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 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
Cats Aiden Tetradore
Cats Harlequin Westward

i can't escape myself, so many times i've lied


Posted on December 31, 2019 by AIDEN TETRADORE
West

aiden tetradore

There's no saving me.
I've become a shell of the man I was. Only time will tell if I'm strong enough.

God, how he detested the coldness that set the jungle cat shivering. His ebony fur was hardly meant for the arctic temperatures that Darcy had all but assaulted him with - disrupting his once smooth, sleek coat. It was rare, admittedly, when Tetradore allowed those distinctly feline demeanors and yet, while the pair of vampires conversed over surprises and Risque's 'ravishing' figure, the Alpha saw little reason not to right the misery of his situation in the only way he could. His pink tongue licked at the pads of his paws, using his own salvia to groom himself. He was hardly aware, admittedly, of the scent that so accompanied the thoroughly soaked feline, at least until the saccharine sweet melody of Risque's voice soured in her discontent. Tetradore hardly had a moment to glance upward as she turned upon her heels to fetch a bottle of perfume before his very sense were all but struck by the fine mist that descended upon him like the fucking plague. A sneeze wracked the feline's frame as the smell of lavender and jasmine filled his nostrils, leaving his nose twitching as his emerald eyes regarded the pair of vampires with a near murderous look. The corner of his lip twitched and yet that instinct to growl was quickly suppressed before the sound could truly by uttered. Darcy promptly uttered his own praise of their shared Mistress' actions, the vampire's eagerness to please her prompted a roll of Tetradore's eyes as his gaze turned away from the pair in utter loathing.

Darcy jerked at the leash, the silver upon his neck biting into his flesh and, in turn, Tetradore shifted to his feet, trailing begrudgingly behind the pair of undead creatures. They moved throughout the labyrinth of Syn, any employees they came across all but rushing out of the way of the progression. The sight of the basement door, however, made even Tetradore hesitate - those evenings he'd spent within the room all but burned in the forefront of his mind, producing a sort of anxiety within the man at even the sight of her beloved 'torture chamber'. Even he was not wholly oblivious to just how irritable his Mistress was - his frequent bouts of rebelliousness rarely went without consequence. Attached to the leash in Darcy's hand, however, Tetradore had little choice but to follow the pair within its depths - any fight he might have given would have been short-lived in comparison to the vampiric strength he knew rested within Darcy's fists. A plethora of black balloons bobbed across the floor in the wake of the door's opening, pushed back by the breeze before rushing forward the moment they stepped inside. His ears were pinned against his head, his tail lashing behind him and yet, neither vampire seemed terribly attentive to the panther, Risque's newest 'present' enraptured them entirely. He thought particularly little of that wooden device in the center of the room, those beams utterly meaningless to the man who'd never learned of the atrocities birthed from the medieval era. On the contrary, Tetradore's own attention quickly deviated towards a wayward balloon that seemed determined to stick to his cheek.

The Were-feline had hardly noticed the cage in the corner, much less the fae that huddled in the far reaches of it. The balloons that had quickly taken to surrounding the damp cat near demanding his attentiveness as he struggled to shed the static balls of helium. His paw outstretched, batting at the balloons that threatened to all but overtake him - entirely oblivious of that delicate moment between Risque and her huddled victim of the evening. It was, however, desperation alone that caused his claws to unshealth, the panther hardly even aware of those sharpened points until they collided ever just so into the side of a balloon, causing it to pop with a loud thud. The noise startled even the feline himself, the cat jumping as he stared accusatorily at those black balloons, a hiss echoing from his jaws. The sharpness to Darcy's voice hesitantly drew Tetradore's gaze from that perceived threat, the man hardly anticipating the laughter that suddenly bubbled upon Risque's lips. The sound was nothing short of baffling as she grinned at him, bemused by his own discomfort, though was that not so eternally Risque? Darcy's own sudden chuckle was nothing short of forced, prompting a narrowing of Tetradore's vibrant gaze. His mistress' command was accompanied by the very weight of her power, compelling his limbs as the panther found himself suddenly slinking forward and into a veritable tsunami of those balloons. How quickly he almost seemed to disappear beneath the balloons that squeaked and squished with his each movement, clinging to his hide as if the cat was coated in glue.

God, how they clung to him, the feline almost claustrophobic under their determined crowding. He was aware, vaguely, of someone running by him - the fae's escape all but accompanying a sudden decrease of Risque's affinity as both vampire's attention immediately deviated. The woman's sudden command to fetch however, resulted in a slight tug upon his neck as Darcy fastened the other end of his leash to one leg of Risque's newest 'toy'. The vampire all but dashed after the fae with vampiric speed, the poor man hardly holding but a candle of hope against Darcy's capabilities. The fae struggled feebly against Darcy's unbreakable hold, lashing out in any way he could as the vampire dragged him back towards their mistress. The fae kicked outward in Tetradore's direction, the Were only barely dodging the blow. The attack, however, garnered all of Tetradore's attention, the Alpha decidedly was taken aback at the very appearance of those youthful features. Immediately, the feline found himself desiring a better view, the man quick to seize the opportunity of the vampires' shared distraction. He shook off those balloons, only to jump upwards and on top of the rack he found himself tied to. His perch was precarious upon the very edge of the mahogany device - the panther hardly fearing the piece of furniture, having never seen its abilities in action.

Tetradore watched in silence as Darcy wrestled the fae's arms behind his back, all but presenting the poor man to Risque for inspection. Although Tetradore hardly cared for what befell the fae, he was hardly unaware of the very resemblance that fae had to another - one vastly more important to him. He knew well enough, however, that the two were not the same, this one's hair didn't fall quite the same way, his eyes were too far apart, their color more blue than silver, his nose was slightly too large, his face too round and yet...the similarities were uncanny enough to set the Were on edge. How many times had he hallucinated this - Risque getting her hands upon his father? To watch this fae's ill fate somehow seemed...more daunting than usual. It was perhaps that reason alone that saw Tetradore retreat back into the depths of that facade of apathy he so often wore. His tail curled tightly around him, the ears erect upon his chiseled skull the only indication of his vague interest as the panther otherwise stilled - poised like a statue at the edge of Risque's newly beloved 'rack'.

This is my last goodbye

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