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

they want to make me their queen


Posted on February 15, 2016 by ASKAREE
West

Askaree Bint Bahar


He may have been operating under the delusion that he would surprise her with the nonchalance of his reaction, that she might shudder beneath the brush of his fingertips against her bare flesh like some rosy little virgin on the night of her prom. No such luck, babe. However, being the voraciously physical being that she was, Askaree found no shortage of vaguely-erotic pleasure in the cool caress of his fingers upon her heated flesh and the purr of her own name as it tickled her wanting ears. Had the scenario varied from the chaotic reality that swathed them, she might have imagined his hands traveling elsewhere; however, she was on a self-made mission and thusly she found herself determined to keep it in her pants.

For now.

"Ooh," she purred, boots clicking upon the scuffed lacquer of the wooden planking as she's forced forward, "be careful, Spencer... I like it rough." The words are accented with a lascivious snarl and a darkly titillating glance cast towards him before she allows herself to be ushered in the direction of the weathered bar. Of course he would pick the least of all the options presented. Fucking pretentious prick. Expertly does she gesture to the tattooed bartender, her demeanor ironclad before she leans in once more so that only Spencer may hear the words that seep from her pouty lips as candied venom. "But if you push me again, I'll take your other leg." Her tone is even, as smooth as poisoned honey and just as sickly sweet. A taunting wink is all the punctuation that exists to her statment before Askaree turns to the approaching bartender, an intricate glass of the alluring green liquid set down before Spencer. The dark-haired man had never breathed a word of his disability to her and yet she had sensed it as any predator might sense the weaknesses of their prey; diligent had she been to the manner in which he favored one appendage over the other, the subtle sway in his walk that betrayed some manner of malformation.

"Bottoms up," she commanded, a single digit sliding the glass further towards her companion as a devil's simper split across her chiseled features. Tempting though it certainly was she forbade herself to partake in the alcoholic festivities of the evening until such a time as the urge become too onerous a battle to wage against her own demonic addiction (as it inevitably would and always did). "Drink that and then I want to see your moves, either on the dance floor... or over in the pit. Show me you're not as boring as you seem..."



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