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.

Noah's Ark

Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark appears to be little more than an abandoned cargo ship. 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
Manager Raven 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
Vampires Cobain Dalca
Cats Aiden Tetradore
Cats Harlequin Westward

Cobain :: the sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead


Posted on October 11, 2018 by AIDEN TETRADORE
West

aiden tetradore

He abhorred that call that tugged at his mind and body, forcing him to abandon the life he'd built for himself to satisfy the very whims of a woman he'd once thought himself free from. Each evening he returned to the depths of Syn was yet another one in which the Were-King so feared he might not be allowed to leave. Re-adjusting to that life of solitary misery had taken a far greater toll upon his soul than he had anticipated. In her absence, the once apathetic man had blossomed into the very Alpha he was so meant to be. Where he had once established a perfect facade of indifference, now he held the weight of his pack upon his very shoulders. Those relationships he'd fostered had weakened him, softening that once hardened exterior to produce an empathy he'd once been able to separate himself from so flawlessly. Tetradore was hardly oblivious the very glee she took from this swift realization that things had changed. That fight within him had grown all the more intense and, in turn, so too had her demands. Risque had always delighted in pushing him to the very brink, in breaking him down an shattering everything that made him human only to twist him in some warped fashion into the monstrosity she sought for him to become.

He was certain, as he stared down at his hands, that he could still see blood under his nails. The man he'd killed tonight for her had begged for his life, had told them of the wife and daughter that he would be leaving behind - as if they would make any sort of difference to the vampiric woman. It was, instead, Tetradore that was left with the very guilt of it when then claws sank into the man's chest when those screams turned to gurgles when his canines tore out his throat. All of it left a vile taste in his mouth, one he'd almost forgotten the very flavor of. A soft breath left his lips as he stepped out of Risque's office in that human skin, temporarily released from his imprisonment within that crimson room when some business call demanded her attention. Now, it was that very desire to forget that called at him, prompting him to leave the vampire's hallway and into the main room of the vast club. How he detested this place - the thrum of her music echoed within his very bones, the loudness and bright flashing of those lights were jarring to his senses and yet, he had become well enough at simply tunning all of it out. He moved through the throng of bodies that so collected upon the main floor, despising the very closeness of their frames pressed against him. At the very least, the rendition of Syn that he had burned to the very ground had been populated by faces that recognized him enough to move out of his way.

It was several forceful shoves later that Tetradore found himself blissfully free of the throng of people, the man entirely content to skirt the corners of the large room as he made his way towards the bar. "Whiskey, neat. Make it a double." He commanded simply to the woman on the other side of that black granite countertop. The Were-King all but collapsed in the bar stool in the furthest corner of the bar, his shoulders hunched ever so slightly as Tetradore ran his hand through those curly brunette locks. He knew Risque would find him again when she desired him, the were-feline bound to that dance club until the moon fell beyond the horizon and he once more regained some level of autonomy. Until then, that glass placed in front of him seemed more than enough to drown his thoughts within. With his very back to the world, Tetradore was content to simply sip upon the beverage within, the Were-King all but oblivious to who else now stalked these halls, nor did he anticipate in the slightest to be joined by that eerily familiar face.

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