West
The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a grunginess that permeates the town from the graffiti on the once cleaned brick buildings to the broken and unmaintained architecture. Crime runs high within the western half of town, making it the home of supernatural gangs of illicit activities. Such activities are rarely reported, however, and most residents are distrustful of individual's of authorities, and often let the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.
What You'll Find Here
Black Market
Cull & Pistol
Noah's Ark
Syn
Black Market
Just like any city - Sacrosanct is not without it's deep, dark underbelly. Hidden in the graffiti-ridden streets of the West, behind closed warehouse doors, lies the Black Market. Forever moving, it's nearly impossible to find without knowing someone who knows someone. Anything you desire can be brought for a hefty price within the Black Market - be it drugs, weapons, or lives.
What You'll Find Here
Cull & Pistol
Hidden within the dark alleyways of the Western Ward, Cull & Pistol is a dim, often smoky bar. With a small variety of bottled and craft beers, Cull & Pistol is a quaint little neighborhood joint. With its no-frills moto, the dingy bar offers little more than liquor, music from an old jukebox, and a few frequently occupied pool tables.
Bartender Raylin Chike
Noah's Ark
Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark (known simply as The Ark) is a sleek superyacht known both for its fight rings and recent...renovations, of sorts. Accessible from an entrance hidden in the shadows, The Ark is a veritable Were-playground that specializes in fighting tournaments for all creatures great and small. With both singles and doubles tournaments to compete in, the title of Ark Champion is hotly contested amongst the Were population. If anything illegal is going on in the city it's sure to be happening within the back rooms or behind the ring-side bar.
Note: This is a Were only establishment. All other species will be swiftly escorted out.
Home of: Nightshade
Owner Aiden Tetradore
Co-owner Tobias Cain
Bar Manager Mira Ramos
Bartender Henry Tudor
Waitress Carolina Bedford
Syn
Within the turbulent industrial district lies this club. The warehouse doesn't look like much on the outside but it provides a memorable experience from the state of the art lighting, offbeat Victorian-inspired artwork, comfortable black leather lounges, and the infamous 'black light' room. There is a wide variety of alcohol that lines the shelves of both of the magical and ordinary variety. It is a common stomping ground for the supernatural who want to let loose and dance the night away to the music that floods the establishment. Humans are most welcome if they dare.
Owner Risque Voth
Manager Darcy Blackjack
Cats Aiden Tetradore
Cats Harlequin Westward
a million ways to hurt you, running through my head
Posted on June 08, 2016 by ASKAREE
Askaree Bint Bahar
"Because I'm hoping that by asking questions it'll speed this little chin-wag along and get you out of my hair and on with whatever moronic crap you have planned for the rest of the evening." I mean, why the hell else would she indulge his attempts to titilate and prod her? Social etiquette? A heartfelt interest in the mildly-pathetic woes of his misplaced trinket and plans to obtain it? No. More accurately, hell to the fucking no. Truly she postulated that maybe, just maybe, if she granted him the supposed pleasure of flapping his gums around a bit more it might bring about some measure of boredom that would lead him onwards and away from her clearly oh-so-patient self.
That was, until the pair actually (finally) arrived at what it was he had planned for the remainder of his evening and the role he presumed she might be best afforded within his intended affairs. A spark, just a flicker mind, skittered through the waiting tinder of her sizzling innards, quirking the clandestine brow of her inner leviathan that had, be it believed or not, had been quite peacefully slumbering until just then. Surely he jested. Surely even he couldn't be that much of a goddam prick to think she might act merely as his distraction while he filled his pockets. Dare he believe that she was one of his posse content only to flounce about, hips gyrating and lips pursed, to tickle coyly at the fancy of some wealthy twat?
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Askaree's tone is deadpan though the venom that drips from every syllable cannot be disregarded as the amber of her eyes slice towards the scraggly little fellow waltzing beside her. "You want me to be your diversion while you make a collection? That's your big sale?" It was undeniably and unforgivably irksome really, how easily he sought to squander her cunning, her skill, on something so mundane. Something so very cliche. "If it's some nice curves and a good pair of breasts you're wanting to use for your little 'smoke and mirrors' act, why don't you just go ask your girlfriend if you can borrow a trinket from her flesh-buffet?"
With this does she smile, a gruesome and horribly sacchariferous thing it is indeed, before turning upon her heels to depart from the would-be dynamo and his piddly errand. A miniscule and halfhearted sentiment does she proffer up to him as she departs. "Good luck, Frost."
