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

oh please, bring them to their knees


Posted on December 28, 2014 by Alekai Evero
West
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It seemed that no matter the age, the generation, the culture or the country there seemed to exist a continuous breed of people in possession of a single set of defining characteristics that seemed to forever find the capability of setting him on edge. He held little respect perhaps, for whatever skills the warlock seemed to feel he had, very few things in life ever truly given to surprise the often apathetic hunter anymore, then man holding some sense of belief that once you've seen one, you've seen them all- Davante not in possession of any power Azrael has failed to witness wielded at the hands of another he has already disposed of. He is willing to admit, perhaps, the warlock whose company he had begrudgingly found himself within is not the worst earth manipulator he has ever seen and yet it is the mans attitude perhaps that has so set the hunter against him from the beginning. It is an unfair assessment in some regards, Azrael entirely aware of his own hypocrisy in more then one way and yet....he has already lived a lifetime, should have been enjoying retirement- not dealing with the self-righteous, irritating men that seemed to appear every generation with the belief they have all the answers, that they alone require no assistance in life and that they are endlessly humorous. Maybe he was just...old, maybe he was tired- but wasn't he allowed to be? Then again, he is entirely sure he had become bitter well before his time. Maybe he simply had never truly been cut out for this sort of existence despite Eveyln's continued prompting and determination to make him into something useful. He should have died that day, should have been left to do as nature simply intended and maybe he has every right to be at least a bit cynical about it- about life in general. Perhaps when Davante was actually old enough to understand- he would, the blonde man reminding himself for the umpteenth time that he was dealing with a child. One that seemed to believe he was God. It was merely unfortunate that the warlock managed to dodge the loosely flicked light stick, this momentary jab seeming to earn him yet another of Davante's sarcastic quips, a sigh drawn from the hunter's lips.

"Did someone laugh at your jokes once, is this why you seem to believe you are humorous?"

He hardly bothers to wait for an answer, striding down the street once more, already agitated at the other man's inability to move beyond this ambling pace as he simply proceeded to make his way through the crowds, content in the cover humans provided, the mortal beings oblivious to his own aura in this regard, managing to conceal him relatively well without fleeing to the side as so many of supernatural persuasion seemed capable of doing, the blonde eventually making his way to the edge of the dock, gaze falling at last onto the creature he had been hunting for, offering what information was available to his companion whether the warlock thought he needed it or not, let him go in unaware if he so chose to do so, his death would be...unfortunate perhaps and yet Azrael is entirely sure the warlocks tragic and untimely passing would leave him relatively unscathed emotionally. The other man's sudden fascination with the mention of 'bloodhound' saw the golden gaze of the Hunter shift sideways, the contempt in his voice holding evident disdain for either canines or bloodhounds in general, Azrael hardly seeing fit to question him upon it, having no real desire to engage the man in pointless conversation beyond the few scathing words he offered.

Why Davante seemed determined to wander in the wrong direction however, did little more than draw a sigh from the blonde, arms folding across his chest as he simply proceeded to lean back against the stack of fishing crates, waiting for the warlock to display any actual proficiency in this apparent art he believed he had, a look of near boredom adorning his youthful features as he simply...waited. He could easily enough dispatch this target himself and yet a relatively simple mark seemed at least a decent place for the warlock to start his time as an unwilling apprentice...one whom seemed to have taken up holding lengthy conversations with harbour guards. For a moment Azrael merely allowed a frown to mar his features, lips parting to tell the warlock off for the umpteenth time when the movement upon the boat seemed to draw his gaze, ever sharp senses a perk of his existence perhaps, eyes narrowed now upon the dancing figures and the...sinking dog no one else seemed to be aware of. For half a moment, perhaps, the barest hint of curiosity seemed to exist upon the man's ever-youthful features, eyes widening slightly in the briefest displays of surprise. It is an illusion, of that he is sure, one he can see through perhaps only because it is not aimed at him, not unexpected and yet the rest of the harbour continues to remain oblivious.

"Hmm."

This, it seems is all the man is willing to offer by way of potential praise. That the warlocks efforts may have been marginally impressive remain to be seen, Azrael not particularly well versed in offering any sort of....positivity. After all, he had received little to none in his own apprentice days and yet more so simply remains entirely unwilling to offer Davante anything akin to praise as those amber golden eyes narrow once more at the other mans words- shoulder rolled suddenly in a shrug.

"Fine- but don't drown the body next time if you can contain yourself, that now disintegrated fellow actually had an object on him I needed to retrieve. Had I known you were going to leave your mess in the water I would have informed you. It was not a bad effort I suppose, the task was half completed."

The barest hint of what may well have been a simper seemed to momentarily trace the man's lip before he abruptly turned from his companion once more, his lack of praise perhaps entirely unfair and yet Azrael truly has little desire to give it for anything less then a truly astounding effort, Davante's work not wholly displeasing and yet not wholly satisfying either, the blonde already returned to his phone once more, rapidly scanning the list for the next victim upon their list for this afternoon.

"Why do you not merely just snap their necks?"

It is a sudden question, one begrudgingly spoken and yet done so all the same, catching Azrael off guard as perhaps it did Davante, golden eyes drifting slightly sideways at the man beside him with evident expectation of an answer.

"You used five times the magic you needed to perform your illusion when you simply could have made it appear as if he feel and snapped the bones in his neck, bones are mineral, they are earth- why not just do that or are bones somehow out of your elemental reach?"

Surely Davante had considered the mineral content of bone? A natural, earth based substance, although truly why he seems content to inform the warlock of how better to use his own abilities he hardly knows, the first hint of some actual ability to be curious evidently surfacing within the often emotionless man as he simply continued to walk, making no effort to ease his pace, allowing Davante to either walk faster or be left trailing behind as the rounded another corner, travelling now further and further away from the busier areas of the harbour and outwards the endless rows of seemingly more abandoned warehouses that existed like graves beside the docks. He had never liked this area of town and yet the silence within itself further allowed an extension of his own senses, feeling for anything other then the warlock that existed like a continuous blip upon his radar, Azrael moving to assure no part of himself actually touched the man beside him as if Davante truly carried some form of disease.

"There is a club of sorts here that warrants investigation, there isn't much information, some sort of....fae based casino that is supposed to be somewhere in one of these warehouses....oh fucking hell... duck!"

It is perhaps his own supernatural reflexes that allow for that sudden flare within his senses, the approach of one of the very creatures he had only moments ago mentioned seeing one hand reach out to snatch at the warlocks shirt, hauling him backwards and into the wall of the nearest warehouse and clear of the knife that slams into the floor Davante had previously occupied- Fae never were honest creatures, frequently content to attack from behind, this one content to break into some sort of manic giggling before taking off, another throwing knife well within it's grasp and ready for another shot, the winged man hovering several feet above now. It is with something of a sigh that Azrael merely releases Davante's shirt, agitated at his own reaction, why he had bothered to move the damn warlock he hardly knew and yet chose not to question it now, a murmur on his lips.

"Deal with its weapons and I'll bring it down."

He is not entirely foolish enough to admit that the warlocks skill with earth-based materials is entirely un-useful, holding enough trust in the man to actually disarm the flying fairy that had taken to attempting to launch another knife at Davante now as Azrael simply proceeded to race away, that spear of light so easily coaxed into life within his hand now the Hunter appearing suddenly upon the opposite roof, spear launched within near the same moment, piercing through the irritating creatures wing and sending it spiralling to the floor near the warlock as a rather satisfied look seemed to settle upon his features amidst the fairies cursing and promise of death threats- Azrael appearing once more to place his foot heavily upon the other wing and keep the creature down, gesturing now loosely to Davante once more.

"Go on, dazzle me again, find out from it where its little friends are. Use some of your charm."





Alekai Azrael Evero
HTML by Apollymi

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