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
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
to live is the rarest thing
Posted on April 21, 2017 by Karou
Does his heart not race?
Does his blood not thrum fretful warnings in his veins and his heart a frantic beat against his ribs?
If he does, he gives no indication. His voice is as loud as shattering glass and the shipping containers reverberate with the noise of his voice. Karou's tongue presses to her teeth and her fingers twitch over the cold metal of her blade as she fights the need to press the blade to his lips. She is savage and she is wild and it is only his following silence that stops her body from following through.
She is desert born and desert raised. She is coarse as sand and hot as fire. Karou does not step to him, but a hiss of breath between her teeth is warning enough as her eyes smolder. "Would you like to attract all supernatural beings to us? If so, I applaud your effort." She scolds him, each word slipping as soft a whisper from her tongue, but landing with the bite of a lash upon skin.
The smile creeps its way across her lips and it is as dangerously sharp as the blade she has holstered at her thigh. "Do you think you will be the first body I have made disappear?" Her lips tip up in a ghost of a smile, her lashes lowering to fan her cheeks. She may seem coy, if the eyes that lifted back to him were not so leonine. "All the king's horses and all the king's men could never find you again." Her rhyming promise is as intimate as a whisper and as playful as a knife dancing across his throat.
The hunter's eyes glitter like black diamonds in the nightlight. Each one is a pool of black, chasm deep. She steps around him, the happy sigh of the blade singing in the night as she unsheathes it. Into his palm she presses its hilt â€" cold metal to hot skin, hard against soft, her skin upon his skin.
Then her hand is away, as if it had never been upon his and only the blade remains, cold, bereft of its owner. "Does that make you feel safer?" She asks him, her lips lifting into the smallest of smiles.
The way to his diner is dark and dingy, a bleak walk through the district's underbelly. Her lamenting sigh is soft as a breeze, her eyes flitting back to him. "Do you have any sense of self-preservation?" Each step that carries her closer to him is silent upon the concrete floor of this metal jungle. "When things get dark and dangerous here, don't keep going." Her warning is soft, almost melancholy as she allows her eyes to linger a moment too long on the line of his jaw and the arch of his cheekbones.
"I hope for your sake that we find your diner soon... Maybe I am hungry after all." And Karou wonders if killing him by her hand would be a kindness for him. Surely better that than the other dangers of Sacrosanct catching up to him?
in one hand she held a crescent-moon blade*