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
Count the bodies like sheep
Posted on August 17, 2014 by Davante Dorian
Competition was first nature to most were's, most men, and most beings in general if we're being honest. Second natured, though, was the need to prove oneself. We all have a desire to prove we are worth whatever it is we are competing for, be that an item, a job, a feeling, attention, or another person. Competition was a phenomenal motivator, acting as a catalyst for even the laziest shitheads who had nothing better to do than take up stone-like residence on their couches, the aroma of wherever their couches were located at laced with marijuana. Granted, that was always good for my wallet, but competition helped motivate even them. Get the better weed? You have to try for it. See the idea I'm getting at, here? Competition was always motivation. For an artist, regardless of their medium, competition could act as muse. I felt like a kid in a candy store, standing there in front of the vast array of weaponry inside of the Devil's Den Armory. Half of me wanted to take after my older sisters and squeal, bounce around a little on the balls of my feet before giddily speeding around to touch every piece of merchandise that carried my fancy. Had I been several years my younger self, I would have been more interested in guns. Since then, I'd learned that guns? They may carry power, but they carried absolutely no finesse. Artistry, be that creating weapons or mutilating bodies (both forms of art I enjoyed dabbling in) decidedly needed finesse. Blood splatter was entertaining, but messy and unorganized. Clearly, I'm control-freak enough to want to control my blood splattering. I almost hadn't realized that the woman had replied to me while my eyes were transfixed on the shelf of throwing knives. Those were fun little mother fuckers. But my personal preference? The shelf beneath the throwing knives and butterflies was a long, antique looking streak of knives. They were beautiful, matching descriptions of weapons I lusted after in dreams I didn't even like talking about. " Here I was, thinking all things natural belonged to the earth and those who were in servitude to it," I said, shrugging a shoulder. I didn't care that she felt the dagger was hers... Honestly, that game had been laid to rest. Especially with the knowledge that knives older, and far more specialized, lay on the shelf behind her. " I told you, I was interested in speaking with your employer, or the owner of the store. He or she has some copy-right infringement going on that I would very much like to admonishing them on said items." davante Aiming to misbehave. |