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

left, left, left right, left


Posted on December 19, 2014 by Alekai Evero
West
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In all his extend years of life Azrael has truly begun to consider whether or not he has ever met another man he finds so entirely dull-witted and yet continually frustrating. Truly had it not been for the dark haired witch he is still content to tell himself he holds no interest in he was entirely sure he would have done away with this individual already instead of actually attempting to preserve the life of a man seemingly determined to irritate everyone around him until they are all determined to destroy him. Maybe he had been a middle child, the middle child forever seemed starved of attention, this psychological need seeming to spill into whatever adulthood the child before him seemed to claim to cling too. It is perhaps an unfair contradiction to an extent, Azrael himself often given to sarcastic whims, having long ago stopped attempting to see any true goodness within the world. After all, how long can see the worst side of it before you finally lose any hope that others within it may be worth more then the silver of the blade it takes to destroy them? To a certain extent however, the blonde hardly believes more of himself, has stopped trying to perceive any real value within his own existence save for serving the council and attempting to find some purpose to the past eighty ears. Maybe he had cared once, or at least, held some belief he truly was doing what he was supposed to. Eveyln had always convinced him of that, assured him over and over they were on the right path, the loss of her having eventually seen those...doubts begin to seep in once more, the girl breaking the one and only promise she had sworn never to break even though Azrael had been so aware of how entirely foolish such a promise had been.

That was the last time, perhaps, he truly remembered feeling anything other than...angry- at every single part of the world, a world that never seemed to have any answers despite all the years he is seemingly doomed to search it for. Davatnte's comment in regard to dead cow merely earns the man an eye roll of sorts, Azrael hardly willing to engage the fool in any more conversation then was entirely necessary before the interruption of the customer saw his agitation finally directed towards another. How or why this warlock seemed so oblivious to his own instincts the Hunter hardly knew, nor cared, if the world was truly based upon the law of survival of the fittest then this fellow was surely rapidly ploughing his way towards extinction, one the Hunter is content to remain merciful in regards to today, unwilling to a certain extent to offer Davante any true reason to become more then harmlessly irritable within him within a place surrounded by the warlocks natural affinity for earth bound materials, a place already buzzing with an undercurrent of magic the blonde finds displeasing in itself. Davante's words of agreement in regards to the stick were- surprising, one eye lifting slightly in response before the stick suddenly floating saw the Hunter hurriedly shift backwards with evident wariness, magic, in any form, a clearly distasteful thing to the man even despite the barest hint of amusement that seemed to exist somewhere upon his youthful façade at the sight of the stick colliding with the man's head. He proceeded to merely lane back against the shelves once more, a second customer having the sense to exit well before she truly entered, Davante's musings earning the man little more then a snort.

"Then why the hell did he ever hire you to start with?"

He can hardly claim to know the inner workings of the warlocks mind and yet either way he had already (rightly or wrongly) come to the conclusion that Davante was lazy at best, although perhaps the man could hardly be blamed if this was his place of work, the warlock proving easy to agitate, almost as quick to anger as himself in truth and yet for now Azrael hardly chooses to dwell on his own questionable personality- the question posed to him answered bluntly and with the same suddenness that often precludes his inability not to answer direct questions with the truth. Seen the helpful commercials?

"No."

He remains content to simply leave it at that, lips pulling into a thin line of displeasure that forever comes from being questioned in any manner, eyes flicking briefly back to the other man in warning that he was hardly going to tolerate any more before his own attention returns to the series of weapons that adorn the shelves, fingers brushing over the blunt blade in his hands. Had the Council been aware of just how many weapons this store seemed content to stock he is entirely sure it's destruction would be an imminent thing and yet it would seem the existence of such a thing is yet another memo the Hunter will be forced to keep to himself in some effort to preserve the ridiculous creatures life for as long as he remained of any sort of importance to the dark-haired girl.

"I don't believe anyone has any control over him save for his panther boyfriend whom I shot at the party and has probably unfortunately recovered."

In truth he has little to no knowledge of Tobias' sexuality and yet from what he has seen he has almost been convinced that the leopard plays rather well for....both teams, a thought that caused his features to frown, if only momentarily before his attention returned to the knife, fingers brushing against in some sense of curiosity-

"What the hell are you grinning about- shit!"

The finger that had only moments ago brushed against the side of the blade had abruptly begun to blade, the Hunters fingers removed hurriedly from it, his free hand moving to grasp it now, applying enough pressure to hurry along the healing process and stem the flow of blood, his own body's capabilities already rapidly beginning to heal the cut, little more than a thin red line still left as he proceeds to move his hand away the silence that follows an evident...battle of wills, mind rather rapidly considering how quickly the knife would be used to impale the overly chatty warlock before those amber golden eyes drop lower to the weapon in the warlocks hands. From what he could see of it....it hardly looked....appallingly made and yet Azrael's ability to compliment is a truly limited thing, whatever annoyance he had previously felt seeming to dissipate as the barest hint of a simper not entirely pleasant seemed to find it's way upon his features, the hunter tucking the 'blunt' knife into his jacket before strolling easily back across the floor to stand before the other man now.

"You think you know about weapons, Davante? You think you have any idea how to use them? Fine. I'll make you a deal."

One hand simply moved to rest atop the counter, already healed fingers drumming against it almost absentmindedly, gold eyes still held upon the other man from beneath his equally golden locks of hair.

"For one day- you come with me, you do my job with me and maybe you'll learn some fucking respect for it. Let's see if you and your weapons last for 24 hours from now and if they do, I'll spend one day next week living your life, I'll even go to this McDonald's with you and try to drag up some modicum of respect for you and your life's work and you can show me what you waste your life doing in here making weapons I have no belief are actually useful- but prove me wrong. Let's see this inner psychopath you think you have."

One eye merely lifted, the metaphorical gauntlet tossed towards the warlock now, the Hunters eyes lifting upward towards the clock on the wall.

"It's one pm now, that means you have until one am to keep up with me and prove you actually have a use- better pack Dav, it's going to be a fucking long night and your already behind."

A smirk of sorts managed to lace his lips, a chuckle humming somewhere within his chest as he simply moved to pivot in place, heading for the door before pausing beside it, waiting for the warlock to grab whatever weapon he found the most useful, the vibration of his phone already announcing another target within the area. Hmm, maybe Davante would get himself killed and save them both the effort of dealing with his suffocating personality any longer, after all, the thought of Davante trying to teach him how to make weapons was not anything Azrael truly intended to try and suffer through, assured the warlock would hardly survive the night- maybe not even the afternoon.




Alekai Azrael Evero
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