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
THEY SAY IM A GOD
Posted on May 05, 2017 by IÓRKÆLL DVÆRG
He had let the boy get too close to him, the dance of war his own and yet here he was, a gash along his inked up shoulder. A snarl rips from that scarred face, clear eyes flashing dangerously as animal takes over and human disappears behind the voices that scream in his mind. Blood oozes from his ears from the effort it takes to hold control. The rules are not to kill, yet where was the fun in that? The other was smaller than the viking, faster, his dagger moving almost too swiftly for the male to keep up.
Almost.
His massive hand rises, grasping the wrist of the hand wielding the dagger as it comes at him again. He twists, earning a short, squeal to fall from the boy's lips. The others think he has broken his arm, but there was dark magic at work here. The blood inside the boy is moving at the viking king's will, twisting and clotting where his hand is grasping. The other's arm has grown sickly pale, the blood clots showing in bruises forming from the inside out. Upon the gruesome face of the bearded man a smile forms, lips twisting into a sadistic satisfaction as the other drops to his knees, screaming his submission for all to hear.
Reluctantly, the viking releases, ignoring the inner wails of the demons in his mind. He breathes, watching the other hold his arm as he practically crawls out of the ring. The adrenaline and craze has begun to leave the viking, and he blinks, hand raising to run through his hair. He bends, using his good arm to grasp his silver tipped axe. His shoulder wound will heal soon, the pain practically numb to him as years of such a thing only excite him now. The onlookers have dispersed, anticipation for the next fight already brewing in the air. And iorkael needed water. He stumbles from the ring, turning to avoid the wary audience only to feel his body meet a slimmer one. Instincts take over and he spins, avoiding a full on collision with the girl and her stock.
The viking pauses, brow arching as he glances over her and her wares until a short chortle is released. "a witch." he smirks, adjusting his grip on his axe and rolling that injured shoulder gently. The creak in his tiring bones enough to burden him these days, like he was made of metal and he needed oil to help his joints survive. "you help many cheat their way to a win in these rings." his low baritones are growled out into a disapproving remark. "I pity those that rely on your help."
Who was he to talk though? His own horde relied on the aide of a witch.
Replies
- do not waver; the dark approaches - By sorcha on May 05, 2017 at 6:16 PM
- THEY SAY IM A GOD - By IÓRKÆLL DVÆRG on May 19, 2017 at 9:43 AM
- do not falter; the darkness approaches - By sorcha on May 24, 2017 at 6:43 PM