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.
Black Market
Cull & Pistol
Noah's Ark
Syn
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.
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
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
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
I'm about to make my own way, heaven help me keep my faith Kathryn had always been surefooted and light on her feet, as if she had had invisible wings attached to her. Though, in a way, she did. While all her powers had been attempted to be snuffed out, control over air had not been so easily convinced to hide away within her. Of course, she wasn't knowledgable of that fact that she had powers, so she could not use them directly. And so it had started to leak out subtly in other ways. Especially when she would cheer. Kathryn had always been the child running around and attempting tumbling moves, so her grandparents had decided to put her onto a cheer team, so that at least she may do all those reckless moves under the safety of a coach. What they did not account for, was their granddaughter excelling due to her air wielding abilities. The kid never fell in move, not once, not even when it seemed impossible that she would land on her feet, or stay standing tall as the flyer. But the air was always on her side, ready to catch her if she should fall. Her grandparents knew why she had such grace and poise, and they begged to any gods real or not that no one else questioned their granddaughter's nearly...supernatural skill. The young witch rolls her eyes at the vampire (it seem to be becoming a common occurrence when it came to spending time with Damon). Her own expression of mock disdain crosses her features. "Oh, and I am terribly hurt by the news. Does that mean I cant come for Thanksgiving and Christmas?" She asks in sorrowful voice, though a smirk slithers onto her face with the obvious jest towards him. Despite the irritation and entirely differentiating view on morals, Kathryn could not quite bring herself to hate Damon, even if she was doing everything in her power to do so. There was something about him, perhaps his personality, maybe his protective instincts towards his family. Kathryn would not dive too deep into he subject. After all, she wasn't supposed to care or even like someone who was like this, right? Dark chocolate tresses fall from behind her ears to compliment the delicate curve of her young face. She turns those silver blue eyes to Damon, they are now chilled with a glacial coldness as Damon seems insistent on killing the warlock. "You're right," she mutters, reluctant to let the already arrogant bloodsucker's head grow another inch larger in size. "But we still cant kill him, it isn't right, Damon," she says, the notes of pleading in her voice. "There has to be another way," she says, there is a fiery determination in her voice, her strong morals ever taking over her thought process. Powers. She had though magical powers (whether they belonged to witches or vampires) were only in movies and comic books. But Kathryn had some, and apparently so did Damon. The vampire explains his power to the young witch, who watches him curiously, she had only just learned that powers were real (among other things) and like a toddler she wanted to know as much as she could. Though, she realizes halfway through his sentence that he is about to perform a demonstration, however unwilling his participant may be in such a performance. Kathryn wants to turn her face away, to close those icy blue eyes, but it is like an impending car crash, she has to watch the misery towards the warlock unfold, she cannot stop watching, no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how much his cries of pain made her heart pain. Regardless of the man's evil intentions, Kathryn was never very good at handling the pain of another. Far too sympathetic for her own good. She lowers her head whether in sympathy or shame is not entirely clear, her dark chocolate tresses falling forward as she does so before she returns that icy gaze back to the vampire, dark brunette hair now framing her face, only amplifying the brightness of her eyes. "How.." she starts to ask before she shakes her head slightly. "I don't want to know, I think I have had enough for one day," she says and indeed she had had about all the knew discoveries she really could handle for one evening, honestly, it could have ended with just 'being a witch' and 'meeting a vampire,' really and Kathryn would have been plenty okay with that news. "I don't know, either, Damon," she says, and while her voice is strong, it is not hostile towards the vampire as it had been before. Icy blues blink beneath long lashes once in thoughtfulness. The typical headstrong witch suddenly at lose for words, wondering where her memories may have gone. Silence lingers between the two, until Kathryn realizes exactly what Damon has just offered her and the witch immediately shakes her head. "You know, I think I may pass on you ruffling through my mind, call me crazy," she says. For a moment it is tough to tell whether her words are sarcastic or not. Icy blue eyes dagger into the man, this warlock was getting on her last nerve. "You are crazy, like, certifiably insane," she says almost flat tone. "You know, we could take you to get some help, or something," she says, eyeing the man warily. He was certainly not right in the head, that was for certain. "A memory wipe?" She questions the vampire, this was an entirely new territory for the witch. So not only could Damon inflict pain and injuries with his mind, and Kathryn could apparently do something with air, but Damon could wipe out someone's memory too. Oh boy, really, what had she gotten herself into? "I don't know how to do that," she says, looking at him sideways through her long, chocolate tresses laying down her shoulder. Her voice is barely above a soft whisper, not wanting the warlock to hear and obtain any of Kathryn's weaknesses. Icy gaze looks from the warlock to Damon once more. "I will do whatever it takes, but you have to show me how." |