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

there's beauty in the breakdown


Posted on January 09, 2015 by ISOLT GRIFFIN
West

isolt griffin
Though her heart lay still within the bony confinement of her long-stilled chest, Isolt would swear, later, that she could feel the pull of blood as it coursed through her veins, tugging at lifeless ventricles in a manner that was so very reminiscent of the adrenaline bred of human terror. Of all of the many things death had pilfered from her so readily... blood, sunlight, the frivolity of human happiness... a faultlessly human fear had never been amongst those things she had forfeited. The acidic prickling of fear as it trickled down the curve of her spine would never leave her. It would never wane, and now more than ever does it rouse a phantom chill upon deathly cold flesh. She is deafened to the words of the man who now stands behind her, her attentions solely for the scraping of fingernails upon the slab of the establishment's presumably fortified door.

A somber shaking of Isolt's head is all that she might offer in response to the question he poses, for she knows no more of the identity of the individual that lingers beyond the door than he might claim to. Though it is, admittedly, the redhead's suspicion that the chances it is her pursuer of earlier are perilously great. For who else would continue to rattle the door upon its hinges with such tireless persistence? But a single, rough vibration is all that shivers through the walls of the shop for a time, long enough even that the young crimson-haired girl plucks the notion of their would-be assailant's absence from the miasma of her thoughts, entertaining it as a child might the absence of the proverbial boogie man for a sparse few moments of anticipatory quietude. And then... a raucous outburst that sees a cringe pinch at the delicacy of her brow for the immensity of its resonance as the metal hinges of the door are parted from their cradles, the melded lock bending somewhat with a horrendous and telling squeal.

The forged gap between door and grate is room enough for a single individual to insert themselves therein, the gentleman that emerges from the pooled shadow beyond is as barbaric in appearance as one might have believed: far beyond six feet in height, with piercing grey eyes and arms painted thickly with tattoos as they weave themselves into the gaps of the grate to rest lazily upon the metal. The pungent aroma of vampire does, too, weave its way betwixt the holes of the barrier and into the shop beyond; though even this is secondary, expected, because she recognizes him. Isolt had learned well the faces of those dastardly enough to profess themselves amongst Risque's inner circle, her Maker's trusted lackeys having long ago had their every feature committed to memory. Burned there as some villainous cigar stain upon the innocence of silk, never to be removed... never to be forgotten. In this moment Isolt finds herself perfectly frozen, crystalline eyes never daring to leave his, for no other thing could command her attention as wholly as does his presence in the doorway. "Closing early, are we?" The words are lain thickly with sarcasm, cast into the void that lay desolate between he and them, ivory teeth exposed in an absurdly confident grin as his eyes travel a smooth line from the shop's proprietor to the redhead lingering at the counter. "Hello Red, remember me? It's good to see you looking so... healthy." His body pressed ever so slightly against the forgiving grate, a knowing grin perched slyly upon the hard curve of his lips.


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