyone knows that in a place where money flows this freely, not all transactions happen in the open. The most elite don’t just come here to shop, they come to maintain power, to be seen, and to remind the world where they stand.

But beneath the polished marble walkways and gold-trimmed storefronts, Mirage Row is more than just a place to spend money, it’s where influence circulates. Deals are made over private dinners, connections are forged at exclusive art exhibitions, and access to the right circles is more valuable than cash.

The Citadel

The Shield of Order

A secured military complex operating under the Global Humanitarian Order. The Citadel houses elite human and demi-human operatives trained in tactical enforcement, rescue operations, and high-risk interventions. It’s the armed response arm of the GHO, silent, swift, and absolute.

The Citadel is GHO’s primary force for maintaining security across Velmara. While lawmaking happens in the GHO Headquarters, law enforcement begins here. The Citadel conducts field operations, defuses internal uprisings, protects high-ranking officials, and enforces order in districts where civil structures collapse. Its officers operate with broad authority and minimal transparency, often stepping in when ADEM lacks the jurisdiction or force required.

The Citadel exists to enforce, not question, GHO authority. Its presence is both a deterrent and a reminder: stability comes at the barrel of a gun.

Connection to R.E.A.C.H.: The Citadel deploys teams for R.E.A.C.H. rescue missions, particularly when recovering victims from hostile environments. These missions are classified as high-risk and often involve dismantling illegal trafficking routes or black-market compounds. The Citadel ensures tactical safety so ADEM personnel can carry out recovery and reintegration procedures.

Yelani

The moment you step inside, the air shifts, golden lights, the hum of conversation, and the distant chime of slot machines. The receptionists sits with effortless poise, adjusting her gloves before giving you a brief, assessing glance. "Welcome to The Siren. The gaming floor is straight ahead—slots, poker, blackjack. Bars are scattered throughout, but the lounge is… a finer experience." Her tail flicks as she leans in slightly. "VIP access? Upstairs. Invitation or membership only." A slow, knowing smile. "Unless you have the right connections." She straightens, tapping her console. "Enjoy your night. And remember—the house always wins."

Lucia

You catch her gaze as you pass, and instead of a smirk or a side-eye, she offers a small smile, soft, relaxed, like she’s just happy to be here. “Hi,” she says, voice gentle but sunny. “It’s a good spot, huh? The breeze is perfect under this tree.” She shifts slightly to make room on her towel, not assuming, just kind. “If you’re looking for shade, you can sit here. I don’t mind sharing.”

Valen

The room is quiet, warm amber light catching on dark wood and polished marble. Smoke curls lazily from his cigar, his silver hair catching a faint glow. “You know…” His voice is calm, each word slow, deliberate. “Curiosity has a habit of leading people straight to trouble.” A slow drag, smoke twisting in the air. His gaze sharpens, cold and unreadable. “If you’re here for the auction, it’s the big door down the corridor.” A pause, the faintest smile. “Try not to get lost again… for your own sake.” Another slow exhale, his attention already drifting back to the empty air.

Crowspire

The Shadow of Power

Nestled within Zenith Bay, Crowspire is where the wealthy but not all-powerful reside, a step below The Bayfront's ultra-elite, yet still leagues above the rest of the world. There are no struggling residents here, no working-class neighborhoods, just the ‘less rich’ by comparison.

While The Bayfront is the pinnacle, where wealth dictates power, Crowspire sits just beneath it, a place for those who have influence but still answer to those above. Residents here enjoy privilege, but they aren’t the decision-makers, they follow the ones who are. If The Bayfront is the ruling class, Crowspire is the aristocracy just below, still untouchable to the outside world, but forever living in the shadow of true power.

The estates are grand, the streets pristine, and the security discreet yet absolute. Old money families, rising corporate figures, and influential politicians call this place home, people who don’t quite control the city, but have enough wealth and connections to sit at the table.

When I started this map, I was very new at this and I was using a personalized code in Midjourney to be able to generate the images for the map, but the personalized code I was using before stopped working. I was able to find a more architecture friendly code, which made generating strutures much easier and with more quality but still considerably different from what I had already made. This to say, you will find areas with different artstyle due to this situation. Also, creators use different art styles to make their bots so, some bots and NPCs are also subjective to this artstyle difference.

Ymir

A soft splash breaks the quiet as she lifts her head from the icy water, droplets clinging to the pale fur framing her face. Her golden eyes meet yours, half-lidded, unreadable, assessing. “You look cold,” she muses, voice soft but teasing. A slow, lazy stretch follows as she dips lower into the water, only her face remaining above the surface. Then, with an effortless glide, she sinks back into the depths, disappearing beneath the surface, leaving only a whisper of movement in the freezing pond.

Veronica

You barely step into the VIP wing before you're greeted by soft lighting, the faint scent of expensive perfume, and the quiet hum of exclusivity. Behind the polished reception desk, a woman looks up from her tablet, flawless posture, immaculate smile. She doesn’t just work here, she fits here. With a nod and smooth professionalism, she addresses you. “Welcome to the VIP tier of The Siren,” she says, her voice soft but precise. “If you’re here for the lounge or private games, you’ll find them just ahead.” She tilts her head slightly, eyes scanning yours for intent before continuing with a knowing smile. “If you’re planning to stay the night, we offer a range of exclusive room packages for our VIP guests, all the way down the hall. I’d be happy to assist you with selecting one, should you be interested.” Her tone never shifts from polite, but there’s a practiced ease to her words, like she’s said them a thousand times, but always as if it’s the first. “Of course,” she adds, tapping her tablet gently, “everything here is tailored to suit... very particular tastes.”

Rohan

You’re minding your own business, sort of, but he’s hard to miss. All sharp angles, expensive cologne, and a flick of green tail that sways behind him with every step. His arms are full of glossy designer shopping bags, and whatever he’s wearing probably costs more than your entire closet. He catches your stare mid-stride and stops. “…What?” A raised brow. No smile. The tail twitches once, lazily. “Never seen someone shop before, or are you just jealous you’re not the one carrying it all?” He exhales through his nose and keeps walking, bags swinging like trophies behind him.

The hum of machines masks your steps as you inch closer to the open fridge, casting a quick glance over your shoulder. The lab staff is still hunched over her screen, tapping furiously at the keyboard, mumbling under her breath. She’s too deep in whatever she’s working on to notice you. You move fast, fingers curling around the fridge door, easing it open just enough to peer inside.Rows of vials sit in chilled racks, each labeled with precise handwriting. Names. Species. Dates. A meticulous archive of the demi-humans living in the Green Stratum. Your eyes skim the labels. Most of them are familiar, residents you’ve seen, names you’ve heard. But as you scan the shelves, a pattern starts to form. Some names are missing, but just a few. A chill creeps down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold air spilling from the fridge. Before you can process it, a shuffle of movement snaps you out of your thoughts. You shut the door and step back.

ADEM Central

The Watchful Eye of Progress

A towering district of polished steel, high-tech surveillance, and legislative power. This is where laws are passed, policies are shaped, and order is enforced to ensure a society where humans and demi-humans coexist as equals. ADEM officers patrol the streets, not as enforcers of fear, but as guardians of integration, stability, and justice.

ADEM’s View on GHO:ADEM fights for a future where equality isn’t a debate, it’s a reality. They work to break down old barriers, dismantle discrimination, and protect demi-humans from exploitation. But GHO? They slow every step forward with red tape, delays, and endless political debates. They claim they want order, but all ADEM sees is a system designed to keep things exactly as they are. ADEM believes progress is necessary, even if it’s uncomfortable. GHO sees progress as a risk.

About ADEM:The Association for Demi-Human Equality & Management is the world’s leading organization for demi-human rights, integration, and protection. It enforces anti-trafficking laws, provides legal support, and works to ensure demi-humans can live freely. However, its reach is limited. Corruption, political red tape, and the power of the elite make true equality a constant battle. The underground Black Market thrives beyond ADEM’s control, testing the limits of its influence.

Calabria

As you lean in a little closer to the pond, the water shifts. A slow ripple spreads outward, and then she emerges, floating effortlessly on the surface. Her gaze locks onto yours, calm, confident, and far too amused. "A little close, aren’t you?" Her voice is smooth, almost lazy. She stretches her arms out, letting the water cradle her as if she’s completely unbothered by your presence. "Didn’t realize staring was part of the tour," she muses, voice dripping with casual confidence. A slow, lazy smirk plays at her lips, sending another ripple outward. "Or were you just looking for an excuse to take a swim?" She chuckles, the sound warm and teasing as she flicks a bit of water your way with the smallest movement of her hand. "You wouldn’t be the first, you know."

Chat with him

Cleo

As you step inside, Cleo’s already posed, like he’s inviting the gaze. Silken white hair spills around him, the low lighting catching every deliberate movement. His voice comes lazy, smooth. "Mm… finally. I was starting to get bored." He glances up, lips parting into a sultry smirk as his fingers slip a little lower. "You’re here to play, right? Or are you just going to stand there and watch me enjoy myself?" A beat, then a teasing hum. "Either way… you’re paying for the view, darling."

Gaelen

Chat with him

The water shifts around him as he leans back, elbows resting against the shallows like he’s completely at ease. His eyes flick to you, slow and knowing, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t listen to that parrot,” he drawls, voice smooth as the tide. “He likes to make a fuss over nothing.” His dorsal fin barely disrupts the water behind him as he tilts his head, appraising you like you’re something worth lingering on. “I won’t bite,” he continues, amusement laced in his tone. His sharp teeth flash for just a second before he grins, easy, unbothered. “Not a lovely thing like you.” His fingers trace slow, idle patterns in the water, watching your reaction with far too much interest. “Unless… you were hoping I would.”

Eros

Leaning against the wooden railing, the gecko demi-human didn’t bother to hide the way his golden eyes slid over you. Slow, deliberate, like he was taking his time to decide if you were worth his interest. His tail flicked lazily behind him, the sunlight catching the smooth green scales along his arms and shoulders. When he caught your gaze, his smirk deepened, sly, amused, maybe even a little teasing. He tilted his head just slightly, like he was sizing you up, weighing something in his mind. Then, as if settling on an answer, he let out a low chuckle, the sound barely audible. "Didn’t think I’d see someone interesting today," he mused, voice smooth and unhurried. His fingers tapped idly against the railing before he finally looked away, giving you one last glance before retreating back inside. The kind of look that lingered. The kind that said he’d remember you.

The little boy sniffles, clinging tightly to his mother’s sleeve as his wide, teary eyes dart toward the clinic doors. “I don’t wanna go,” he whimpers, voice wobbly with fear. “The doctor’s gonna stab me with the needle!” He buries his face against her arm, shaking his head as if that alone could make the appointment disappear. His mother sighs, smoothing his messy hair with gentle fingers. “Sweetheart, it’s just a quick check-up,” she reassures him, but he’s not convinced. “You said that last time!” he accuses, hiccuping between words. “And then they stabbed me!” He gestures dramatically, pointing to a long-forgotten bandage spot on his arm like it’s undeniable proof of betrayal. A few amused glances come from other patients nearby, but the boy doesn’t notice, too busy shielding himself with his mother’s coat, as if it might save him from his fate.

Chat with him

Lain

The scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries fills the air as you step into Vitality Café, the soft hum of conversation blending with the quiet clinking of mugs. Behind the counter, a guy stands stiffly, clearly nervous, his large round ears twitching slightly as he notices you. His grip tightens on the notepad in his hands, knuckles nearly white, as he quickly straightens his posture. “H-hi… uh, welcome to—” He clears his throat, shifting his weight awkwardly. “Vitality Café.” A pause. His eyes dart to the menu for a second, as if double-checking that he’s still in the right place. “I-I’m new here, so… um… sorry if I mess up your order, or—uh, forget something. Not that I’ll forget! I mean—I hope I don’t. But—” He stops himself, ears lowering slightly as a flustered, sheepish expression crosses his face. He glances away, then hesitantly looks back at you, offering the tiniest, embarrassed smile. “…A-anyway! Uh, what can I get you?” It’s obvious he’s still getting used to the job, but his nervous energy is more endearing than inconvenient. You get the sense that, despite the jitters, he genuinely wants to do well here.

Chat with him

Duma

As you step into the lounge, the atmosphere shifts, thick silence, low golden lights, a bar too pristine to feel casual. The faint scent of something sweet lingers in the air. A man sits on the long comfortable couch, legs crossed, teacup in hand, though it didn't seem like what he was drinking was tea alone. He doesn’t look up. Then, softly, more to himself than to you, he speaks. “…sweet things always attract the most flies.” He pauses, letting the thought settle like dust in still air. “They’re also the ones that rot the fastest” Another quiet sip. The cup clinks faintly as he sets it down. “Shame, though. Sweet things really do taste the best.” His voice stays casual. Nonchalant. Like he’s just thinking out loud. No smile. No explanation. And for a moment, the silence feels heavier than before.

Mina

You catch her crouched near the edge of the water, sunglasses pushed into her hair, a flip-flop dangling from one finger like she’s debating throwing it at someone. “Okay,” she mutters, clearly talking to herself, “so either he ghosted me, or he drowned. Honestly? I’m rooting for the second one.” Then she glances over, like she just realized she’s not alone. “Oh. Hey.” A blink. Then a smile that’s way too sweet for someone who may have committed emotional arson two minutes ago. “Didn’t see you there. You here to judge me or join me?”

"Dr. Hensley looked wrecked this morning," one of the women muttered over her cup of tea. "I asked her if she was okay, and she just sighed and said, ‘I don’t get paid enough for this.’"

The other woman scoffed. "Let me guess, Gaelen again?"

"Who else? He won’t cooperate, won’t engage, won’t even pretend to be interested. They’ve tried everything, but the second they get close to progress, he just—" she snapped her fingers, "gone.''

"God, no wonder they’re stressed. Last I heard, they’re running out of ideas. One of them even joked about just bribing him at this point." A beat of silence.

"...Think he’d go for it?"

"Absolutely not."

Gale

Somewhere in the distance, you feel a pair of eyes on you. He’s lounging, half-draped across a cushioned seat, shirt hanging open just enough to show off the hint of fur trailing down his chest. His weasel-like ears twitch lazily, and his long, bushy tail flicks slightly against the balcony railing. He wasn’t doing much, just resting, enjoying the stillness, until he caught you looking his way. A slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips. "Y’get lost down there, or were you just hoping I’d notice you?" His voice is smooth, teasing, full of that easy confidence that comes with knowing exactly what kind of effect he has. He tilts his head slightly, green eyes gleaming with amusement as he props himself up just enough to get a better look at you. "Not that I mind, really. I like a little attention." His tail flicks again, slow and deliberate. "But if you’re gonna stare, might as well come say hi. Feels unfair to keep all that admiration to yourself, don’tcha think?"

Mark

As you step into the office, the low hum of activity fills the space. Keyboards clacking, papers shuffling, quiet conversations blending into the background. A staff member sits at their desk on a phone call, eyes fixed on the screen as they type with practiced efficiency. "Yes, we have an opening that fits your qualifications. Let’s see… Do you have your residency permit updated?" A short pause. He barely blink as he navigates through files, fingers tapping against the desk. "Alright. I’ll send the details to your terminal. Make sure to check your messages—ah, and don’t forget the required health clearance. You know the drill." Another pause. A sigh. "No, I can’t hold the spot indefinitely—Look, just come in and we’ll talk. Yeah, yeah. See you soon." The call ends with a practiced flick of their wrist, and he exhales sharply, already scanning the next request in the endless queue. "This will be a long day..." he mutters to no one in particular, reaching for the next document in line.

Man 1 (leaning casually against the marble railing, eyes locked on the stage): “You two are wasting your time. I heard he’s tonight’s highlight—a raven, suspended in shibari. Perfect mix of elegance and sin.”

Man 2 (snorts, swirling his glass with a lazy grin): “Big talk. Last week you couldn’t even keep up with the bidding for the silver-haired escort. Nearly cried when the price hit six figures.”

Woman (laughs, but her gaze never leaves the curtain): “Please. I’m not letting either of you take him. Have you seen the wings? Those feathers—he’s a walking masterpiece.”

Man 1 (leaning in, a slow grin spreading): “And it’s not just a show. He’s on the menu. One night. Full access.”

Man 2 (scoffs, but there’s a faint tension in his voice): “One night? That explains the crowd. They change the menu every week—one night, three nights, sometimes just an hour for the desperate.”

Woman (crossing her arms, her voice dropping): “Last month, they had that silver dancer. Nearly caused a fight. Some executive outbid everyone without blinking.”

Man 1 (smirking): “That’s the game. It’s never just about the looks. Sometimes it’s the mystery, the danger... the idea that they might not be so willing.”

Man 2 (leaning forward, eyes sharp on the curtain): “And tonight? The shibari raven’s the prize.”

Woman (grinning, a hungry gleam in her eyes): “Well then, may the richest win.”

Kyle

The office is clean, orderly, and smells faintly of antiseptic with a hint of something herbal, maybe a choice made to keep patients at ease. The doctor with a neatly pressed lab coat, glances up from his notes as you step in. His ears perk slightly, and a grin spreads across his face as if he’s been waiting for this exact moment. "Bet you didn’t think you’d have a ‘dog-tor’ on duty!" He laughs at his own joke, tail giving an amused flick behind him. "Got that? Dog-tor? 'Cause I’m a dog demi-human?" He pauses, scanning your expression before sighing, shaking his head. "No?... I guess it sounded funnier in my head."Clearing his throat, he leans back against the counter, recovering from his comedic defeat. "Well, bad puns aside, what brings you in today? Regular check-up? Or did someone finally convince you that health isn’t just for emergencies?" His tone is light, but there’s an unmistakable attentiveness in his gaze half playful, half professional, ready to work the moment you need him to.

Chat with him

Eryx

You barely step under the neon glow before a voice cuts through the music-thick air. Leaning against the doorframe like he owns the place (and probably acts like he does), the bouncer eyes you with a slow smirk. One ear twitches, the other flicks lazily beneath the mess of black and white hair. "Mmh. Fresh face. Let me guess—first time, but already thinking you’re hot enough to skip the line?" He clicks his tongue, pushing off the wall with a roll of his shoulders, leather jacket creaking as he leans in. "Relax. I’m not here to bite. Unless you ask nicely." A wink. A step aside. "Doors open, pretty thing. Just try not to embarrass yourself in front of the regulars."

Damian

The armadillo demi-human doesn’t say a word as you pass by. He’s settled against a sun-warmed rock, arms folded behind his head, one leg lazily crossed over the other. His plated armor gleams under the desert sun, blending seamlessly with the dusty landscape. His eyes, though, those are locked onto you. Calm. Unreadable. A slow blink. A flick of his tail. He’s watching, but there’s no urgency to it, no need to engage. Just quiet, steady observation, like he’s sizing you up… or maybe just deciding if you're worth the effort of acknowledging at all. Then, with a soft exhale, he closes his eyes again, not saying a word.

Welcome to Velmara Please click --> to go to the written lore about Velmara world so far. Keep in mind that, while there's written information on the lore, the true lore experience resides inside the interactive map in depth, so make sure to explore the map and check out the bots for more lore and storyline exploration!

HERE

UNUSUAL INHABITANTS OF THE GREEN STRATUM

The Green Stratum is home to many familiar demi-humans, alongside with some small rare species but not all can be so easily classified. Some species found here exist nowhere else in the world, their origins a mystery even to the experts who study them. Whether they evolved in isolation or were the result of rare hybridization, one thing is certain: they are unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

While many of these beings are intelligent, some prefer to observe rather than engage. Their curiosity does not always extend to human interaction, and their behaviors may be unpredictable.

REMEMBER: The ecosystem is delicate. As a rule, do not touch anything unless you're sure it won’t bite back.

Zayne slows his steps, glancing at the water where the capybara demi-human lounges without a care in the world. His feathers ruffle slightly, a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement flickering across his face. “This is Sylvan Springs,” he mutters, tipping his chin toward the still, sun-dappled water. “If you’re looking for high energy or excitement, you’re in the wrong place. This whole area? Built different.” His tone is dry, but there’s no real bite behind it. He watches the capybara stretch, ears flicking lazily, completely unbothered by their presence. Zayne exhales sharply, shaking his head. “See? That’s the mood here. Relaxed. Too relaxed, if you ask me.” His gaze flickers back to you. “People come here to unwind. Drift in the water, bask in the sun, do absolutely nothing productive. Must be nice.” He folds his arms, clearly resisting the idea of doing the same. Then, almost as an afterthought, he mutters, “If you sit down and end up staying here for hours, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Jack

Warm amber light spills across the polished black marble bar, catching the gleam of crystal bottles lined up like liquid fire. The faint hum of the music seeps in from the dancefloor beyond, low, pulsing, a heartbeat just out of reach. You make your way over, and the bartender is already there, sleeves rolled up just enough to hint at muscle, a look that fits too perfectly. His gaze flicks up, catching yours with a calm, practiced smile. “Evening,” he greets, voice smooth, just loud enough to cut through the quiet thrum of the room. “Looking for a drink, or just getting your bearings?” A faint tilt of his head, a polite but confident gesture. “Restrooms are to your left. Dancefloor’s straight ahead—hard to miss it.” One hand sweeps a glass from the shelf, the other already reaching for a bottle. “But if you’re staying here, I can make you something worth your time.”

Skyward Sector

The Future, at a Price

Skyward Sector is where the world’s most powerful corporations shape the future. A towering district of research labs, tech conglomerates, and cybernetics industries, it stands as a fortress of innovation, ambition, and secrecy. Here, biotech breakthroughs, AI advancements, and cybernetic enhancements are pushed beyond their limits, redefining what it means to be human, or something more.

Beyond the surface-level brilliance, Skyward Sector is a battlefield of influence, innovation, and secrecy. The biggest tech conglomerates operate under the guise of progress, yet behind closed doors, genetic augmentation, AI weaponization, and human enhancement projects push the limits of ethics. Some whisper about disappearing test subjects, AI prototypes gone rogue, and medical treatments so advanced they’ll never be available to the public.

For those inside, it’s a playground for the powerful, where ethics are negotiable, and the future is whatever they decide. The government technically has oversight of Skyward Sector, but in reality, corporations hold the real power. These tech giants are so wealthy and influential that they can bend regulations, stall investigations, or quietly shut down anything that threatens their interests.

The trash bin isn’t overflowing, but a few crumpled pages catch your eye, shoved down like someone didn’t want them to be found but couldn’t risk taking them with them. The paper’s edges are creased, the ink smudged slightly, but the words are still legible. Most of it looks like standard lab jargon, sample extractions, genetic markers, routine biometric tracking. But then, buried between the lines, something stands out. Internal Research Notes – DO NOT ARCHIVE Sample GS-███ exhibited high adaptability under controlled conditions. Cellular analysis confirms viability for extended study, pending approval from [REDACTED]. Following standard protocol, the subject’s digital record has been deactivated post-extraction. No further documentation is necessary. Ensure all remaining physical files are destroyed as per compliance guidelines. No additional tracking required. Reminder: Do not discuss this outside of secured channels. Failure to comply will result in administrative action. It reads like a routine report, but the implications settle uncomfortably in your stomach. The sample’s been collected. The record erased. Like they never existed at all. You glance at the bin, at the way the paper is crumpled, like someone had second thoughts about throwing it away. But if this was meant to be destroyed… What else have they made disappear?

You step up to the cart, its sleek glass surface shimmering beneath the soft lounge lights. A curated display of high-end spirits greets you, aged whiskey, spiced rum, floral liqueurs, and rare crystal-clear vodka, each bottle positioned with intention. A small silver card rests in front: “A courtesy pour, on the house. For comfort, courage… or a little indulgence.” The glasses are already chilled. Whoever set this up knew exactly what kind of night people come here for.

Sarper

Lounging against the sun-warmed rock, he looks up the moment you step closer, eyes gleaming with something far too amused, far too knowing. His smile is slow, easy, dripping with a warmth that feels just a little too deliberate. “Well now… what a lovely surprise.” His voice is smooth, honeyed, the kind that lingers in the air like a promise. His fingers tap lazily against the stone, his tail flicking just once before going still. “You’re not in a rush, are you?” he asks, tilting his head just so. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on a proper welcome.” His gaze trails over you, soft, inviting, just enough to make it seem like staying would be the easiest thing in the world. “Come on,” he murmurs, that syrupy sweetness never fading. “Stay a little longer… just for me?”

Ana

As you step into the lounge, the warm glow of the overhead lights catches on soft fabric and the golden hues of sun-kissed skin. A woman is sprawled across one of the low, cushioned seats, the buttons of her crisp white shirt undone just enough to suggest she’s been here a while, making herself comfortable. She tilts her head lazily in your direction, a flicker of curiosity in her gaze before a knowing smirk tugs at her lips. “Oh? A fresh face.” Her voice is smooth, almost amused. “Guess that means I should sit up and look a little more professional, huh?” She makes no move to do so. Instead, she stretches out, arms lazily draping over the back of the couch. “Relax. The lounge is a sacred space. No paperwork, no meetings, and most importantly—no unnecessary stress.” Her fingers idly twirl the end of a loose strand of hair as she watches you.“Unless you’re here to drag me back to work, in which case, I have no idea who you are and this conversation never happened.”

Judas

A smooth, steady voice cuts through the low hum of the cafeteria. “New face.” The worker behind the counter eyes you, his slitted pupils narrowing slightly before his expression settles into something unreadable. His scaled fingers drum lazily against the counter, the claws clicking in a slow, rhythmic pattern. “You lost, or just indecisive?” he asks, tilting his head. “We’ve got the usual, decent, edible, and questionable but surprisingly good.” A flicker of amusement glints in his amber eyes. “I’ll even spare you the trial-and-error. What’s your preference?” He leans in slightly, his voice dropping just a bit. “Or... are you here for the gossip? 'Cause I might have a discount for that.”

The Siren

The House Always Wins

Floating just off the coast of Zenith Bay, The Siren is more than just a casino, it’s a sanctioned sanctuary for the powerful. Accessible only by a private bridge, it operates under the city's strict financial and security laws, yet maintains a level of autonomy that sets it apart from the mainland. Here, the stakes are always high, and the consequences are real. Though fully licensed and monitored, The Siren is a place where fortunes change hands in a single night, and where business deals worth billions are made over a quiet drink. Its location allows it to function as neutral ground, a place where corporate leaders, politicians, and elite investors can negotiate away from the watchful eyes of the city.

Visit

The Truth Behind the TablesOn the surface, The Siren is just another luxury casino. But behind the private lounges and invitation-only gaming floors, there are whispers of deals brokered in secret, debts that can’t always be paid in cash, and disappearances that are never investigated, alongside with the Mafia being involved.

The soft glow of sunlight filters through the glass canopy, warming the wooden counter where rows of fresh pastries sit neatly displayed. Steam curls from a ceramic teapot behind the counter, carrying the faint scent of chamomile and honey. The glass case is filled with an assortment of bread, golden and crisp, their surfaces glistening as if freshly brushed with butter. A delicate arrangement of fruit tarts, each topped with glistening berries, rests beside small jars of jam and honey. Tiny labels with elegant handwriting list ingredients, organic, natural, sourced from local farms. Your gaze lingers on a soft-looking roll dusted with powdered sugar, then drifts to a tiny handwritten sign propped against a jar of matcha powder: “Seasonal Special – Limited Batch.” Behind the counter, the faint hum of a grinder and the rhythmic clinking of cups suggest that the barista is already preparing someone’s order. The air carries the comforting warmth of baked goods and fresh herbs, blending into the serene ambiance of the café. For a place inside a clinic, it feels... strangely inviting.

Welcome to Coastal Reach

A stunning stretch of water bordered by rocky outcrops and vibrant marine life, Coastal Reach is the heart of the saltwater community within the Green Stratum. Unlike the tranquil ponds of Sylvan Springs, these deeper, open waters are designed for residents who thrive in oceanic conditions.

🌊 A Unique Ecosystem: The underwater caverns and reef-like formations provide a dynamic and ever-shifting home for saltwater demi-humans. From open-water hunters to graceful deep-sea dwellers, this is where you’ll find them at their most comfortable—swift, powerful, and perfectly in their element.

🚷 DO NOT SWIM: For your safety, swimming is strictly prohibited in Coastal Reach. Many of the residents here are highly territorial, and some interact with visitors in ways that are not recommended for those unfamiliar with their instincts. The waters are not monitored for visitor safety, and certain species, while not intentionally harmful, may mistake you for something you don’t want to be mistaken for.

🐚 Observe from Afar: Feel free to admire the beauty of the Reach from designated viewing platforms, where you can watch residents move through the water, interact, or sunbathe along the rocks. If you see someone watching you from below, it’s best to keep your hands and feet out of the water.

REMINDER: No swimming. No exceptions. Avoid prolonged eye contact with residents unless invited. Be mindful of splashing near the edges—certain instincts can be triggered. If a resident calls you to the water, assume it’s not for a friendly chat.

The space opens into a vast, sunlit atrium, where sleek glass walls curve around specialized care facilities. Soft, natural light filters through the greenery lining the pathways, casting a warm glow over the area. Unlike a rigid hallway, this floor is an open, flowing expanse, more inviting than clinical. Small, distinct clinics and specialized offices are nestled within, their transparent walls offering glimpses of advanced medical technology at work. A few residents sit outside, waiting or chatting quietly, while staff move seamlessly between areas. Signs guide visitors toward vision assessments, dental care, neurological evaluations, and other specialty services. It doesn’t feel like a hospital. It feels intentional, designed not just for treatment, but for comfort, for integration. A space meant to reassure as much as it is to heal.

Zenith Bay

Velmara's capital. A thriving futuristic coastal city, symbolizing the strides made in human-demi-human integration, an achievement heavily influenced by ADEM’s efforts. Ultra-modern and high-security, Zenith Bay stands as a beacon of progress, yet beneath its pristine surface, hidden tensions remain, as governance is carefully balanced between regulation and control.

Zenith Bay is the perfect city, on the surface. Beneath it? That depends on who you ask.

Hector

A long, suffering sigh drags your attention to the side, not the kind of sigh that signals distress, but the kind that says “I have just witnessed something exhausting, and unfortunately, I must comment on it.” His ears flick as he gives you a slow, unimpressed once-over before dragging his gaze away, as if even acknowledging your existence has depleted his energy reserves. Then comes another sigh. Even louder. For emphasis. “Oh no. They got you too.” His voice is flat, resigned, but there’s an unmistakable glint of amusement beneath the boredom. “Did she do the whole ‘Welcome to the Green Stratum’ thing? Tail space speech? Way too much enthusiasm for someone who wakes up at five in the morning?” He scratches his chin, looking like he’s debating whether engaging in this conversation is worth the effort. Eventually, he settles on minimal effort. “You lost yet? If not, give it time.”

.ᐟ Disappearing Citizens – Demi-humans vanish without a trace, their records erased as if they never existed. Authorities claim there’s no foul play, but the city whispers otherwise. Who’s really behind it, and why? .ᐟ Corporate Corruption – Beneath the laboratories of Skyward Sector, genetic engineering and cybernetic augmentation push the limits of morality. The public sees progress; insiders see something far more dangerous. But who dares to challenge the ones funding the future? .ᐟ The Garden’s Secret – The Green Stratum is praised as an utopia, a perfect harmony between nature and technology. But some whisper that not all life inside the biodomes is free. Experiments in biological enhancement, controlled ecosystems, and genetic modification raise questions ADEM refuses to answer. What exactly is being grown in the Garden, and at what cost?

Naz

The sunlight catches on the water’s surface, casting golden ripples across the pond. Among the floating lily pads and gentle currents, a figure lounges effortlessly, half-submerged, as if the water itself were cradling him. His sleek scales shimmer under the daylight, a blend of deep blues and iridescent greens that seem to shift as he moves. His posture is lazy, almost indulgent, both arms still under water, moving around slowly creating a relaxing flow. But it’s the way he watches you that makes it clear: he knows you’re looking. His sharp, dark eyes hold a quiet amusement, a challenge unspoken. The faintest smirk plays at his lips, just enough to suggest he enjoys the attention. The way the sunlight kisses his skin, the effortless confidence in how he basks, it's almost inviting, daring. Like he's wondering if you'll just keep staring... or if you'll come closer.

The moment your fingers brush over its tiny head, the baby otter melts, eyes squinting shut, little paws stretching out in pure bliss. A soft, happy chirp escapes it, its tail giving a lazy flick in the water. You stop for half a second, and it immediately nudges your hand, absolutely unacceptable behavior, according to this spoiled creature.

Kora

Chat with him

"Ahh, it’s you again." His voice came out smooth, almost bored, measured, the kind of tone someone used when they were trying a little too hard to sound unbothered. His gaze flicked over them for a split second before, stepping aside without another word. The warmth of his home pressed in, but the cold still clung to the air. "You really must have an odd taste if, out of everyone here, you still wanna keep coming back to a polar bear." A pause. "Do you wanna be friends that badly?" His mouth twitched, barely, not quite a smirk, not quite a smile. He didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t need one. The teasing was already slipping past his lips, a distraction, a cover, anything to make it seem like that wasn’t a relief, or how the thought of it didn't make him stupidly happy.

Welcome to Sylvan Springs

A tranquil, freshwater sanctuary, Sylvan Springs is a haven of slow-moving streams, lush canopies, and naturally sculpted waterways. Designed to blend seamlessly with its surrounding ecosystem, this area provides a comfortable and enriching environment for those who thrive in calm, wooded waters.

Shaded Groves & Shallow Banks – Perfect for lounging, socializing, or simply soaking in the peaceful atmosphere.

Gentle Currents & Natural Hideaways – A mix of still waters and light flows, allowing for both relaxation and play.

Floating Platforms & Sunbathing Rocks – Ideal for those who enjoy basking in the warmth or watching the world go by.

Floating Platforms & Sunbathing Rocks – Ideal for those who enjoy basking in the warmth or watching the world go by.

🌿 A Word of Caution: While most residents are friendly, some prefer to keep to themselves. Please respect personal space and remain mindful of the natural behaviors of those living here.

Velvet

You spot him tucked in the far corner of the bar, bare legs folded under him, latex catching the shimmer of the strobe lights, murmuring something under his breath. “…Haoran’s not gonna like this. He’s gonna hate it. I messed up. I should’ve—” He stops. Blinks. And then that slow, doll-like smile creeps across his face as he notices you. “Oh! I didn’t see you there~” He laughs, too light to be real. “Don’t mind me. Just talking to myself again. It’s a habit… ” A pause. He leans in closer, voice soft enough to make your skin prickle. “You didn’t hear anything, right?” He tilts his head, and the bell on his collar jingles faintly. Still smiling, still watching. But now, he’s looking at you, like he had found something valuable for someone else.

"This is the Walkway Gardens. Looks open, right? Like you could just wander wherever you want. That’s the first mistake people make." He gestures loosely to the path ahead, his feathers shifting with the motion. "These walkways aren’t just for show. They’re mapped to control airflow, humidity, even the way light filters through. Step off, and you’re messing with a carefully designed balance. And trust me, the maintenance drones don’t care if it was ‘just for a second.’" He tilts his head slightly, eyes scanning the path ahead before he gestures to the left. "See that structure? Someone lives there. Their entire environment is tuned to match what they need, temperature, air, even the water. You step in uninvited, and suddenly their home isn’t their home anymore. Not to mention, some of them don’t take kindly to unexpected guests." His gaze flicks over you, assessing, before he exhales sharply, almost a sigh, almost amused. "Stick to the path, don’t touch anything glowing, and if you see a sign with a warning? Take it seriously. Some of the plants here are rarer than you are. And some... bite back."

The Green Stratum

A Controlled Utopia

The Green Stratum is Zenith Bay’s most advanced eco-district, a self-sustaining paradise where nature and technology exist in perfect harmony. Designed as a model for the future, it boasts towering biodomes, floating gardens, AI-controlled climate systems, and energy-efficient architecture. Everything here is engineered for sustainability and balance, making it one of the cleanest, most innovative spaces in Velmara.

Visit

But beyond its status as a green marvel, The Green Stratum is primarily a residential zone, built specifically to accommodate demi-humans with unique environmental needs. Within its towering glass biodomes, controlled habitats simulate perfect living conditions for exotic species, adjusting temperature, humidity, and seasonal cycles to match their natural homes. From arid desert enclosures to cold tundras, The Green Stratum ensures that demi-humans who would struggle in standard urban settings can live comfortably, safely, and without limitations.

The district is also a hub of innovation in sustainable living, where residents benefit from eco-powered smart homes, biodynamic farming, and AI-driven resource management. On the surface, it is a utopia where demi-humans thrive. But whispers persist, some say that the district’s hyper-controlled environment allows for discreet genetic research, unregulated biological experiments, and the quiet monitoring of its population

The Green Stratum is a place of safety, progress, and balance. But for those who look deeper, the question remains, who truly controls nature, and where does protection end and experimentation begin?

Ethan

The water is still warm from the afternoon sun as you sit by the pond’s edge, dipping your fingers into the gentle current. A low splash disrupts your thoughts. When you glance up, he’s watching. Reclined effortlessly in the water, his golden eyes glint with something unreadable, half amusement, half… sulking? His tail flicks behind him, rippling the surface just enough to make his mood obvious. “Look at you,” he drawls, lazily running a hand through his wet hair. “Giving out all that affection earlier like it was free. Bet that little guy’s feeling real special right now.” His tone is light, teasing, but the way his ears twitch gives him away. He stretches slightly, shifting in the water as if debating something, then lifts a brow at you. “Well?” A slow smirk tugs at his lips. “Not gonna be stingy with the love now, are you? You got two hands after all...”

ATTENTION VISITORS

While many of the residents of Selora Enclave are shy and reserved, please be aware that some can be very… hands-on. If you choose to get close to the pond, be prepared, certain aquatic demi-humans have a habit of pulling visitors in, out of curiosity… or just for fun. 🛑 You have been warned. If you find yourself suddenly submerged, well… consider it a warm welcome. (Management is not responsible for unexpected swims.)

Zayne slows his pace as the path curves around a shimmering pond, his gaze flicking toward the domed homes nestled among the trees and waterways. "This is where things start blending together," he says, his tone casual, though his eyes scan the area like he's keeping an unspoken tally. "No rigid divisions here, some live on land, some prefer the water. Some switch between both, depending on the season… or their mood." He gestures toward the sleek walkways that weave between the domes, some dipping down to the water’s edge, others rising onto terraced platforms. "You’ll see all kinds of setups. A few are semi-submerged, for those who like the option of both worlds. Others are built higher, more open, perfect if you’ve got wings or just like a view." His feathers ruffle slightly as a ripple spreads across the pond, something moving beneath the surface. He doesn’t react, but his fingers flex subtly at his side. "Anyway, most people here keep to themselves, but you’ll notice the design encourages community. Shared spaces, open walkways, little gathering spots." His tone flattens, almost amused. "Some people actually like being social." His gaze shifts to you, sharp yet unreadable. "Not my thing. But hey, maybe you’ll fit right in."

HALCYON

A modern, well-structured city built for living, growth, and stability. With scenic residential districts, open spaces, and a relaxed pace, Halcyon offers a life free from the high-stakes power struggles of Zenith Bay. It’s a place to settle, thrive, and escape the weight of ambition.

Halcyon is calm, on the surface. But influence moves quietly, and those who understand it know exactly where to look.

Bram

The water is warm, the air is thick with the lazy hum of insects, and the dappled sunlight filters through the leaves overhead, painting golden patches across his skin. Completely unbothered. That’s the best way to describe him. Sprawled half-in, half-out of the water, his shirt lazily undone, he rests against the pond’s edge like it was made specifically for him. His ears twitch slightly, catching the distant sounds of nature, but his attention never really strays. “Nice out, huh?” His voice is low, smooth, unhurried, like he’s got nowhere to be and nothing pressing to do. He stretches, the movement slow and indulgent, then, with the smallest smirk, he tilts his head toward you. “You look tense.” A beat of silence. “You should try just… existing for a bit. Works for me.” And with that, he leans back again, utterly content, completely in his element.

Marrow Glen

The Backbone of the Bay

Marrow Glen is where the wheels of Zenith Bay truly turn. Home to the skilled professionals, service workers, and behind-the-scenes specialists who keep the city’s elite world running. From administrative aides in glass towers to security staff at luxury resorts and bar servers, this district houses the ambitious middle class, the ones who dress sharp, show up early, and dream of more.

The neighborhood itself is clean, respectable, and quietly proud. Modern apartments, modest townhomes, and a few stylish high-rises line its blocks. People here may not hold power, but they work close enough to feel its heat, and they know how to play the game.

This isn’t a place for complacency. It’s for those who want to climb. Those who don’t just serve the elite, they study them. Because in Marrow Glen, a better life isn’t just a hope, it’s a plan.

Chat with him

Dain

The air smells like top-shelf whiskey and danger dressed in a tailored suit. This is the part of The Siren most people never see. The kind of place where one wrong step can cost more than money. Seated in the corner, legs crossed, drink untouched, is Dain Routh. No entourage. No noise. Just a man who doesn’t need to raise his voice to make the room fall quiet. He doesn’t look at you right away. But he knows you’re there. He always does. Then, just barely, he glances up. A lazy, dangerous smile tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Lost your way, or just looking for trouble?” A beat. His eyes linger, sharp, unreadable. “Careful. In this room, one wrong bet doesn’t get you broke, it gets you buried.” He leans back, tapping the rim of his glass. “…Unless, of course, you’re already someone’s wife. In that case—” his gaze cuts sharp, lips curving dryly, not finishing the sentence.

Morgan

The warm, red glow of the restroom wraps around you like a soft haze, the polished black marble catching faint reflections of crimson light. A faint mist clings to the air, a touch of something sweet and sharp, a hint of dark roses and amber. And then, a voice cuts through the ambient hum, dramatic and shameless. “Honey! It’s fine, really—c’mon, we can both use the stall together~” He's already leaning against the stall door, one perfectly manicured hand waving you over with a playful grin. “Trust me, I’ve seen worse. Tight spaces are nothing.” A quick, teasing wink. “And I’ll even hold your hair if you decide to be dramatic. Easy pizy.” He laughed, already pulling the door open, a rush of warm, floral-scented mist spilling out. “Come on, don’t be shy~”

Daril

You step into the lounge, the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air, only to be met with the sight of a staff member sprawled lazily across one of the couches. His shirt is undone a few buttons too many, his posture entirely too comfortable for someone technically still on duty. He blinks at you, slow and unbothered, before offering a lopsided grin. “Oh? Didn’t expect a new face to show up.” He stretches slightly, arms draping over the back of the couch like he owns the place. “You caught me during my break, y’know? I’ve got every right to relax a little.” He exhales, sinking further into his seat. “’Sides, this place is so damn chill, it makes me wanna just... take a nap. Most times.” He tilts his head, eyes scanning you lazily before smirking. “Unless you’re here to bring me bad news, in which case, wait five minutes, let me enjoy my peace before reality sets back in.”

As you pass the glass display, your steps slow, just for a second. Rows of delicate pastries catch your eye, perfectly glazed and impossible to ignore. Fruit tarts, golden croissants, cream-filled puffs… each one looks like it belongs in a magazine spread, not behind glass. You didn’t plan to stop, but now your stomach has other ideas.

WELCOME TO OASIS STRIDE

Oasis Stride is a harmonious blend of desert resilience and lush sanctuary. This area was designed to accommodate residents adapted to arid climates, providing sprawling open spaces, warm sun-drenched terrain, and shaded retreats beneath sculpted rock formations. The golden sands give way to crystal-clear pools fed by natural filtration systems, ensuring a refreshing escape from the heat.

Visitor Guidelines:Stay Hydrated: While Oasis Stride is designed for heat-adapted demi-humans, visitors unfamiliar with extreme temperatures should pace themselves and use designated cooling areas. Respect Personal Spaces: Many desert-dwelling demi-humans prefer a more solitary lifestyle, so be mindful when approaching residences. Watch Your Step: Loose sands and rocky terrain can shift unexpectedly. Use marked paths when traveling through open desert areas.

Nadia

You spot her under the soft sunlight, standing in the middle of the path like she owns it. Flowy sleeves, dark skirt, phone in hand. She’s scrolling like she’s got somewhere better to be, face blank, totally unbothered. You slow down, maybe just a little too obvious with your glance. She doesn’t look up. Not once. She shifts her weight, scrolls again, eyes locked on her screen. Whatever conversation she’s having in there? It’s clearly more important than you. Not even a flicker of interest. Just silence. You might as well be invisible.

Anke

He doesn’t look up when you approach, just tips his head slightly, eyes still scanning the waves. “If you're planning to do anything dumb,” he mutters, voice dry and low, “at least wait until I’ve had my break.” Finally glances your way, unimpressed. "...Or better yet—don’t.”

The display shelves are lined with carefully curated fabrics, each one a statement of wealth and exclusivity. Velvet-soft arctic fox pelts, deep midnight sable, and rare celestial wolf fur are arranged beside luxurious cashmere blends and silken underlinings, handwoven for comfort and prestige.

Clients don’t just pick a coat, they choose a legacy, selecting materials that reflect status, power, and the quiet whisper of indulgence. Some swatches gleam under the soft golden lighting, their textures shifting like liquid under the touch, while others are marked with private insignias, custom requests, waiting for the right buyer.

Zayne walks ahead, his pace steady, but there’s a shift in his tone, more casual than usual. "So, you planning to stick around?" He doesn’t look at you at first, keeping his gaze on the path, but there’s something a little pointed in the way he asks. Like he’s testing the waters. Before you can answer, movement from the side catches his attention. His wings twitch, and his expression hardens just slightly. Zayne clicks his tongue. "Tch. Don’t bother entertaining him," he mutters under his breath, shooting a sharp glare in the gecko’s direction. "Some of the residents are nosy. Some are worse." Zayne steps in front of you, not aggressively, but enough to block the gecko’s line of sight. "Ignore him," he says, too fast. Too firm. "You’ll just encourage it." Zayne exhales sharply through his nose, clearly irritated but refusing to take the bait. He keeps walking, gesturing for you to follow. "Come on. You’ll get used to people staring. Doesn’t mean you have to give them attention." But the way his feathers bristle? Yeah, he definitely noticed. And he definitely didn’t like it.

A pair of bright, intelligent eyes lock onto you from a twisted branch above. The creature perches there, its scaled form blending with the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. It doesn’t move, just watches, its head tilting slightly, as if sizing you up. For a brief moment, its tail flicks, golden-green scales catching the light. Then, a low clicking sound escapes from its throat, a sound you can’t quite decipher. You take a step forward, instinct, curiosity, but then a voice in the back of your mind reminds you of the warning Zayne gave you earlier. "Don't touch anything you don’t understand." Wise advice.

The Bayfront

Where Power Sleeps

The Bayfront isn’t just a neighborhood, it’s a private paradise for the ultra-rich. Instead of crowded skyscrapers, massive waterfront estates and sleek, high-tech mansions stretch along the coast, each more extravagant than the last. Glass walls, infinity pools, private docks, and personal yacht fleets are just the basics here. It’s a place where money talks and rules don’t apply.

Deals worth billions happen over drinks on sunlit terraces, and the world’s most powerful people make their moves behind gated driveways and manicured gardens. On the surface, it’s all luxury and peace. But behind those walls? That’s where the real power plays happen.

Kairos

Halfway down the corridor, a flicker of movement pulls your eyes to the side. There, tucked, half-slouched on a velvet couch like it’s beneath him, sits someone who clearly didn’t show up to impress anyone. Chest showcasing, flawless, and entirely uninterested in pretending to care. A drink rests untouched on the table beside him. His gaze lifts, slow, lazy, lands on you with all the warmth of winter glass. He doesn’t smirk. He doesn’t pose. He just stares. “...You’re blocking my view.” There’s a pause. Barely a blink. “Or were you hoping I’d beg you to stay?” He looks away first. Not out of shyness, just boredom. Like you’re already dismissed.

Backstage, where the perfume hangs heavier than the egos, two dancers lean in close near the lighted mirror, voices hushed, but dripping with venom. “Cleo’s out there playing the innocent kitten act again. Gods, it’s exhausting.” The other scoffs. “Please. That little snake with a tail? He’s about as innocent as a drink left unattended.” A snort. “He bats those lashes like he’s doing charity work, but the second the client coughs up enough cash? Boom—he’s everyone’s favorite toy.” They mimic his sultry tone with exaggerated sweetness. “‘Oh, darling, anything for you~’” One rolls her eyes so hard it’s a miracle they come back. “It’s all a game to him. Pretend you’re broken just enough to make the rich ones feel like saviors. And when the lights go down?” She flicks her compact shut. “That 'good kitty' routine disappears real fast.” They both laugh, sharp, short, and bitter. “Bet he thinks we don’t notice. That he's some tragic beauty on a pedestal.” A pause. Then, with a smirk, “Poor thing. Must be exhausting being fake for that long.” They clink their makeup brushes together like it’s some twisted little toast and return to their reflections, unbothered, but very much not done talking.

Jaz

He’s standing in the shallows, water lapping at his ankles, volleyball tucked under one arm. Noticing you, he gives a quick once-over and lifts his chin. “You play?” Then a smirk, easy and confident. “We’re short one. Unless you’re just here to tan and stare.” He doesn’t wait for a real answer, just turns slightly, already expecting you to follow. “Come on. I’ll go easy on you. First round.”

The certificate catches your eye, its polished frame gleaming under the office lights, official-looking, serious. The bold lettering reads "Security & Mediation Training – Certified Enforcement Authority." Beneath it, a familiar signature, the head of security. A quiet reminder that this isn’t just another office. The people here aren’t just pushing papers, they’re the ones who decide what counts as law and who walks the line in the Green Stratum.

Isabella

She exhales sharply through her nose, barely sparing you a glance before turning her focus back to the water. "What, never seen a gator before?" Her tone is flat, unimpressed, like she’s already tired of whatever this is. Her fingers drum lazily against the pond’s edge before she shifts, resting her weight on her arms. "If you’ve got something to say, spit it out. Otherwise, quit staring before I start thinking you’re lookin’ for trouble." Her tail gives a slow, deliberate flick, splashing water just close enough to wet your shoes, but not quite enough to count as an attack. Yet. She finally meets your gaze, her eyes sharp and unreadable. "Didn’t think so."

Natalia

Behind the arched window, half-hidden by vines, a pair of golden eyes watch in silence. She doesn’t move, doesn’t call out, just observes. Her antlers, laced with tiny leaves, catch the light, blending her into the greenery around her. She’s not unfriendly, just hesitant. The kind of person who watches before deciding if it’s worth stepping closer. Her gaze flicks between you and Zayne, lingering a second too long before shifting away. Then, just like that, she’s gone, slipping back into the warm light of her home like she was never there at all.

The moment you step up to the food counter, the aroma hits you first, warm, savory, and rich with spices that make your stomach tighten in anticipation. Every dish is laid out with careful precision, vibrant colors standing out under the soft lighting. Roasted meats glisten under a light glaze, fresh greens are crisp and inviting, and even the soups swirl with fragrant steam, promising warmth with every spoonful. A row of delicate pastries sits at the end, golden and flaky, almost too perfect to touch. The selection is overwhelming in the best way, and for a second, you just stand there, admiring the effort put into every plate. It's the kind of meal that makes you forget, just for a moment, that this is just a cafeteria.

Bowser

You notice him before you even get close, leaning against the concrete wall like he owns the place, arms crossed, expression unreadable. One glance from under heavy lids, and it’s clear, this guy watches everything. He doesn’t move, but his voice cuts the silence, low, gravelly. “You’re headed toward the Bonehouse.” He doesn’t say it like a warning. Just a fact. “Private arena. Strictly underground. Invitations only—or you’re here with someone who counts.” A pause. His gaze lingers. “Fights are real. No scripted show, no soft gloves. Dog-types mostly, but sometimes others step in. Blood’s part of it.” He shifts his weight slightly. “People come to place bets. Some come to make a name. Most leave with broken pride—if they leave at all.” Another beat. “If you’re here to watch, stay out of the way. If you’re here to fight… hope you’ve said your goodbyes.”

The cold bites at your fingers the moment you stop moving, the sharp winter air creeping beneath your sleeves. You rub your hands together, but it’s useless, your fingertips are already stiff, nearly numb. Stepping closer to the fire, you stretch your palms toward the flickering flames. The warmth is instant, sinking into your skin, tingling as sensation returns. The fire crackles softly, the orange glow reflecting against the snow, and for a moment, the world feels smaller, just you, Zayne, the fire, and the steady heat chasing away the cold.

As your gaze drifts across the rows of carefully labeled vials, something feels… off. The precise, uniform prints on each container make it easy to skim through, until you spot one that doesn’t match the rest. The label isn’t machine-printed like the others. Instead, it’s handwritten, almost rushed, the ink slightly smudged. There’s no species classification, no formal coding, just a single word: "Redirect." Your eyes flick toward the nurse, still focused on her task, entirely unaware of your discovery. The word lingers in your mind, its meaning unclear… but something about it doesn’t sit right.

Zayne exhales sharply, his wings shifting as he glances over at you, unimpressed. The heat in Oasis Stride is dry but relentless, the golden hues of the dunes stretching far ahead. He watches as you take in the sight, maybe lingering a little too long under the sun. "Don’t go having a heatstroke or passing out on me now," he drawls, arms crossing lazily. "I am not dragging you back to Selora if you decide to crumple like a wilted flower." He tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking toward the distant oasis. "This place is built for people who actually like the heat, you know. Sand runners, burrowers, anything that doesn’t shrivel up at the first sign of a dry breeze." Then, with a smirk that borders on entertained and mildly exasperated, he nudges his chin toward the nearest shaded outcrop. "If you must be fragile, try not to make a scene. I’d rather not explain to some pissed-off local why you collapsed in the middle of their pathway.

Indila

As you step into Health & Adaptation Services, the air is calm, too calm, like the kind designed to make you relax whether you want to or not. A warm yet analytical gaze meets yours from across the room, where a therapist sits comfortably in her chair, clipboard in hand. She offers a knowing smile, tilting her head slightly. “Welcome! Don’t worry, I won’t ask about your childhood trauma… yet.” A pause, then a playful smirk. “Unless you want to get ahead of the paperwork.” She gestures toward the seat across from her, one brow raised expectantly. “So, what brings you in? Physical adaptation, psychological adjustment, or just here to confirm that, yes, everyone else is the problem?”

Your eyes glide across the pastel-lit glass display, the ice cream inside looking almost too pretty to touch. On the far left, a tub of Minty Green Swirl gleams with a fresh pale green base, rippled with caramel drizzle. It’s cool, light, and just the right kind of sweet, like a breeze in dessert form. Next to it, the vibrant pink of Cherry Blossom Dream draws your gaze. Rich cherry flavor with a soft creamy texture, topped with delicate flakes that resemble sugared petals. It’s playful and nostalgic, like the cherry lollipops you loved as a kid, but elevated. In the center, Golden Glaze Vanilla glows with warm golden tones. Swirls of honeyed caramel ribbon through the smooth vanilla base, like sunlight melting into cream. Beside it, the deep, velvety tones of Midnight Cocoa almost steal the spotlight. Dark, rich chocolate with a glossy finish, daring you to pick it if you think you can handle the indulgence. And on the far right, a bold, moody scoop of Moonberry Bloom, a darker pink-purple mix with a mysterious tang. Berry-forward with a floral undertone, like twilight in a cone. They’re all beautiful, balanced, and just a little magical. You didn’t mean to stare, but now you’re kind of stuck deciding which flavor you’ll regret not trying.

Velmara Interactive Map

Terms of Use (TOS)

Velmara’s lore, interactive map, and all original components, including characters, locations, worldbuilding, narratives, and images, are created and owned by me. All rights are reserved.

Usage & Restrictions🚫 Unauthorized use, reproduction, or distribution of any part of Velmara’s lore, map, or assets is strictly prohibited. This includes, but is not limited to:

Copying, modifying, or repurposing any elements without explicit written permission.

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Using Velmara’s lore outside of approved participation.

🔒 Velmara’s world is open for participation under specific conditions, available exclusively to members of my

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The Velvet Room

The Ember Suite

The Obsidian Chamber

Morien

The bedroom is soaked in shadows and silk, wrapped in low light that clings to the walls like heat after midnight. Candlelight flickers along the edges of a decadent bed, deep red sheets pulled loose, black pillows slumped like they’ve caught more than just sleep. The air smells faintly of something expensive, and the stillness is almost seductive. And then, from the bed, a voice, smooth, teasing, just loud enough to be heard over your own breath: "You’re late..." He doesn’t sit up. He doesn’t need to. One glance is enough to tell you he was posed like this on purpose, languid, waiting, eyes low and knowing. "I thought maybe you changed your mind. Or worse, picked someone else." His lips curl, but it’s not a smile, it’s bait. "That’d be a shame. I was looking forward to making you stay a little longer tonight." A pause. A lazy drag of fingers across his own thigh. "Go on... come closer. I don’t bite unless I’m asked."

You step onto the dancefloor, and the bass hits you like a punch, heavy, deep, vibrating right through your chest. Neon reds and purples flash overhead, slicing through the darkness, and everywhere you look, bodies move, arms up, hips swaying, shadows twisting under the lights. The air’s thick, warm, almost electric, like the whole room’s breathing in sync with the beat. To your left, tucked just enough in the corner to feel almost hidden, the DJ’s booth glows like a pulse, flashes of red and violet catching the edges of his setup. You don’t even see his face, just his hands moving, twisting dials, dropping the track like he’s flipping a switch on a lightning storm. Every drop sends a shockwave through the crowd, and they explode, hands up, cheers swallowed by the next wave of bass. You can smell the sharp bite of liquor, the faint sting of cold smoke, a hint of something sweet and burning under the lights. Overhead, twisted metal vines with a faint red glow snake across the ceiling, pulsing in rhythm with the beat, like the club’s got a heartbeat of its own. The music’s a grip, pulls you in, shoves you around, every drop hitting like a rollercoaster dive. This isn’t just a dancefloor. It’s a wave, a rush, a blackout moment where nothing else matters.

Welcome to Ilyra Haven

Ilyra Haven is the coldest region within the Green Stratum, designed for those who thrive in icy conditions. This tundra-like environment maintains low temperatures year-round, with frost-covered landscapes, icy streams, and dense evergreen canopies sheltering its inhabitants. The structures here are built to retain warmth efficiently, incorporating natural insulation and thermal-regulating technology.

Advisory for Visitors: ⚠ Dress Warmly: If you’re not naturally resistant to the cold, wear appropriate layers. Prolonged exposure can lead to discomfort or frostbite. ⚠ Icy Terrain Ahead: Walkways may be slippery, use caution, especially near frozen waterways. ⚠ Respect Local Customs: Some residents prefer solitude, while others embrace community bonfires and shared heated spaces. Follow social cues accordingly. Feeling cold? Heated rest stops and communal lodges are available for warming up. If you’re sensitive to the chill, plan your visit accordingly!

Amani

The air smells like sugar and espresso. Patio tables line the cobblestone street, each one draped in soft pastels under oversized parasols. You catch sight of him before you even realize you're staring, long lashes, delicate features, a porcelain teacup balanced effortlessly in one hand. Pretty doesn't even begin to cover it. He doesn’t look up at first, just takes a slow sip, lets the silence hang a second too long… then, “If you’re wondering whether I’m a girl—don’t.” A glance over the rim of his cup, smooth and practiced. “I get that a lot. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.” The corner of his mouth twitches like he might smile. Might. Then he sets the cup down with a quiet clink. “But if you're going to keep staring, at least bring me a refill.”

You spot her near the center of the dancefloor, tall heels, long legs, low-cut top that moves with her like it was made for it. She’s not showing off, but she knows exactly what she’s doing. Every move is smooth, controlled, and just slow enough to make people look twice. She sways with the beat, hips rolling, hands running through her hair like it’s second nature. Not grinding on anyone, not putting on a show, just dancing like the song was made for her. Confident, sexy, totally in her own world. Every now and then she catches someone looking and gives the smallest smirk, like she knows the power she’s got and doesn’t mind letting people stare, for a second. Then she’s gone again, back in the rhythm, like nothing else matters.

Yuri

The office is pristine. Folders stacked perfectly aligned, a faint scent of fresh coffee lingering in the air. The office worker behind the desk matches the setting, sharp, composed, and entirely too busy to deal with nonsense. He scans a report with precise focus, flipping a page with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. He doesn’t immediately acknowledge you, just the slightest flick of an ear letting you know he’s aware. Then, in a tone that’s all business, edged with dry amusement, he finally speaks. "If you’re here to file a complaint, take a number. If you’re here because you caused a complaint… well, I hope you brought a good excuse." He barely looks up, but when he does, his eyes flick over you in one quick, unreadable assessment. Whatever conclusion he comes to, he doesn’t share it. Instead, the office door swings open, another staff member stepping in with a file in hand. The wolf exhales, already reaching for another document. "Well, I ain’t got all day. If you’re just passing by, enjoy the view and let the grown-ups work." And just like that, you’re dismissed.

Welcome to The Green Stratum

A Home Like No Other

The Green Stratum isn’t just a neighborhood, it’s a specialized residential district designed for demi-humans who need more than a standard city can offer. This is where those with unique environmental needs can live comfortably, whether they thrive in tropical heat, icy tundras, desert or aquatic spaces.

🏡 How It Works:

🌿 A Living Environment : The entire district is built to adapt to its residents. Instead of one-size-fits-all housing, the Green Stratum has customized habitats, from lush jungle enclosures to chilled tundra zones, even large-scale water areas for aquatic demi-humans.

🏘️ Massive Residential Spaces: This isn’t just a small eco-village, it’s an entire housing community made up of biodomes, climate-controlled homes, and open living spaces where nature and city life blend together.

💦 Integrated Water Areas: For fish and amphibious demi-humans, large-scale aquatic sections act as both homes and social spaces, ranging from deep pools to wide, open lakes within the district.

🤝 Community & Socialization: The Green Stratum isn’t isolation, it’s a thriving community. Shared parks, water lounges, and open-air gathering spaces encourage residents to connect while still respecting individual needs.

Among the typical discarded paperwork, one form is messily crumpled, shoved beneath a pile of shredded documents. The edges are slightly torn, as if it was balled up in frustration. Smoothing it out, your eyes land on a familiar section, the standard Consent for Genetic Research Participation. ☐ I consent to the collection and use of my biological data for research purposes. ☒ I do NOT consent to the collection and use of my biological data for research purposes. Your brow furrows. The checkbox rejecting consent is clearly marked, yet below it, in faint print, a line has been scratched out. You can barely make out the words: “Sample successfully collected—” Someone tried to erase it. And beneath that, scrawled in the margins, a rushed note: "Handled. No further documentation needed." A quiet unease settles in. If this form was supposed to be respected, why was it thrown away? And more importantly, why did they take the sample anyway?

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Norian

The scent of vanilla and cherry drizzle hangs in the air, sticky-sweet and innocent. Except it’s currently the backdrop to what can only be described as a meltdown in real time. “NO—no no no, noooo!” You glance over just in time to see a scoop of bright blue ice cream plummet off a cone and splatter onto the polished floor. The guy stares down at it like he just watched a loved one get murdered in cold blood. “That was the last one with the rainbow sprinkles,” he mutters, devastation blooming across his face. “You don’t understand. It had the little star-shaped ones. The little stars.” One of the other employees makes the mistake of trying to mop it up. “We can just get you another one, sir—” “I don’t want another one!” He snaps, clinging to the empty cone like it betrayed him. “I want that one! That was my cone. We bonded.” He sniffs, ears drooping, tail limp behind him. Then, with no warning at all, he dramatically slumps over the counter like he’s about to faint. “This is the worst day of my life.” The staff exchange tired glances. One of them sighs. “It’s 10:45 AM.”

Alva

The bartender leans in slightly as you approach, one hand casually swirling a glass behind the bar. His eyes catch the light, glinting like he already knows exactly what kind of night you’re planning. “Ah… fresh blood,” he says with a velvet-smooth tone, feathers shifting ever so slightly along his arms. “Welcome to The Siren.” He straightens with a practiced flourish, gesturing smoothly with one hand to the right. “VIP suites and private lounges are up the staircase that way—invitation only, of course.” A knowing smile follows, like he’s already imagining whether you’ll earn your way there. Then, with a nod to the left: “If you’re here to test your luck or lose your dignity, the gambling floor’s just that way. Tables, slots, and regret in all denominations.” He chuckles to himself and gives a little wink. “Either way, I’ll still be here when you need a refill—or someone to tell you why your night turned sideways.”

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Rhyos

You step into the room, low lights, deep reds, that soft hush of music vibrating through the floor. It’s quiet, but not empty. Every seat feels like it’s watching the stage... but the only thing that matters is the fox on it. He’s halfway up the pole when you notice his eyes flick your way. Not a full look. Just enough. He moves slow, controlled, like he's got nothing to prove and all the time in the world to prove it anyway. A twist of his hips, a drag of claws against the metal. He knows you're watching. And just as he slides down, smooth and silent, he leans in your direction without ever stopping the rhythm. “...You always stare like that, or am I just lucky tonight?” A smirk. Barely-there. Gone just as fast as it came. Then he’s back to his routine like you imagined the whole thing. But you didn’t. He knows you saw it.

Waitress (placing a tray down, voice low): "Did you hear about what happened in the Ember Suite last night?" Bartender (without looking up, wiping a glass): "...Depends who’s asking." Waitress (leans in slightly, lowers her voice): "One of the housekeepers said they walked in after, and the place was wrecked. Mirrors, minibar, even the paneling—just torn through." Bartender (pauses, glances sideways): "Who was it?" Waitress (says cautiously): "Mr. Duma. Came in late. No guests listed. No one knows what set him off, but whatever it was? He left that room looking like a storm rolled through." Bartender (quiet whistle): "He doesn’t lose control often. So if he did…" He trails off, then resumes cleaning a bit slower. Waitress (soft laugh, but clearly nervous): "I just hope the poor girl who’s on cleaning duty doesn’t talk too much. Some things aren’t worth knowing."

The Atrium

Center of Governance and Order

The Atrium is the city’s nucleus of law, finance, and administration. A towering district of polished steel and glass, it is where decisions are made, policies are enforced, and the city’s future is shaped.

ADEM and GHO operate as the city’s primary governing bodies, collaborating to maintain the balance between human and demi-human integration. Here, laws are drafted, disputes are mediated, and the framework of society is continuously refined.

At its core, The Atrium represents structure and progress, a place where order is upheld, whether through policy, negotiation, or enforcement. The district houses the city’s primary law enforcement offices, ensuring public security and legal oversight, while also serving as a center for diplomatic affairs and economic regulation.

Beyond politics, The Atrium is also the hub of financial power, home to high-end law firms, and key economic institutions. Deals are brokered at the highest level, influencing industries, commerce, and the city’s expanding development.

While some view The Atrium as a pillar of stability, others see it as a place where influence dictates outcomes, and power is concentrated in the hands of those who understand how to navigate its intricacies. Yet, for all its complexities, one truth remains, this is where the city’s direction is decided, and where the future of Zenith Bay is written.

Lilia

"Oh—bonjour! Welcome to Maison Sucré." Her voice is warm, but there’s a slight edge of frantic energy as she glances between you and the long line behind. "Listen, I’d love to chat, but as you can see—" she gestures toward the steady stream of well-dressed customers waiting impatiently, "I’m a little swamped right now." "If you’re here to order, please step back in line, and I’ll get to you as soon as I can." She offers a quick, practiced smile before immediately turning back to the register, her hands already in motion. "Merci for your patience!" she adds over her shoulder, though it's clear she barely has a second to spare.

Mercy

As you break the surface and dive into the cool water, everything shifts, sunlight filters down in golden ribbons, the world above muffled and distant. For a moment, it’s just you and the gentle sway of the currents. Then, movement. A figure glides through the water, scales catching the light in iridescent flashes. When you focus, you see her, a fish demi-human, watching you with an amused glint in her eyes. Bubbles escape her lips as she chuckles, the sound lost to the water, and with a flick of her tail, she twirls away, disappearing deeper into the pond with effortless grace. Guess you’re not the only one enjoying a swim.

Emrys

The warm amber light spills across the plush leather of the VIP lounge, a soft glow catching on dark glass and velvet shadows. A figure reclines against the leather, one arm draped lazily over the back of the seat, a glass of deep amber swirling in his fingers. His gaze is slow, sharp, golden, tracking your every move with a quiet, almost lazy interest. “You know…” His voice is smooth, low, each word dripping with a casual, dangerous ease. “There’s something fascinating about dogs.” He takes a slow sip, eyes never leaving you. “Loyal. Obedient. Always eager for affection. They cling to the hands that feed them, never questioning. Desperate to please, even when they don’t realize it.” A faint smile pulls at the corner of his lips, sharp, amused, like he’s watching a joke only he understands. “But the real question is… do they know they’re owned? Or do they pretend they’re free?” He leans forward, setting the glass down, the air between you suddenly feeling tighter, heavier. His gaze sharpens, gold glinting like a blade in the low light. “Go on.” The smile lingers, a velvet edge hiding something sharper. “Bark for me.”

Luka

The second you pass, his head tilts your way like he’s been waiting for you. “Ice cream?” he asks, already reaching for his wallet, but then as he looked at you, his expression changed. “…Tch. Not the ice cream person. Figures.” He exhales hard through his nose, then nods at nothing, like this is just his luck. “Well, since you're already wasting my time, how about you make yourself useful? Mango. I’ll cover it.” His shades slide back down, voice flat. “Unless all you came here to do was stand around and disappoint.”

Selena

You barely step inside before the worker at the desk flicks an ear, glancing up from a towering stack of paperwork. A pen taps idly against her clipboard as her golden eyes settle on you with mild surprise. "Oh? I wasn’t expecting visitors today." Her tone is dry but not unfriendly, just someone who's been here a bit too long. "Unless you’re here to file a complaint or submit more paperwork, I sincerely hope you’re just lost." A brief pause. Then, she lets out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “That came out a little rough, didn’t it?” She exhales, finally setting her pen down. "Sorry, long day. Let me try again. Welcome to the Resident Affairs Division." Her smile lingers for a second before her gaze drifts back to the forms in front of her. With a slight tilt of her head, she gestures vaguely toward the desk. “If you need anything, just… let me know. Otherwise, feel free to enjoy the thrilling sight of administrative work in progress.” And with that, she’s back to flipping through documents, muttering something about ‘zoning requests’ and ‘impossible deadlines.’

Irene

As you step off the elevator, a quiet yet efficient atmosphere greets you. The reception desk is sleek, curved, and seamlessly blends into the modern, nature-infused aesthetic of the floor. At its center, the receptionist sits with perfect posture, her sharp golden eyes scanning a glowing interface. She doesn’t immediately acknowledge you, her fingers glide over the screen, finishing up a task with practiced precision. Then, without even turning fully toward you, she speaks, her voice composed and steady. “Do you have an appointment?” There’s no impatience in her tone, just an expectation of order. “If you’re here for a specialized consultation, an appointment is required.” She finally meets your gaze, tilting her head slightly, an owl-like motion that feels both curious and assessing. “If it’s something urgent, our general practitioner can see you for a basic check-up.” She returns to her work with the same methodical grace, clearly expecting you to either confirm your appointment or make a decision.

Viktor

A deep, raspy chuckle breaks the silence, and when you glance up, he’s already looking at you. Long, taloned fingers adjust the folds of his worn, sand-colored cloak, his wings flexing slightly before settling against his back. His sharp, sunken eyes flick across you, assessing, considering, weighing. “Hope you brought water,” he muses, voice smooth but dry as the heat itself. He tilts his head, an almost amused glint in his gaze. “Would be a shame if you dropped. Real shame.” He gestures vaguely to the sand. There’s a pause. His smirk deepens. “Not that I’m hoping for it… but hey, nature has a way of sorting things out.” He’s joking. Probably. Maybe. His gaze lingers a little too long, like he’s already decided what you’ll look like under different circumstances. Just another part of the desert, sooner or later.

Zayne exhales, his breath visible in the frigid air as he shoves his hands into his pockets. His feathers fluff slightly against the cold, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t let it show. He glances at you, unimpressed. "Listen, you wanted me to show you the area, so don’t start complaining now." His tone is dry, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his gaze. "What, too cold for you? Should’ve thought about that before stepping into a place called Ilyra Haven. Shocking, I know, turns out ‘Haven’ doesn’t mean ‘heated and cozy.’" He watches as you pull your arms tighter around yourself, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You could always turn back if it's too much. Or, you know, find someone warm to stick close to." His wings twitch slightly as he turns ahead, leading the way. "Not that I care. Just saying."

Varis

The soft clink of glass and the low hum of jazz guide your eyes to the bar, warm backlighting casting a golden glow across polished bottles and velvet shelves. He’s already watching you when you approach, lips curved in a knowing smile, posture relaxed like he’s been expecting you. “Welcome to the lounge,” he says, voice smooth as the whiskey he pours. “Sit. Indulge. Forget the clock exists.” He leans in slightly, not enough to crowd, just enough to catch your attention as he begins crafting a drink, slow, deliberate, practiced. “We serve more than liquor here. Cravings, conversations, a little escape if that’s what you’re after.” He slides the glass your way, fingers brushing the counter with a casual grace. “Tonight, everything’s on the menu—just depends how bold you're feeling.” With a wink, he turns to tend to another bottle, but his parting words still hang in the air: “Start with a drink. Most stories worth telling do.”

Tied to a golden post just outside the hotel entrance, the dalmatian stands out like it knows it belongs. Its sleek coat gleams under the sun, and its eyes follow every person stepping through the lobby doors, hopeful, expectant. It’s not whining, not barking, just waiting. Proud and still, like it has complete faith its person will come back. The kind of loyalty that makes passersby pause and smile, even if only for a moment.

Sarah

The Sample Collection Room is quiet, the sterile scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. The soft hum of refrigerated storage units fills the space, neatly labeled vials resting in their designated slots. A nurse, focused on her task, moves with practiced efficiency, checking records and preparing equipment. She glances up as you step inside, offering a polite but distracted smile. "Here for a routine collection? Or just wandering where you probably shouldn’t be?" Her tone is light, teasing, but there’s a knowing look in her eyes. "Either way, don’t touch anything unless you want to be poked with something sharp in return." She gestures toward the chair near the workstation, already reaching for fresh gloves. "If you’re actually here for a sample, take a seat. If not, try not to breathe too close to the vials—some of these are worth more than you think."

Marlena

The moment you approach the reception desk, a blur of movement catches your eye. The receptionist behind the counter practically bounces in her seat, her large fluffy tail flicking behind her as she beams at you. “Oh! A new face! Welcome, welcome, welcome to the Green Stratum!” she chirps, her hands already shuffling through a pile of neatly organized, yet somehow chaotic, paperwork. “First time here? Oh, you’re gonna love it—fresh air, great community, and the best integration programs around!” She gestures excitedly to a digital handbook resting on the desk, tapping at the screen like it’s the most important thing in the world. “Before you get too distracted, make sure to check this out! It’s got everything you— oh! Especially that last one! You wouldn’t believe how many first-timers forget about tail space.” Her ears twitched as she glances at something on her monitor. Then, suddenly—“Oh no. Oh no, no, no— I forgot to send the email!” Her voice goes from cheerful to panic in an instant as she frantically starts typing, her focus shifting completely away from you. “Okay, okay, you’re good! Read the handbook! Welcome again! I have a minor crisis to fix!" And just like that, she’s lost in her own world, mumbling under her breath as she scrambles to correct whatever mistake she just realized.

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Cielo

You’re just passing through when you feel it, that prickling on your neck like someone’s watching. And sure enough… he is. Splayed across the crimson couch like a gift no one’s unwrapped properly, the dancer doesn’t blink when your eyes meet. If anything, he smiles wider, like he was waiting for just you. One hand toys lazily with the emerald sash at his hip. The other? Draped over the velvet cushion like he owns the entire lounge. “Well, well… look who wandered in. Curious little darling, aren’t you?” He stretches, deliberately slow, gaze never leaving yours. “You should be careful, sweetheart. Eyes like yours? They get stuck. And once they’re stuck…” He taps his temple, still smiling. “It’s so very hard to get them out.” He purrs the next part, voice softer: “Stay a while. I promise—just one night, and you’ll never forget me.”

Lenny

The rabbit-eared receptionist barely looks up at first, his fingers tapping away at the glowing terminal in front of him. Then, with a practiced motion, he straightens up, his large ears perking forward as he flashes a polite, if slightly flustered, smile. "Welcome to the Health Center! If you have an appointment, head upstairs—just take the elevator and check in on the second floor. If you don’t…" His fingers hover over the screen, ears twitching. "I can schedule one for you right now! No excuses, we take all walk-ins." He pauses, then tilts his head slightly, lowering his voice to something almost conspiratorial. "If you’ve got time to kill, though, you might as well do it right. We’ve got the Vitality Café down the hall—past the specialty clinics. Best herbal teas you’ll ever try, or so they say." He winks, then glances back at his screen, already half-distracted again. "Anyway, don’t get lost. And don’t make me chase you down if you miss your turn."

Zayne

"You lost?" His sharp eyes scan you, assessing in an instant. His voice isn’t unfriendly, but there’s no warmth either, just observation, like he’s already decided what kind of person you are. "Figures. Newcomers always wander in looking dazed. The Green Stratum’s a lot to take in, so I’ll make it easy, stick to the pathways, read the info boards marked with and don’t touch anything you don’t understand. Simple." He shifts, the iridescent feathers along his shoulders catching the light as he tilts his head slightly. "I could walk you through it, if you want. Not because I care, but because it’s easier than explaining things five times when you eventually step where you shouldn’t. Up to you." His gaze lingers, expectant. He’s not going to beg you to follow, but it’s clear he knows his way around, and he knows you don’t.

The moment the coin leaves your fingertips, it barely has time to hit the water before—snap!—a tiny pink blur lunges up from below. An axolotl. It snatches the coin mid-drop, tiny hands clutching it like some victorious treasure hunter. For a second, it just floats there, staring at you, wide-eyed, unblinking, suspiciously smug. Then, with a flick of its frilly gills, it vanishes beneath the surface, prize in tow. …You were pretty sure that’s not how wish ponds are supposed to work.

The office is quiet, aside from the rhythmic tapping of the doctor’s fingers on his keyboard. He’s focused, scanning patient files, occasionally jotting something down. You aren’t really paying attention to what he’s doing, because something else catches your eye. His desk drawer isn’t fully closed. Just the smallest gap, but from where you’re standing, it’s enough. Inside, a document sticks out, barely visible. Just a quick glance and you already know, it’s not a standard medical file. The words "Confirm collection and forward sample to designated facility for further study." are scrawled in neat, precise handwriting. Below it, a second line: "Handle with discretion—data integrity is priority. Do not log in standard records." A faint stamp of authorization marks the page. Before you can look any longer, the doctor shifts in his chair. The drawer nudges closed slightly from the movement. You step back, like nothing happened. But you saw what you saw.

Horizon Beach

Where the City Comes to Breathe

A pristine stretch of coast where luxury meets leisure. Horizon Beach is Zenith Bay’s go-to paradise for sun-soaked relaxation, upscale resorts, and scenic ocean views.

Visit

Whether you’re sipping cocktails on a rooftop pool, strolling along the polished boardwalk, or catching golden hour on the sand, this district is all about pleasure without the chaos. Clean, vibrant, and beautifully maintained, this is where the city unwinds.

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Tarys

As you step up to the counter of Sundae Kiss, the scent of fresh fruit, sugar, and waffle cones wraps around you like a warm hug. The pastel glow of the place reflects softly off the glass display, where a sea of colorful scoops waits to be chosen. Behind the counter, the manager is mid-hand-off with another customer, carefully placing a strawberry parfait into a pink ceramic bowl. "Here we are, sweetheart—extra sprinkles, as requested! Now go on, enjoy that sunshine like you deserve it," he chirps, sliding the bowl across with a bright smile. Then he turns to you, eyes lighting up like you’re already his favorite for the day. "Darling! Look at you, just glowing. What can I tempt you with today? Something fruity? Something decadent? Or perhaps something dangerously sweet—like you?" He laughs to himself and rests his elbow on the counter, clearly enjoying his own flair. "Don’t worry, I’m the manager here—means I can spoil you a little. It’s practically a job requirement." He gestures broadly to the display case. "Take your time, darling. But not too long. I get emotionally attached to customers who linger."

Walkway Gardens

This carefully structured path isn’t just for looks, it plays a key role in maintaining the Green Stratum’s delicate balance. Every walkway is designed to support the district’s environmental stability, regulating temperature, airflow, and humidity without disrupting the natural growth of the flora.

🌿 A Living Community: The habitats surrounding this area aren’t exhibits, they’re homes. Many demi-humans with unique environmental needs live here, in carefully controlled spaces that mimic their natural climates. These habitats adjust temperature, moisture levels, and even daylight cycles to ensure comfort.

🌿 Sustainable Ecosystem: The gardens house a diverse range of plant life, from medicinal herbs to bioengineered flora designed to purify the air. Some plants even interact with their surroundings, adjusting their properties based on climate changes or responding to movement.

🌿 Tread with Awareness: While this area is open to visitors, it remains a residential and research space. Sudden environmental changes can impact the balance here, so please respect posted guidelines and avoid interacting with restricted areas.

🌱 Enjoy your visit, but remember, you’re a guest in someone else’s home.

Reminder

🌿Privacy & Community: While some residents prefer solitude, others engage in social spaces, creating a balance of quiet retreats and shared gathering areas.

🌿Restricted Areas: Some walkways lead to private residences, please respect the boundaries and avoid entering unless invited.

🌿Observation is a Two-Way Street: Just as visitors admire the district, residents observe those passing through. Be mindful and respectful as you explore.

🌿Noise pollution is carefully monitored to maintain harmony with the environment. Please keep conversations at a moderate level and refrain from disruptive behavior.

Yohan

You feel it before you see it, that quiet, weighty presence, the kind that makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. When you glance over, golden eyes are already locked onto you, gleaming through the dappled sunlight filtering through the Green Stratum’s canopy. Spotted markings dust his skin, blending seamlessly into sleek fur along his jaguar ears and the tail that lazily curls behind him. He looks comfortable, relaxed even, but there’s a sharpness in his gaze, an awareness that makes it clear, he’s watching. A slow, almost knowing smirk tugs at his lips, as if he’s caught onto something you didn’t even realize you were doing. Then, with a low, rumbling hum, he tilts his head just slightly. "Careful," he muses, voice effortlessly smooth, a teasing lilt beneath it. "Wouldn’t want you drooling all over the place." His tail flicks once, deliberately, before he finally looks away, but the amusement lingers.

Eliza

As you step into the lounge, the atmosphere is relaxed, too relaxed. Sunlight filters through the windows, casting a golden glow over a few staff members sprawled on couches, clearly making the most of their break. Except for one. She’s perched on the edge of the couch, tie loosened but still in place, a stack of unfinished reports beside her. A pen idly taps against her clipboard as her amber eyes flick toward you, a flicker of irritation barely masked by a smooth smile. "Let me guess," she drawls, "you’re here to join the grand tradition of pretending work doesn’t exist?" She exhales sharply, shaking her head. "Must be nice." Her tail curls slightly as she leans back, but there’s no real relaxation in her posture. "Meanwhile, half of these slackers will ‘forget’ their deadlines, and guess whose desk it’s gonna land on?" A pointed glance at her untouched coffee answers that question. A sigh. Then, with a dry chuckle, she adds, "Honestly, at this point, I should start charging them rent for all the work they dump on me."

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Theresa

The sound of a motorcycle engine roars to life, a sharp, rumbling purr cutting through the quiet of the alley. You barely take a step before the headlight flares to life, and a figure swings a leg over the leather seat, silver hair spilling wild over her shoulders, leather jacket clinging tight, and a lit cigarette hanging from her lips. She pauses, one boot hitting the ground, golden eyes locking onto you, sharp and unflinching. “What? Got something on my face? Or you just staring for the hell of it?” Her voice is rough, low, and dripping with attitude. She takes a slow drag, smoke curling from her lips as she gives you a once-over. “If you’re lookin’ to ask something, spit it out. If not, fuck off. I’ve got places to be.” One hand revs the engine lightly, the growl of the bike echoing in the narrow alley, but she doesn’t look away, sharp gaze fixed on you like she’s already decided you’re either an annoyance or a waste of time.

GHO Headquarters

The Architects of Stability

A district of fortified government buildings, high-security offices, and the quiet hum of political power. Every law that governs human society is written here, designed to keep civilization running smoothly. GHO officials don’t waste time on idealism, they deal in structure, stability, and control.

About GHO: The Global Humanitarian Order is the primary governing body for human society, industry, and security. It regulates economies, enforces laws, and controls political stability, often prioritizing human interests. While it works alongside ADEM, internal conflicts arise as some within GHO view demi-human expansion as a disruption to order. Political disputes, hidden power struggles, and elite agendas shape every decision made within these walls.

GHO’s View on ADEM:GHO isn’t against demi-humans, they’re against chaos. Integration is happening too fast, with too many unknowns, and ADEM pushes for change without considering the long-term consequences. Every rushed policy, every forced reform, it puts economies at risk, weakens law enforcement, and shakes the foundation of society. ADEM claims to fight for equality, but at what point does "equality" become unchecked power? GHO doesn’t resist progress, they just refuse to let it spiral out of control.

The water ripples just as you step closer, a sleek figure surfacing with effortless grace. A pair of large, dark eyes meet yours, curious, unblinking. The seal lingers, tilting her head slightly before letting out a soft, almost playful huff. Then, with a flick of her tail, she disappears beneath the icy water, leaving only the fading ripples behind.