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 October 01, 2016 by ASKAREE
West

Askaree Bint Bahar


For fuck's sake this was going to prove one hell of a long night if she was to suffer through the blatant inattentiveness of the barkeep and the overall annoyance that was everything to do with this supposed Ark. Had it been entirely her choice, Askaree would have already been through with her business and off at a brisk pace to catapult herself headlong into whatever debauchery the night might have in store for her. Alas here she sat, stolen (and rightfully so) libation in hand, attempting to chat it up with some demure-looking woman who appeared as though she may flee at any given moment, awaiting the arrival of some douche-canoe that was probably ringside salivating over a literal cock fight.

The mischievous weight of Askaree's stare falls back to the curly-haired woman perched upon the barstool at her side, a generally apathetic demeanor and perhaps some notable measure of ADD having diverted her attention even before the idle chatter had fallen from her own lips. A chortle, not enitrely gleeful, tickled away at the Egyptian woman's lips, partly for the answer itself and partly because the shy little imp had not actually answered her admittedly-benign question. "Ah yes, the Kitten King," she purred, proffering herself a generous gulp from the bottle within her hands. "I suppose he's not awful given the whopping two choices in town. Jack Frost, or whatever the fuck he calls himself, didn't appeal to you?" A grin, devilish and unsettling to behold, quirks and presses itself unto her otherwise quite attractive features. The brief encounters upon which she had been unwillingly exposed to My Little Brony had proven amusing and irritating all at once, the mouthy twat having shown himself to be a rather fun target for idle jest and ridicule and also admittedly amusing in the game of verbal jousting.

An expertly manicured brow pitches skyward at the young woman's question. The fuck? Clearly Madame Curl was not oft a patron of the idle banter, and her inexperience was now on display. "I believe I've helped myself to quite enough for the moment," she quips, motioning to the bottle clasped within a single hand. "I'm actually waiting on someone... and then I plan on getting the fuck out of here. How on earth do you stand this constant parade of shameless dupes all the time?"



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