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

[Tobi / Matteo] i'm sending a raven, black bird in the sky


Posted on September 11, 2018 by AIDEN TETRADORE
West

The rise and fall of the King's chest was hardly discernable as his body was discarded upon the velveteen sofa of her office. He was vaguely aware of the soft material as it brushed against his cheek and yet, his emerald eyes stared with an almost blank look at the wall opposite of him. Her venom ran rampant through his veins, the very potency only furthered the realism of those hallucinations that afflicted him - his vision was bathed in flames, coated in blood, and filled with death. For several long moments, he simply laid there until the petite frame of the female panther crept tentatively towards him. The very touch of her tongue caused him to flinch as he blinked several times as if trying to focus on that singular sensation he was certain had to be real. It was...wasn't it? His eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly and yet, the man offered the feline little more than a grunt as she nudged him with her head. It was far too tempting to just...stay there. He was tired. So tired. It was the sudden wetness of her tongue upon his cheek that finally prompted movement from the Were-King. Slowly, he dragged himself upward into a sitting position, his head rolled back against the back of the sofa, staring at the ceiling and the hellish creatures only he could see.

It was the singular thought of home that punctuated his thoughts, prompting Tetradore to sluggishly push himself off of the sofa. His hand reached out, fully intending to press against the wall for support. That sudden searing sensation of pain brought the world into sharp clarity for one fleeting moment as Tetradore abruptly pulled his hand away from the silver door of Risque's office. "Shit." He murmured as he clutched his injured hand, his shoulder falling hard against the other side of the door frame, the cotton of his shirt his only saving grace. He was vaguely aware of the feline brushing against his leg, leading him as he stumbled down the hallway. The very walls of that dance club seemed to bleed within his all too tainted gaze. Every brush of his hand, of his shoulder or arm against those walls, only further seemed to stain his flesh, even if the actuality of his staggering retreat was far more mundane. The hallway seemed painfully long before the panther abruptly halted in front of a door. He reached out with his uninjured arm, pressing against the release bar only to find his body lacking the strength for even this. For several moments, Tetradore merely leaned against the metal door, his forehead pressed against the cold black paint. The soft whimper at his side caused his emerald eyes to flutter open before Tetradore used the weight of his body to swing the door open, leaving his figure embraced by the cold evening air and the promise of dusk on the horizon.

Each movement felt like it took more effort then he remembered. The soles of his shoes scuffed against the cement as the once proud Alpha followed that pathway back towards his own Kingdom. The female panther remained his constant shadow, drifting in and out of visibility as she skiddishly trailed behind him, correcting his course anytime those hallucinations so strove to coax him away from the pathway. He'd nearly tripped into her several times, his movements hardly as coordinated as they had been mere hours ago. How far home now felt! What had once been a short walk now seemed liked miles. By the time the Ark's hulking form appeared in that labyrinth of warehouses and shipping containers, his figure was wet with sweat. His skin felt unusually cold, goosebumps crawling across his flesh as a shudder wracked his frame. What had once been a world of fire seemed to now be a tundra of ice, that phantasmal world shaping and changing with each tiny outside influence. His feet felt heavy in the snow as he trudged past the frozen figures he had taken under his wing - Alexis...Raven...Mira. "It's not Winter yet." He muttered to himself, grasping onto that singular fact that he knew to be true, anything to keep him grounded in reality, anything to keep him moving forward.

He was thankful for the late hour by the time the Alpha stumbled into the hull of the Ark. Its hull was deathly silent, eerily so compared to the usual cacophony of sounds that filled the metal ship during those business hours. It was...empty, wasn't it? Or was this too yet another by-product of her venom? His head shook ever so slightly as if the gesture might free him from its grasp, only to find himself increasingly dizzy. Was the world spinning or was that just him? The Were-King tripped on the stairs, that sheer willpower alone was the only driving force in pushing his beaten body back up, even at the risk of reopening that wound on his forearm. His hand trailed against the wall as he moved sluggishly down the corridor that smelled of his pack, even though the sounds that came from the other side was anything but. It took practice, to distance himself from those very sounds and visions that so afflicted him, practice that he'd had his fair share of. It had been a great many years, however, since she had dosed him so potently. The double doors of his own bedroom were a welcomed sight. His movements were slow and quiet as he reached for the door, stepping into the sanctuary of his own bedroom. Tetradore got only so far as closing his bedroom door behind him, pressing his back against the wood of one of the doors before his body gave up on him.

Slowly, he slid down towards the carpet. His breath was soft and shallow as he sat on the floor. His neck was black and blue from where Risque's hand had so tightly grasped him, choking him of all air till he drifted on the edge of consciousness. His shoulder was riddled with marks from her teeth. She had bitten him over and over again, her venom taking hold long before the sensation of her four fangs piercing his flesh stopped. The bite mark upon his arm from her panther slave had started bleeding again and yet, he was hardly aware enough of the world around him to care, regardless of how deep her teeth had sunk. His hands were burned from silver - the very same burn marks that crafted a trail from his jawline around those bite marks on his shoulder from her talon-like nail. Those once bright emerald eyes seemed dull now, as he stared at the window behind his desk, simply watching the water that poured in, soaking the carpet of his bedroom. The Ark was sinking and he was sinking with it...no...that was impossible...wasn't it? That line between reality and hallucination was far too blurred anymore for him to make sense of what he was seeing but at the very least...he was home.
aiden tetradore

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