Regions
Let us turn our eye towards Downer's Grove. The run down section of the city was well known for its criminal activity and the shootouts were a regular occurrence. Anything a destructive man could devise happened there and then some. A neutral bar was peace grounds for the three up and coming families, smack in the middle of the run down red light district, Harry's Place. All manner of men entered as both friend and foe alike. "Ladies and gentlemen." The weasel cleared his throat. "Welcome to Harry's one and all. We have a great line up set for tonight so just relax and grab a drink or two. Our first act tonight will be the lovely Miss Sarah Hart." The bar gave a mild applause and the soft furred squirrel took the stage and began to sing.
Just south of Downer's Grove is the industrial complex, a recently abandoned steel mill, riddled with homeless bums and whispers of illicit deals. The air is scented with old metal, blood and booze.
From here we turn our eye west, to the modest part of town where the middle to lower class resided, clawing out their foothold in the cruel unforgiving concrete.
Directly east reside the manors along the ocean side abodes where the wealthy families can be found in manors far too big to do anyone any good.
To the north, lies a mountain range and a small city, Orland Hills, filled with heavy woods and all manner of feral beasts and even more curious mountain residents and their moonshine.
