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

they say its greener on the other side


Posted on August 29, 2016 by Rixon Leifsson
West
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He is barely aware of the day, let alone the time, his limbs entirely sluggish- refusing to obey him with any true grace as his form struggles to even remain standing. Whether it is blood loss or the sedation that still courses so thickly through his system he hardly knows, a combination of both perhaps. His will power is pressed to the utter limits of what he was capable of summoning in this moment, the snowy-haired man bringing himself as close to the Ark as he dares before, at last, allowing himself to sink to the ground. It takes several moments still for his breathing the settle, bloodied head leaning back against the abandoned warehouse behind him. The world was spinning, exhaustion pressing upon him from every angle- helped along, surely, by the drugs that had so been designed to keep him down. His powers barely worked, his limbs barely obeyed, he could barely keep himself awake and yet what little of his affinity he could call to himself was perhaps just enough to keep himself alive. He could not force his exhausted form to shift and yet his equine frame would hardly have provided him with any relief regardless. He needed to heal- and he was, but slowly, far to slowly- whatever he had been given slowing even that. If he could not heal he could not reach his powers and without them he was at the veritable mercy of anyone and anything. This a weakness he loathed. His own home was to far, the stallion merely having gone to the only being he could, in this haze of thought, consider trustworthy enough to be trusted with healing him.

How to get Nadya to come to him though- was an entirely different matter. He is not nearly so foolish, nor so desperate, as to go to the Ark itself. Tetradore would hardly welcome him and within this state he expected little mercy from the man- why should he? He would have afforded the panther no help were their roles reversed. He has seen war, he has survived injury before and he would survive again- he merely needed a little assistance. Even if the woman might not agree, for whatever reason, to heal him so entirely he needed only enough of her power to allow him to access his own and in turn- afford him the ability to transfer his wounds to some other poor fool while his own natural healing worked upon those more minor afflictions. He groan he is entirely unable to prevent rises within his throat. If there was but one positive to sedation it was, most assuredly, the manner in which it took away pain. His lacerated chest beginning to ache and burn and scream all at once. He needs to drop his command of Will to allow what little strength he has to focus on bringing the woman to him and yet he is loath to let it ebb- Frost entirely aware he was alive only now because he simply refused to die. The Hunter too, perhaps having failed to account for just how determined the stallion could be when it came to refusing to do as was command of him.

He forces another breath into his lungs, steeling himself for what he was already assured needed to be done, releasing his hold on his will power to grasp those fine tendrils of his illusionary magic, casting it as far as he could and towards the ship within the harbour. Whether or not his summons would work he hardly knew, Frost incapable of finding the woman's mind here and now- a mind he would know anywhere and yet one concealed from his this afternoon. The seconds drag into minutes, the bloodied man already considering the prospect that he may well have to spend the night here in the hopes that whatever was so within his system would wear off as the night wore on.
He would survive, he was assured of that- yet it would be by the skin of his teeth alone. Edie...if only his phone had the power to call her, the pack bond so numb the woman would surely be incapable of finding him. He would murder that Hunter when he got the chance. This was far from over. The sudden sound of another sees his head turn, a panther lingering within the alleyway before him, the scent alone assuring him that this was not Tetradore drawn by the blood of dying prey- but the very being he had called- something within his chest almost.....warming at the sight of her. He shifts as much as he can, his own movement seeing her turn, the biting word that finds his mind almost entirely ignored as a simper finds his features even despite himself.

"Naja."

He manages the word with notable struggle, his voice sounding far more ragged then even he intended it, another breath forced into his lungs.

"Perhaps you can....berate me for summoning you.....later. As it is I.....need your....assistance."

She would surely have smelled the blood by now, each step the panther took towards him affording her a better view of his form. His lacerated chest was entirely visible- the man having lost his shirt somewhere within that hell-hole, his normally snowy hair a tangle of bloodied locks from the wounds somewhere upon his skull, the rest of his body a canvas of bruises and burns and broken, bloodied skin.

"I finally met someone....who disliked me. Imagine....that."

If he was going to die at least he might die in the company of one of the few beings he truly liked.


Frostbite
HTML by Apollymi

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