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

now my neck is open wide


Posted on May 16, 2016 by ASKAREE
West

Askaree Bint Bahar


It was, indeed, supremely idiotic to suggest that these two individuals had trudged the paths of physically, culturally, and ethically different lives. That they had been molded, rolled between the wisened, aged hands of vastly different artisans. Yeah, no fucking shit. Spencer appeared to be one of those pretentious twats raised with his lips pursed around the metallic cove of a silver spoon, believing without even the whisper of a doubt that the sun shined its glorious rays out of his admittedly quite-attractive ass. The repulsed manner in which his eyes perused the scene of this charming little dive spoke of his presumed superiority, his compulsory need to place himself apart from everything and everyone that was this place. Askaree, however, had risen from her poisonous little pod as any obstinate weed would. She had battled and bartered through life's many obstacles to rise as this radiant, barbed blossom.

The Egyptian changling might have vaguely and privately admitted herself a tiddly tad bit surprised that her companion followed in her stead had she been of such conceding character. A simper, nearly barbaric in the darkness it harbored, spread against her lips as the rhythm of his uneven cadence rose from beneath the screams of the mob and the music. Ah, so sweet Spencer wasn't entirely as amped to leave as he would have her believe. Or, if he was, he was too much of a goddamned pansy to just up and leave of his own accord. As the consideration tickled the folds of her scrupulous brain, Askaree hoped in the most sincere way that it was not the latter... because, truly, she did not think she could stomach attempting to seduce someone so dreadfully lily-livered. As entertaining as it most certainly was to screw with him, trying to fuck him would be way less fun if he was a puss. Where's the fun in that?

No surprise registers upon her exotic, sculpted features as his hands claim her hips, the distance betwixt them diminishing rather rapidly... so much so that the remnants of his cologne curl and tease against her olfactory. His comment, however, rouses a reaction perhaps in the manner that he had anticipated; a perfectly-manicured brow pitching skyward before the bulbs of her faux-delicate fingertips ease unto his hands. "Nope," she states simply, flatly, before leaning in as he had done, the gleaming apple of her cheek barely brushing against the chiseled line of his jaw. "Not until you stop being a little bitch and show me your moves, Spencer." His moniker comes as a purr, a seductive lilt upon the edge of a venomous tongue. The curves of her hips sway beneath his hands, her shoulders and neck rolling a bit with the waves of the music that holds them, sending a waterfall of ebony silk splashing over a bare and bronzed shoulder. Askaree eyes him darkly, an enigmatic and suggestively foreboding glance that gives very little away. A look, it seems, that leaves so desparatey little room for his disobedience.



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