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

Edge of the Circle

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

Carolina Bedford

i've learned to slam on the brake


Posted on November 05, 2021 by Henry Tudor
West

I will

rise up

in spite of the ache

Whoever invented fishing should have made it a hair more exciting. Casting a string into the water and just sitting there, waiting, for someone to bite down onto a hook was not exactly high thrills. Not to mention, could there not be a little less barbaric a way to catch them than by shoving a sharp hook through their lip? Henry certainly didn't like getting poked by anything sharp so surely it could not be fun for the fish.

And yet...here Henry was, sitting on the edge of the dock, toes dancing with the water as fish came up to investigate. His hand held steady to the rod, his right fingers slowly reeling the line back in only to be able to cast it out again. He had been here for hours, it seemed (probably an hour tops), but he hadn't caught a damn thing. Nothing was biting, not even stealing his fresh worm bait. Fishing was dumb, he was certain.

And yet, Tet had encouraged him to find a hobby. He hated their new home, the yacht bringing up painful memories. He didn't spend a lot of time on it, only to sleep when he could not stand to be awake any longer. Tet had swore a hobby would be good for him, that it would help heal his mind. But the trauma ran deep and Henry wasn't sure if he would ever recover.

Fishing was probably the hundredth hobby he had tried. At first he tried gambling, boating, hunting. He'd even tried sports, shooting at the gun range, and even running. Nothing seemed to catch his attention. Today he was trying fishing. It appeared as though fishing would be quickly knocked off the list as well. He had the patience of a fly, no wonder he was bored as hell.

He felt a shift in wooden planks and hear them creak with the weight of another. He thought that maybe it was someone from the pack heading back to the yacht. He decided not to look. Perhaps if it was someone who meant him harm, then taking him out quick while he was unaware might be for the best. And yet, Henry couldn't deny the instincts that lived deep within him. Ears listened to each step, each creak of the dock boards. There was no way anyone could sneak up on him, no matter how much he might want them to.

Henry Tudor

I will rise a thousands times again


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