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

I had a dream about a burning house Tetradore


Posted on October 07, 2015 by Elenore Dorian
West



Family is a peculiar thing. There are so many different notions of what family means... the people that love and support you, biological creators, benefactors. All of these different ideas create what we think of as family, and it's a very personal, individual set of beliefs. My family is very unique â€" maybe to the western part of the world, but to me? It's the only thing I've ever known. It's the reason I found myself in a new city, surrounded by creatures and supernatural beings alike in order to eliminate distance from my closest siblings and myself. Davante Dorian and Finley Dorian had made their home inside the boundaries of Sacrosanct and with only minor encouragements from the former did I make my home there, too. I'd only known strength in my siblings; the idea that some siblings didn't get along or even speak was mind boggling to me. There wasn't a day that went by without communication between me and all of my four sisters and my three brothers. I spoke with each and every one every day, regardless of our time differences. See, family is important to me â€" which is how I wound up tending to Davante's shop while he made himself scarce on some other venture in the city.

Typically, my brother wouldn't leave me alone in a shop filled to the brim with weapons that an accident prone woman like myself, might injure herself with. Fascinating and dangerous, the wears of Arsenaal struck me as the best representation of Davante: charismatic, enigmatic, and generally volatile. While I was happy to curiously peruse what he had acquired in the main area of the shop, flitting about from case to case â€" I couldn't get shy away from the growing curiosity that I felt regarding his projects in the back of the shop. Ever the innovator and artist, he'd left some of his metal work on the workspace where it was clear he spent most of his time. Organized yet somehow haphazard, the space was a good representation of my brother too. Did he leave his mark on everything he touched? That's a silly question; the answer would always be yes. While I could lose time in the dark work room, it occurred to me that I was supposed to be keeping an eye out for a shipment; the shipment was the entire reason I was holding down the fort in the first place.

Instead of tinkering with knives and phenomenal metal work, I quietly slipped from the backroom and began to head towards the back door where Davante told me the shipment would come from. He'd offered a mild warning, reminding me that whoever was dropping them off wasn't a placid, easy creature. He offered no other description, leaving me generally leery of the individual who I might come into contact with any minute. Why should I worry? Would he really leave me in any kind of danger (no, never intentionally)? With that thought in mind, I grabbed the sandwich I'd made earlier and plopped down gracelessly on a box that was left outside the back door to amuse Tobias, the were-leopard who frequented my brother's shop. Entirely engrossed in munching on my sandwich, I was unaware of the shadow of the person who could only be delivering what my brother was awaiting.

Oops.







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