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
Of late, the Were-King's world had consisted of an almost continual state of utter exhaustion. The double life he led was nothing short of taxing as Tetradore attempted to placate Risque as much as attempted to have some resemblance of his own life. As a result, sleep had become something of a luxury for the Alpha, it's hold upon him entirely steadfast as he snuggled into the warm depths of his blankets. Tetradore hardly moved as Tobias gingerly shook his shoulder, the sound of his own name equally failing to entice little more than a soft murmur from the sleeping man. Unconsciously, Tetradore drew those blankets further over upwards and over his bare shoulder. Sleep, he'd decided was far more necessary than whatever nonsense that Tobias desired of him. He was oblivious to that shift of weight upon his bed as Tobias climbed on top of him, the Alpha only vaguely shifting with but the slightest disturbance as he snoozed on. The weight of that stare hardly produced a reaction within the man, before that boop of the boy's finger on his nose caused his head to shift to the side, his brows furrowing ever so slightly. The second boop prompted a soft grunt from the man, followed by a third and a fourth. That insistence that zombies were eating his face, however, prompted little more than a grumble from Tetradore. "No....they aren't." He muttered, utterly certain that if there was a zombie, he'd be blissfully dead or already reincarnating....again.
That final boop was hardly enough to stir the man, the silence and stillness that came after it almost reassuring him that Tobias had given up entirely, and thus allowed him that delightful sleep once again. The very last thing he expected was that sudden wetness that ran across his cheek, the very likes of which made him cringe as his brilliant green eyes abruptly opened. He was hardly attentive to that soft knock upon his door so much as the man was aware of Tobias' face pressed up against his, that tongue still somehow glued upon his very cheek. A look of disgust crossed his features as Tobias abruptly sat upwards. His arm shifted, the back of his palm wiping away the wetness on his cheek - or at least attempting to. The sound of Mira's name upon Tobias' lips, however, immediately prompted Tetradore to rise to his elbows as he leaned just enough to the side to glance around the frame of the lanky boy and towards the figure of the woman at his doorway. Somehow, over the past year or so, Tetradore had found himself increasingly...enjoying Mira's presence. Though his affections for her had rarely left the confines of their individual bedrooms, he still found his thoughts lingering upon the woman more often than he knew he should allow them too. Those occasional efforts to push her away often failed and yet, even they were born out of an ever-increasing desire to keep her safe from the death that seemed determined to follow him. Mira, it seemed, was enough to finally prompt some decision to abandon that sleep Tetradore so often found himself desiring.
Nevertheless, Tetradore allowed himself to fall back onto the comforting plushness of his pillow, his gaze momentarily staring at the ceiling as Tobias insisted that Mira was here and that he had promised. Had he promised? What had he -- oh. That's right. The Winter Festival. He'd seen a flyer for it promising drinks and sweets, lights, and a whole list of activities he'd thought Tobias might enjoy. Another soft grunt left the Were-King's lips at Tobias' insistence, and yet, at least he was awake. It was that extension of Tobias' finger, however, that provoked an actual reaction from the Alpha, as he all but shoved Tobias off of him and, haphazardly towards the floor. "Fucking hell, Tobias. Get off me. Go put some fucking clothes on, Jesus." He all but gripped as the Were-King finally sat up in his bed, clearly willing to leave the comfort of his bed behind, albeit begrudgingly. Those blankets pooled around his waist as Tetradore rubbed the sleep from his eyes before his fingers reached up to run through those curly locks. A yawn left his lips and yet, Tetradore was still painfully aware of both that wet cheek and the look on Mira's face as she watched the barely dressed Were-King. "I'm getting up." He protested, tossing the blankets aside with a pointed look - as if to prove he really was. "Give me like....ten minutes?" He insisted, gesturing lightly towards the sofa before stretching out his muscular figure as he stood up from his now unmade bed. "Tobias! I mean real fucking clothes. Long sleeves, damn it!" The Alpha called after the fleeting figure of his Beta, knowing all too well how Tobias might avoid that winter dress if he could get away with it.
aiden tetradore
this is how it feels to be lost