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

Edge of the Circle

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

and all these other sides of me


Posted on June 18, 2016 by Rixon Leifsson
West
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God this was a ditheringly stupid creature. Why on earth Tetradore permitted its existence the stallion found he hardly knew. Even it's yapping noise was an irritation, Jackal content to remain defiant in the wake of his impending destruction and yet for now at least the towering war horse hardly found he cared. Heavy, feathered white hooves rung out across the concrete as he strode forward once more, ears pricked forward atop his head in some vague curiosity at the profanities that were now being hurled towards him in Spanish, one of the few languages he did not speak and yet he hardly needed a working knowledge of it to understand the tone with which he was beset. It is easy to circle around the cowering dog once more, Frost content to keep his good eye upon him as he does, the little creature baring it's teeth in defiance once more. It was surely a prerequisite of joining the Nightshade Pack- that one must be willing to die a damn martyr. It hardly had to be this way. No. This was Jackal's own doing, the man having proven rather determined not to answer his questions, even attempting to teleport away from him on several occasions. It is merely unfortunate perhaps that Frost had become aware of his plan, the insight into his mind affording the equine a knowledge of exactly what the canine intended to do mere moments before he could exact it. Teleportation however, required focus and a certain level of control, something Frost saw little need to afford his momentary captive.

It is easy to increase the hold of his power on the man, forcing that chill of ice into the canine's veins, his tiny body shuddering with cold, preventing any attempts at teleportation and yet still Jackal remained determined to stay silent. Frost content to stride around him once more as another string of yips erupted from within his shivering frame.

Come now, your making this decidedly difficult, Little Man, have you reconsidered your answer?

Another string of profanities was all the equine was afforded with, a snort erupting from within as Frost pauses before the canine, violet eyes lingering upon him as they narrow with distinct displeasure. It would be imprudent to have to kill the man, unfortunate really and yet there is little within Frost that is truly forgiving. It is simply within his nature. This is all he knows, the only way he knows, his methods having proven effective time and time again and yet for the first time there is a...hesitation in his actions. A lingering emotion he cannot place. It would displease her to murder the little creature, of that he is sure, frustration etching its way into his form as one heavy hoof slams the cement, cracking it beneath the force. Why her opinions mattered he hardly knew and yet he held some......affection for Nadya, one that eludes him still, confuses him and yet it is her connection that surely spares Jackal a death he surely deserves. It is a twisted way of thinking perhaps and yet, that he will not kill the man if only because of Nadya is a.....sympathy he has never offered before. It is a kindness to his mind to afford even this though surely there are few whom understand even this concession he makes.

I will not ask you again, Jackal.

His frigid tones find the man's mind, sliding smoothly within, eyes narrowing upon the man as he increases the chill within his form until the body before him shakes violently- the little creature upon the brink of a seizure and yet still Frost's hold refuses to relinquish. His form remains calm, almost unnaturally so, gaze simply held upon the shaking canine as his muscles begin to seize, those yips becoming screams before the stallion finally releases his hold, leaving Jackal gasping and shuddering upon the concrete. One ear turns, aware, dimly, of another within the area and yet Frost pays it little heed for now, striding forward to close the distance between himself and the barely conscious canine. Perhaps now the foolish creature would speak. Frost towering over it, Jackal's words little more than a slur that sees Frost tail lash against his flanks, one giant hoof lifted, resting softly against the hind leg of the little canine, pressing ever so gently down. The threat surely clear. It would take but a mere quarter of his weight to crush the limb, to fracture and splinter bone, Frost's patience wearing decidedly thin.

It is a side of himself rarely seen, one controlled on near every occasion and yet there is a certain vein of cruelty to the man, something determinedly violent that has existed since the earliest days of his childhood. Perhaps he is simply what they have made him, perhaps it is hardly his fault and yet his version of morals are decidedly lacking when he should choose them to be. He won't kill the man, no, yet that is more compassion then the stallion has ever truly given, a concession none have ever been afforded yet one that does not exist beyond a near callous desire to hurt him- simply because he can. There is no gentleness now, the man devoid of any emotion, fixated on his task alone and oblivious to the panther that slinks ever closer. In moments such as this, after all, there is little of Frost that....remembers anything else, little in the man that sees any need to control himself. He merely seeks to achieve his goal in the only way he knows how.



Frostbite
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