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 i'm a god


Posted on January 21, 2017 by Iórkæll dværg
West
we stopped checking for monsters under our beds,

when we realized they were inside of us all along.



It is within the crevices of the dark room that he stirs. The shadows seem to embrace his massive form, the world around him silent. There is an aura about him, a dark encampment of death that would be so fitting for such a murderer as he. How restless he had grown, bored with the lack of...entertainment to put for better words. How unbothered he appears to the outside world, sitting there, legs spread comfortably leaning over his axe as his rough thumb strokes the sharp end gently.

He touches it much like a lover would touch their beloved. In a sense, the aged weapon was just that. The countless amount of battles they had been in together enough to draw an attachment to the inanimate object. The blade was a sharp, silver, glinting in the limelight due to good care of her master an interesting choice seeing how silver could kill him. The power he felt from holding his own weakness in his hands... no one could possibly understand. The wooden base stained with the blood of his conquests, years of being handled by bloodied hands leaving a mark.

A shift in the air as numbers are called. The viking lifts his eyes, those piercing blues scanning the room for the first time since he had come in. the area was ripe with fighters, men and women alike making sure to keep their distance from the brooding male in the corner. He is new and although a reputation has yet to be made they can feel the burning sense of power and bloodthirst that lingers in the air around him. Their opinions and views of him did not matter to him, for though his facial expression remained passive his mind within was tainted with a craving that cause a stir of emotions inside him.

It was an addiction really.
But hey, we are all addicted to something.

Large hand begins to idly stroke his beard, a number is called, not his and he watches the crowd practically part like the red sea for a girl so small she might not even reach his belt. Looks can be deceiving. His icy gaze leaves her, attention span far too short to be bothered by the girl that enters the arena. Except, just as his gaze flicks to his axe another number is called; his own. He hesitates, lips twitching with a slight desire that none could understand. A simple "hm..." would slide from his smirking lips as he rises to his feet, a tower of darkness in an already dark place. Axe is tossed from one hand to the other, spun in his hand. The way he handles it makes it appear as if it's a feather when it probably weighs more than his opponent does.

Massive shoulders roll and he is on the move. A lion is his animal and he fits every stereotype of such a thing and then some. Thick body moving with that feline grace he noticed the girl carried as well, but he differs for he carries this sense of utter strength and ruling. Eyes draw upon the king, boots hitting the floor almost heard above the hushed whispers.

This matchup....should be interesting...

He moves into the arena, the crowd's hushed whispers drawing louder into vocal commands and intense roars. They wanted excitement, and he would deliver. His crystals slide to her purple hues, eyes carrying an intensity that the crowd cannot see. He wants her, her blood to add to his collection of stains upon his axe handle, her death to add to his numbers of kills. This was all just a sickening game of his.

The axe rises, eyes upon it as his lips draw to the silver blade. A kiss is placed, the sizzle of damaged flesh filling his ears before he moves it away, as his flesh begins to slowly heal, the viking smiles.

Iórkæll dværg


WereLion -- Male -- Single -- Played By SuniiDii


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