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

find your rest and be made whole


Posted on September 26, 2015 by isolt griffin
West

isolt griffin


Isolt knows that her friend lingers beyond the bolted iron slab of the door, her presence betrayed to senses that only immortality could have gifted. Senses that had been purchased with her life; senses that had yet to fail her. Yet even though she is aware that Raven lingers there, just out of sight, the smallest blossom of doubt begins to unfurl its gruesome leaves within the loam of her gut. Perhaps her presence would not be as well-received as she had hoped, the distance placed betwixt the two women for the past while possibly deemed unfavorable in the eyes of her canine friend. Perhaps, and the consideration itself is a loathesome and evil thing, Isolt had traversed into Were territory for naught.

It is then, when the infant vampire sways so treacherously upon the precipice of a shameful departure, that the grinding of metal betrays bolts being thrown from their respective cradles and familiar face (but a sliver, mind) peers out from within the room beyond. The unease of the gesture rends Isolt's heart, for she knows this fear. How many times had she herself felt it? And how many times did she feel it still, trailing its iced digits against her own insides? She was no stranger to this particular emotive state, Risque having seen to that even in her absence... some wounds truly ran too deep to heal in their entirety. And so, the smallest simper blossoms readily upon the lips of the redheaded vampire, a proverbial olive branch extended to this, one of a few individuals she considered a true friend. It is comfort for which she aims even as Raven permits her entry into what Isolt can only assume serves as the Werewolf's private quarters.

Careful note is taken of the darkened patches that litter her friend's exposed flesh, the aroma of stagnant blood pooled just beneath the surface a strange thing indeed, hardly as pleasant a fragrance as a vampire normally might have found it to be. The comforting simper wilts upon her lips, some not-insignificant portion of the flame-crowned woman lamenting that she had not been present when these bruises had been made. Raven, Tetradore, and even Tobias did she know as friends, and yet in what had obviously been quite the ordeal... she had not been there to aide them, to protect them. The axiomatic truth that there had been no plausible way for Isolt to have known in advance of the attack perpetrated upon the Nightshade pack does little to quail the shame, the regret, that feeds upon her innards with the ferocity of spilled acid.

Dutifully do her eyes meet those of her companion, a silent moment filling the myriad crevices of the space before she dared speak, her tone barely rising above the hush of a whisper. "That's what I came to find out... if you, all of you, were okay. I heard about what... what had happened and I needed to know that you were alright. Raven, I'm so sorry that I wasn't there... I'm just, I'm so sorry."



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