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
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
Don't fret precious, I'm here
Posted on September 11, 2015 by Davante Dorian
The devil has my ear today.
Are all roses worth the thorns they grow so effortlessly close to the bud itself? The thorns are to guard the rose they reside near. But perhaps it's the rose guarding the thorns. They're rendered dangerous and incompatible in direct relation to the beautiful, flourishing flower that rises and towers above them. In all reality, perhaps it truly is the rose that guards the thorns. Sharp, long, and painful to the touch, thorns are strewn haphazardly all over the step of the beautiful flower; the flower takes all attention away from the thorns, and they're left alone.
Initially, I'd begun to believe that the attack on the Witchery might be our rose. The rest of the witches need no attention, as a beautiful bud was plucked from its thorny stem. I doubt any of the other witches would think the metaphor fitting or even complimentary but I preferred to sit directly below the rose. There, I could watch the rose be cut away from the stem, and have every idea of how to prevent blooming into another bud myself or how to encourage someone else to take the limelight. They call us underachievers when in actuality I believe we are the ones who achieve the most because we don't get called out.
Usually.
"Did your father hit your mother after she spoke like that to him? Because clearly, you learned insolence and arrogance somewhere."
Gone was the discomfort lingering in my emotional conscience. Irritability seethed through my pores, pouring over my skin like a liquid veil, quenching any drought of my characteristic petulance. Rowena â€" acutely beautiful and transfixing â€" blurred for only the briefest of moments before an ethereal figure lingered close to the witch. Pride was distinctly familiar especially in how he moved with effortless arrogance, much like the witch nearest him. He held a cast iron gaze, sweeping her figure with his translucent eyes before settling comfortably in the chair beside her. How fitting â€" a smirk found its way over my lips as I offered the Vice my attention instead of the woman effusing such prideful nature that it called on the Vice. And when her deliberately admonishing words ceased, my arms crossed over my chest with an elbow resting in the crook of my other to allow me to take a long drag from my cigar. The exhale was slow and increasindly deliberate, as if I was ridding myself of the sour taste she'd left in my mouth.
"Allow me to remind you, Rowena," I heard myself say slowly. "That you didn't need to come here. I didn't demand your presence, and if you feel so strongly against cooperation between our kind then by all means sweetheart. Leave." The doors of the store room swept open in a grand gesture while Pride's lips twisted into a wicked smile â€" insinuating that he, too, approved of the gesture. He stood, crossing his arms as he watched Rowena for her impending commentary. And before I could stop myself, my palm actually found it's way to my forehead.
"You are absolutely, entirely impossible, woman." With a sigh, I extinguished my cigar before lifting what was a heavy gaze to rest on her. "I want to form a coven."
I'm here.