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

glory and gore go hand in hand


Posted on February 28, 2017 by ASKAREE
West

Askaree

Come away, little lamb, come away to the water


The cool metal of the firearm was heavy, firm against the palm of the hand that wielded it; a familiar sensation, though one that was not at all customary for the reptilian wench. Guns were vessels for the timid, the weak, and the fearful to perpertrate the whims of their darker selves; those far too doubtful of their own skill in the art that was combat to risk such close proximity to their adversaries. Guns were for pussies. Pussies like the torn man that now lay motionless before the pair of Weres, forever stilled by his own weaponry and reluctance to engage his caramel-skinned attacker in something far more intimate than firing practice. A lesson taught but never to be learned.

Askaree would have been content (ish) to allow her adversary to go on living minus, of course, one irreversibly-decimated limb and with the addition of a healthy phobia of the water that would, surely, see their paths far less apt to cross in the future. He could have lived. He would have had he not been so fucking stupid. Few are the moments that pass before the young heathen discards the weapon, the spatter of eerily dark lifeblood sprayed about the vessel's otherwise pristine carapace barely able to settle before the Egyptian woman casts the firearm overboard and the heft of her eyes and razor tongue fall upon the leader of this posse. Her attentions, though, soon fall upon her impromptu companion and partner in crime as a single wayward hand falls to her bare waist. Tsk tsk, so typical of a man to assume that a woman's nudity implied she was open for advances, inviting a caress as if she were the goddamn Blarney Stone. However, given the pair's impending victory in the promised acquisition of the luxury vessel and the undeniable and admittedly electric, carnal attraction betwixt them, she was willing to allow him this one caress. Who knew, maybe they could indulge in a heated romp on their boat if the cards fell so favorably. He was quite fuckable, after all.

"Feisty? That's the cutest thing anyone has said to me in a very long while," she cooed, chuckling devilishly as she quirked an alluring brow to the Were king before drawing her gaze towards the returning stooge who heralded their keys. No words does she offer his departing figure, only the hellish smolder of her dark stare. A warning and a promise in but a single, fleeting glare. Another lesson taught.

Falsely-delicate fingers curl about the silver key gifted into her hand as the dark chocolate of her gaze falls, too, to the stilled man sprawled haphazardly against the entrance to the cabin below. Uttering nary a word does she set her affinity to use once more, lifting and discarding the carcass into the ocean below. She was, after all, not the only ravenous carnivore that slithered about within these waters. Mother nature would see to his disposal, as she always had; such a reliable comrade was she. A single hand waves nonchalantly in the direction of the crimson mess her compatriot eyes. "Don't fret over that, I know someone who can take care of it. But first," she nearly sings as she spins to face the carmel-skinned soveriegn, "shall we take her for a spin?" The double entendre is thick, sickly sweet almost, against her lips as they curl once more into that very same, impish grin.

Come away, little lamb,
come away to theslaughter

Replies