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.
Cull & Pistol
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.
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
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
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
(dear friend it will be alright, please just stay by my side)
(you might think the world is tumbling down, but it's not)
These visions of hers, some would think them to be a gift. To be able to see into the past, to see who someone truly was, to see if they have done terrible things. But Maeve did not wish to pry, to invade their privacy as Matteo had taught her. The past was a private thing. Maybe though, these visions that she has occasionally, one would consider a gift. Visions of the future. To know what is coming, to be able to prepare oneself. But, in reality, it was nothing more than a burden, especially for one as young as Maeve was. The lithe little fae didn't want to know what was going to happen in the future, she was entirely content with the present time and no earlier and no later. Of course, the golden haired child could not exactly say she minded seeing her friends when they were children, when they were her age. It was a sort of fun experience for the little girl who knew them only as adults.
But what the girl with golden hair saw just the other day had left her shaken.
Once again, like the vision she had experienced before she had met Matteo, Maeve had felt as if she could not breath, and she felt almost sick. But all these symptoms were minor to the girl with those pale golden tresses as compared to what the vision actually showed. Those purple eyes of hers had witnessed something terrible. There was screaming, she could almost feel the pain radiating from the image. Yellow, black, yelling, the metallic smell of blood, and the coldness of impending doom. Spots, blackness, more pain, cries. The wall, she had told herself, picture the wall. She remembered Matteo's lessons, and she pictured a wall being placed between herself and her vision before anything could go too far, she didn't want to know what was going to happen, Maeve was not sure she could handle it.
Violet eyes rush open as Maeve finds herself released from her vision. The petite, slender child feels her breath catch in her lungs, her whole body almost shaking from the force of what she had just seen and experienced. What had that been? This had been a few days ago and Maeve had hardly given it a second thought, but maybe, really, maybe she ought to have. Maybe then, all this could have been avoided, and an innocent little girl never would have gotten hurt.
The violet eyed girl didn't even have time to change from her school uniform. One of her friend's parents were picking her up this afternoon and had offered to drop Maeve off at the Ark. Maeve, of course, jumped at the chance, she was starting to feel guilty about using her persuasion to make all those taxi drivers take her to see her friends. She didn't want to be late when someone was offering the fae child with pale golden tresses a favor, and so she stayed in her uniform, a modest black skirt, knee high black socks, a light blue undershirt, with a black cardigan over the top, baring the initials SSA, Sacrosanct School of the Arts. "Come on, Maeve," her friend calls into her room and violet eyes turn to look at her, before following her friend out of her room and outside to the car that would take her to the Ark.
"You have family out in the West?" The girl's mother asks and Maeve offers her a small smile and nod, nothing more, early wishing to give away too much. Though there is a painful sort of innocence in her eyes eyes just begging to be poisoned. When they pull up to an area close to the Ark, Maeve tells her this is where she will be dropped off. The apartment structure before them is plain, but it looks at least semi decent, decent enough to pass as Maeve's aunt and uncle's house. "Thank you," she says in that bright and radiant voice of hers as she climbs out of the car, grabbing her backpack before closing the car door behind her. She begins walking towards the building, looking back at the vehicle and waving until they finally drive out of sight.
Maeve turns direction and begins to skip down the sidewalk towards the ark, a silvery tune on her tongue and a gentle smile on her lips. Her almost ivory hair streams out behind her in the breeze she creates for herself as she continues to move, unaware of the danger lurking nearby, unaware of just how true that vision of the future was about to become.
The snowy haired girl is unprepared when suddenly hands are upon her, grabbing her small body and attempting to put a hand over her mouth. All her instincts call out that she is in danger, that whatever is happening is not good. Maeve tosses her head back and forth, moving those tiny limbs in an attempt to escape. Her mouth opens and bites down upon the man's hand, drawing a tiny bit of blood due to the force of the bite. He lets go for just a moment, just enough time for the girl to scream out into the air. "Tetra! Tobi! Help!" The scream that comes in the form of their names is unlike anything heard from Maeve before, the sheer terror that fills her voice is shocking. The man's hand quickly clamps over her mouth again, but this time she finds her face colliding with a wet rag and within seconds with a few quick and deep panicked breathes, Maeve loses consciousness.
Her throat burns.
Those violet eyes flitter open, she feels so tired. But it only takes a moment for Maeve to realize that she is not where she is supposed to be. She should be in the Ark, playing hide and seek with Tobi, or sitting beside Tetra, or asking Mira the million questions for always has for the woman. Not here...wherever she is. Maeve can feel a thin blanket beneath her, that was placed on concrete, the ground is hard. Eyes start to come into focus and she sees someone peering down at her, a face she vaguely recognizes but unsure where from. "Wakey, wakey, little fairy," the voice says in a mocking tone. "Where..." Maeve begins to ask but is quickly cut off as she sits up groggily. "Dont bother asking where you are. You wont be here long. You know how much fae go for now a days? Let alone a child? You are a rarity for sure, and we are going to make a fortune," he says. "So, lucky you, you get to stay alive...for now," he says with an evil smile and suddenly Maeve knows who this man is. The hunter. She spots other faces now, all hunters. This was the hunter that had tried to take her the day Tobi and Tetra had rescued her. It seems they were back to finish the job.
In an instant Maeve is on her feet and starts running in any direction she even remotely thinks is an exit. But her tiny frame is no match for the quick reflexes and supernatural power of a Dark Hunter. "Let me go!" She shouts, practically growling out her words with such a cat like ferocity perhaps even Tobi would be proud. His strong arms wrap around her tiny body as he pulls her back to the area of the warehouse where the other hunters were conjugated. Sitting her down, he pulls out some rope and forces her hands behind her back and around a pole. Maeve refuses to show an ounce of fear towards this man, instead she grits her teeth and narrows her eyes in his direction, but that mouth if forced open into a cry of pain as a burning sensation wraps around her arms. She kicks out her legs in pain. "What are you doing?" She shouts at him, trying to free her hands but feeling the rope bite even more. "It has iron in it," the man says. "Scream all you want, no one will hear you," he says before turning his back on her. Maeve sits there in agony, she would not cry though, she needed to be tough, like a were. Behind the pole she wiggles her hands, causing the rope to bite further into her skin and burn her arms. Maeve, being so young, she had never experienced this type of pain before. She knew a skinned knee, she knew a paper cut, but never this.
It would seem, struggling was not going to reap any rewards from the child, and so she attempts to move those hands so perhaps the least bit of her arms were touching the burning rope. She doesn't want to cry, but she feels her eyes sting and quickly she blinks lavender hues to keep any tears from falling. This is when she feels a shadow loom over her and looks up to see the Dark Hunter that had tried to take her months ago. "I want to know how you nearly got me to drop my gun that day," he says bending down and reaching out a hand to brush back a strand of Maeve's nearly white locks. She shakes her head away from him, but refuses to answer. "Talk, fae," he says, commands. But, still, Maeve remains quiet, looking up at him with such a vacant, blasÃ© and uninterested expression, that may contain even the slightest remnants of a panther. This is when the man grabs a long, iron rod and places it against her stomach. Her sweater blocks a significant portion of the irons, but she can feel it burn through the fibers of the fabric. She clenches her teeth even tighter, but a high pitched squeal pushes up past her throat as she squirms in pain underneath the rod. "I saidâ€"talk."