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

me and the devil, walking side by side


Posted on September 03, 2016 by ASKAREE
West

Askaree Bint Bahar


Why, in the name of all things holy, did every last one of Davante's dupes insist on making this their designated drop point? What was the fucking appeal? Probably because the chicken-coop slap fights had transformed this particular locale into a veritable Mecca for the easily entertained and fiscally-irresponsible. Why not make a little money and then piss it away on a never-ending guessing game to surmise which Animorph would get its ass beat the fastest? Too many more of these "business" meetings and the rusted tugboat was going to become a goddamn trading post; Davante may have to purchase stock in this fucking sham-shack.

Perhaps the one and only detail about this dingy vessel that might, might, have acted as a laughably-small saving grace was the admittedly rather well-stocked bar that adorned one far wall. It was the anchor of Askaree's attentions upon the occasions that she was forced to endure the hellish vibrations that rattled her alternate ophidian self in the most unpleasant manner. Or at least it would have been were it any other eve but this one, the bartender on staff this particular night a marked disappointment as he seemed content in ignoring the existance of the vast majority of his would-be patrons. The tanned Egyptian wench had spent the better part of ten minutes (an eternity for someone with patience as finely-sliced as her own) attempting to snag the attentions of the tribal tattooed fuck boy before her own attentions were captured, if only just, by the arrival of someone at her side.

It was rather obvious that the curly-haired woman was an employee or, at the very least, an extremely regular customer with unhindered access to the alcoholic cornucopia that lay just beyond the bar's sloping curvature. But this was neither here nor there as Askaree was not above feigning ignorance in order to bypass the rather cumbersome obstacle that was the willfully inattentive barkeep. "If I would have known that's how it worked around here I could have saved myself quite a bit of time," she muses, perhaps more to herself than the woman who seemed intent to notice everyone and no one that mulled about around her. With that does she rise from her perch atop one careworn barstool to stretch her finely-muscled frame across the equally as weathered bartop to pluck a single bottle of whiskey and a tumbler from the bartender's cache. "Hey," comes the shout of the miraculously (and all of a sudden) observant bartender as he makes to march towards his would-be foe. Askaree gives him naught more than the salute of a choice finger before reclaiming her spot atop the barstool.

Deep brown eyes peruse the crowd gathered about this proverbial watering hole before falling with some notable weight upon the brunette of before. "Do you come here often?" The cliched inquiry passes from her lips in her customarily foreign tongue. It could have been merely a jest; however, if she was to suffer through this festival of testerone and idiocy, than she may as well pilfer from it her own brand of amusement.



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