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 (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

DARCY everyone knows that I'm dying to feel fine


Posted on March 05, 2019 by Alistair Rosenthal
West

"I'm sorry Alistair, I didn't think he'd...you know..." The soprano voice in his ear uttered, that exasperation all too clear in her voice. His head shook ever so slightly as he paused in front of the glass door of his office. "Don't worry about it Em, I guess I should have forewarned you that nothing's changed." He shrugged, even though the young woman could hardly see it. Alistair's emerald eyes briefly glanced past the windows of his office building only to eye the darkness that had already befallen across the city. It was only just after six and still winter so clutched the metropolis, the snow lightly falling just outside the window, coating the sidewalks in a gentle blanket of white. How cold of a winter it had been, much less how late of a spring it was. "No, no, it's not your fault. I should have warned you we were coming. I'm sorry to impose like this. I think we're here though? Should we wait for you?" His sister's voice drew Alistair from his thoughts as the man stepped outside and into the still night air. He drew that fitted trench coat closer towards his masculine figure, only to sift through the messenger bag hanging from his side as he balanced his cellphone between his ear shoulder. "No, it's okay. I just got off work." He started, the man abruptly cut off. "Just now?! Alistair!" Alistair rolled his eyes as he dug through those sketch pads and work-related documents. "Oh, shut up Em. We've been busy with this movie coming out that we're doing the advertising for. It's going to take me a bit to get home, there's a key hidden under the doormat though, I figured you'd come around eventually."

A rare simper spread across Alistair's features at the indignant snort he received over the phone, the man slightly smug of just how right he'd been about his sibling. He pulled those gloves from his bag, pausing just on the sidewalk as his emerald eyes slid between those opposing pathways in front of him. He could easily stick to the sidewalks though it was hardly the fastest route home. Although Alistair had heard well of the dangers of the night, much less those darkened alleyways, he'd cut through them hundreds of times before without any significant event, quite literally able to shave ten minutes off of his walk from those little short cuts alone. With the way the cold nipped at his skin, frankly, those ten minutes seemed precious enough to be worth it. "Ah! Found it! Thank you Alistairrrr, I'll see you home in a bit, okay? I'll start on dinner or something." His sister rambled on, prompting a small chuckle from the man. "All right, Em. Sounds great. See you in a bit." He commented, the siblings saying their short-lived goodbyes before Alistair slid the cellphone back into his jacket pocket. The artist crossed the street as he ducked towards the alleyway, his emerald eyes turned down towards the gloves within his hand. He toyed with the edges of the gloves with the intention to so pull them apart when the sound of a yowl filled his ears, causing him to pause abruptly in an almost startled fashion.

Something rushed by his feet, near racing for the safety of several nearby cardboard boxes stacked precariously down the side of the alleyway. For a moment, Alistair merely glanced down at his feet before some level of realization so struck him. His eyebrows furrowed as he shoved those gloves in his jacket pocket, only to shift towards those slightly moving cardboard boxes. "Hey, kitty..." He commented softly, moving to crouch down in front of those boxes. The peculiar looking cat all but hissed at him, clearly not forgiving him for....whatever had prompted the cat to rush past him in the first place. He watched as the small kitten fluffed up and yet, Alistair was not to be deterred. "You have some interesting ears there." He commented, gingerly reaching out to the cat to let it sniff him. A small altogether rare simper crossed his features as the artist slowly reached out for the cat, the feline hardly skittish enough to make him think it was a complete stray and yet there was no denying there was something unusual about it. Slowly, Alistair pulled the kitten into his arms, his hands gingerly caressing the cat's head, prompting the soft reverberating purr from deep within the small kitten's throat. "You seem pretty friendly, don't you?" He inquired to the kitten, scratching it under his chin as he eyed the kitten's neck. "It looks like you don't have a collar but...I suspect you belong to someone, don't you?" The cat certainly seemed rather...tame in comparison to those feral street cats and, really, with something so cute and entirely unique, Alistair wasn't very surprised.

His head tilted to the side as he watched the kitten all but nuzzle into his hand, it's sudden eagerness for affection entirely amusing to the boy. "Well, why don't you come home with me and we can call the animal shelter tomorrow, hm? Em would love to see you." He commented at the cat, turning to head down the alleyway and back on his original path towards his own flat. It was, admittedly, a rather peculiar sound that caused the artist to pause, only to glance over his shoulder in a baffled fashion at the clinking of metal. His eyebrows furrowed as his gaze turned down the man's shoes, that metal almost glinting in the light cast from the street lamps behind them. That soft simper upon his features all but disappeared as Alistair's voice turned cold, "Is there something I can help you with?"


Alistair
Rosenthal

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