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

I am a truth-maker


Posted on April 13, 2017 by calliope
West Reopen Thread

It's a blaze of light and heat. Everything smells like blood and the air is heavy with charred flesh and the crack, crack of changing.

In only a moment-- too quick for thunder-- Calliope's universe is torn asunder. Pure electricity burns away her fur and flesh and whittles down her deadly horn to nothing but tender, pale skin. She's swallowed up in a rift.

Down, down, down she tumbles. Down between worlds and galaxies and centuries she goes. She falls between a thousand different dreams and deaths. All at once she's there and not there. Calliope wonders in that odd between being if she has ever been at all.

And then, suddenly, she's not falling at all.

Suddenly there is stone at her back and the smell of rabid magic fades too decay and metal. Only the blood smell remains and some other nameless smell that she has yet to realize is her.

There's a certain fear in her confusion. The skin on her bones is unfamiliar. Where she should be able to see her horn against the moon she can only see a glaring, flickering light that echoes and hums in her veins. She lifts a leg, an arm, a hand (all parts of her she cannot name) and her heart flutters weak and panicked to see not blackness but pale, fragile skin.

Above her the light sparks and fades to the blackness and somehow the shadows are a comfort as she wobbles and sways on legs that cannot quite balance.

She lifts a hand, bloody and torn to wipe away the strange curtain across her eyes. The movement stretches and tugs at a patchwork of black, lighting scars across her back and entire left side. She gasps with the pain of the movement and the light above her head explodes against into weak, unnatural light.

And the girl that is naked and swaying (lost, lost, lost in her own body) whispers in a language she didn't know she knew. "Am I dreaming now?"

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