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

your love lifts me up like helium


Posted on May 14, 2018 by isolt griffin
West

isolt griffin

I'm more alive than I've ever been


He is there, kneeling before her as she falls, in an impossibly swift moment as her bare knees plunge into the basin of viscera that swirls beneath them... his presence hardly to be believed by her desparately careening mind even as his embrace consumes her worn and weary body. It is a dire cruelty of circumstance that here, now, when finally does she have him close that her critically weakened frame fails her and she can do naught but coil a few trembling digits into the blood-soaked cloth of his shirt. It is poor recompense for the vigor of the embrace he offers her, the undead queen capable of little more than pressing her mangled face into the broad plan of her lover's chest, her eyes clenched so tightly shut that the gesture heralds a throbbing pain that ripples across the bloodied scape of her face.

Isolt seeks so desparately the contraction of the reality that spins in a dizzying and macabre festival about her, yearns to cleave away everything and everyone save for him. Almost entirely does she ignore the man who has risked so very much in his mission to aide her, her debilitated mind failing to find a place for him in this moment. There existed only enough room, enough energy, within her for Isolt to focus upon the words of her lover as he whispers them to her, her eyes remaining clenched tightly closed even as his hands caress her with a gentleness that had become so very foreign to her. The intimacy of physical touch had, of late, been employed only to manipulate and abuse her, to press and pull heavily upon her instead of lifting her as Damon does. A moan, somber and low, echoes within the vampire queen's chest as her body screams, repulsed by the contortion of her atrophied muscles. Her eyes remain closed to the world beyond her, her focus solely for the man within whose arms she rests.

Only when the night's cool zephyr whispers its invisible silk against her battered flesh does Isolt shift her head from its place upon the solid plane of Damon's chest, crystalline blue eyes unveiling themselves to the midnight sky. The pale crescent of the moon beams overhead, its grin broad and omnipotent, welcoming the redhead's return to the world from which she had been taken. Never would Isolt have dreamed that she would come to miss that chesire grin, though as Damon lowers her into the leather cradle of the car's seat do crimson tears further tarnish an already heavily-mutilated facade. And as they drive away, fleeing what very well could have proven to be her tomb, Isolt allows the anguish, the terror, and the relief to wash over her.

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