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
quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it? There are things that Regan is, and things that she is not. But, it not quite as simple as all that. She lingers in a realm where shades of grey are varied, and nothing is ever black or white. This makes her a very dangerous creature indeed. Because you see, she can be this one day, and the next, be something else entirely. It makes her unpredictable. Dangerous. Regan moves through the shadows as if she were born to them. A lone, solitary figure shrouded in darkness and silence. A true predator. Her senses are on high alert. This is a new place and she can smell the presence of other Were's. This both angers and intrigues her, for Regan is a loner by nature as well as by necessity. She has the scars...both physical and mental in nature to prove it. A gust of wind, brought up from the docks, brings with it the scent of blood and destruction. Of death and all that it entails. A feral smile pulls at the corners of the girls mouth. A grisly grin in her feline form. She has always loved herself a good bloodbath. Her direction changes and her pace quickens. Regan manages to catch the tail end of a very bloody battle. She watches as a wolf, caught and ravaged by the cruel jokes of men, finally succumbs under the weight of her struggles. They got what they deserved for her torment. The onyx girl ventures forward, watching silently, inquisitively as the wolf-girl attempts to escape. Only she manages to ensnare herself further. A silent chuckle reverberates in her throat, though it seems pity is the dominant emotion that drifts across her mind. Funny. Regan has never pitied anything before. Perhaps it is the struggle, the fear laden eyes looking desperately in her direction. The way the girl lays prone...a position no predator should ever have to find itself in. She chuffs, silently at the girl. Wondering what exactly to make of the scarred creature between her paws. A chill makes its way down Regan's spine. A sense of something 'other' approaching. She lifts her gaze slowly, a warning snarl silent on her lips. She is the true embodiment of a silent predator -- standing there bathed in darkness and blood. She takes a step forward. Placing herself between him and the wolf-girl beneath her. Her tail flicks once in irritation. She can sense his power even from here. An alpha it would seem. Ugh. Just her luck. They always bring trouble with them... She takes that last step forward, the prone figure now lying directly beneath her. Regan feels a prickling just under her skin, a secondary warning. Her tail lashes back and forth with barely disguised irritation now. She has never done well in crowds, and this was certainly shaping up to be more trouble then she bargained for. Her amethyst eyes shift from the black panther with the piercing emerald gaze, to the tawny figure approaching behind him. A male leopard with a ready made snarl. She huffs. She'd roll her eyes at him if she could. Useless males and all their posturing. Regan takes care to note the look of recognition in both sets of male eyes. They know this girl beneath her...and yet...they sit there and do nothing? Ugh. With a resigned feline sigh, Regan sends the pair a look of warning. Deadly and final. The sort of look that says, keep your asses where they are...or else. Slowly at first, and then faster, the ebony of her fur begins to shimmer, fading and pulling back to reveal scarred flesh beneath. The sickening sound of bones crunching, and the echo of magic, until finally a small girl, woman, stands before them. Naked but for her long hair and scars. Her gaze, ever so much the same lingers on them for a moment longer before she turns and kneels at the side of the wolf-girl. Regan eyes are cold. Calculating. They offer no sense of compassion, or appear to be of mind to ease the girls worry. Her hands raise from her lap slowly, methodically. Her lips pulling back over her human teeth, a silent warning to remain still. Regan takes a moment to center herself, drawing on her Chi to quicken her fingers and aid in their dexterity. Then, she sets about to removing the hooks and pieces of net from the ensnared creature. It takes a few moments, though not nearly as long as one might think. When the final hook it removed, Regan stands and takes a few steps back. Making sure to give the wolf plenty of room. She pays no mind to her nakedness. Cares little for the showing of her multitude of scars, though her long hair hides most of her indecency. Her eyes wander over the trio, flickering over and over again to the same set of emerald eyes. Well, what now alpha? In the back of her mind, Regan knows she has intruded on his territory -- though truthfully she cares little. She is torn. She wants to simply turn around and fade into the darkness as she is so accustomed, but something tells her, it wont be so easy this time. that's what it is to be a slave |