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

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


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 smell your scent for miles

Posted on March 21, 2020 by lazarus

The dark-eyed hunter and the white-haired witch, they got along just about as well as fire and kerosene. From day one, they only seemed to ignite one another, usually only in a bad way. He could hardly forget their first meeting at The Cat's Meow. Truthfully, their first encounter with each other was doomed before it ever even took place that night, both of them having been in a less than complacent mood at the time. Besides, who can say with confidence that they've met the other part of their soul in the belly of such an establishment? It certainly wasn't the place for a first date.The man could almost smell the overwhelming stench of mixed perfumed sprayed a few too many times on each scantily dressed woman that occupied the stages of that stripper club all over again. It all comes to him in perfect clarify, the way she turned in her seat beside him. Now, one might at least think that they would have shared some sort of common greeting as with most interactions between strangers... but that was not how Lazarus and Vhalla worked. Instead, he remembers how those glacier blue eyes just as cold as they looked turn to him when he'd happened to take notice of her after watching the exotic dancer on stage."What are you looking at?" she'd drawled at him then, the bourbon thick on her breath that night. He can remember the way she'd looked at him, giving the hunter a once over as if she couldn't care less about his existence. But that wasn't something the man was unfamiliar with. No, he was rather accustomed to getting that look from strangers on the streets or even in the crowded halls of his high school. Admittedly, he would have done well to just keep his mouth shut. Maybe that would have been the end of it then, and they would have parted ways, never to see one another again. But, life didn't like making these easier for Lazarus, so he didn't like making it any easier for others.

Instead of just letting it slide like he should have, he'd given her a signature wolfish grin as he intentionally allowed for those daring dark green eyes of his to savor those curves again in a very clear "you think you scare me?" kind of way. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat like a deep growl then as he looked away from her, hardly interested in starting some petty little scuffle. He;d promised Ellie he wouldn't go finding trouble, especially since they'd only recently moved to Sacrosanct."A pissy witch, apparently", had been the words he'd chosen to give her, amusement laced in those tenor tones that slid lazily over his tongue. She could have just left with a disgusted look, something Lazarus has always been more than familiar with being on the receiving end of."Take a picture, it'll last longer. That's about as close as you're going to get to scoring tonight", she'd said to him, a wicked smile dancing across luscious lips he would later come to crave and despise all in the same fleeting moment. Again, he'd had a chance to just disregard her, maybe even leave after paying for his drink like he'd considered nearly two years ago in that club. That would have been the smart thing to do. But, again, Lazarus refused to be the one backing down, and he certainly did not want to give her the satisfaction of having the final word. So, He'd dared to find the line with a molasses-smooth retort of "No thanks babydoll, I'm good. I can find better I'm sure". The hunter learned quickly that night that the white-haired witch was far from keen on being given pet names. She'd fired back with a nonchalant "I doubt you could", but when she'd dared to make to draw the assumption that he was just some trashy prick looking for a good time, that was when he found her line and thoroughly barreled through it. Most men with their senses about them would have known better than to say what he did next.

"Maybe when it's your shift, I'll come back and give you a little tip if you dance real nice for me. But don't take your bad mood out on a guy just trying to enjoy himself a little because no one wants to take you home tonight".

The next thing he knew, her fist met his face, barely managing to dodge a fireball, only to end up on his back and his shirt - and the skin beneath it - scorched. That is just how well their relationship had started, and it has yet to be determined if they'd really gotten any better as time and undesired circumstances insisted on drawing them to one another. Like, for example, the night she'd been chased by who knows what, resulting in the hunter losing the battle against his desire to simply leave her bleeding there on the bathroom floor in yet another one of the grungy clubs scattered across the west side of the city. It was like some unknown force kept feeling the need to pull the witch and the hunter together, and it had very nearly driven Lazarus mad as he slowly began to find himself drawn to her without being forced into a less-than-desirable situation. And, once Ellie had begun to suspect the depths of their involvement with one another, well, that was the end of any peace he would ever have hoped to have within the confines of his own home. The honey-blonde woman always giggling and making passing remarks about if he'd seen her recently, or how they'd just recently gone shopping together and found some dress or something that Vhal had looked amazing in. It was like his own damn sister was trying to conspire against him or something. So, when he just so coincidentally happens to see Vhal sitting there at the bar tonight, on the same evening that he has moved back to Sacrosanct, it was enough to almost have the man suspecting if his sister had anything to do with this. It was unlikely, really, but all the same, it was like he just couldn't seem to live a day without the witch haunting the furthest corners of his memories. And, now, he had to deal with her in the present, when he'd once been certain that he would never see her again.

Lazarus hardly misses the satisfaction she gains from his narrowed gaze, her own smile seeming to go wickedly. Yes, the two were very much like animals in that they seemed to greet one another with open hostility and far from friendly words. If he had hackles, they surely would have been raised in agitation at the woman, the bane of his existence as he shoves her legs from the seat and settles down with every intent to claim it as his, her false gawking hardly holding any satisfaction for the man. Ah, but of course, when she goes to purposely fling long, silken hair into his face, he raises a hand to swat the strands away. Seriously? Is she purposefully trying to piss me off? Yes. The obvious answer was yes, she was. He swore it was her favorite fucking pastime. She arches a brow after he orders his drink, a low growl in his throat as he expects some sort of smart-ass remark from the witch, and just like clockwork, she bashes on his drink. But, instead of giving her even more pleasure with a snarled reply, that familiar wolfish grin finds his chiseled features as dark forest eyes fix themselves devilishly upon hers of frost and winter."I definitely don't remember watering down those bottles of whiskey and vodka at your place that one night", he says smoothly, his voice suggestive in every sense. He knew she would remember that night. If he couldn't forget it, she definitely couldn't. That had been the night he'd met Ivan. That had been the night when he'd first felt a sense of... possessiveness over her, remembering very clearly how he'd wanted nothing more in that moment than to rip the undead bastard limb from limb for laying his hands on her. It had been a strange feeling for the hunter, and he'd hated her all the more for it. Or so he would claim. And yet, there still has not been another woman to induce such things within Lazarus.

She makes the remark on how he hasn't changed, that he was still the same prick, and he only rolls his dark forest eyes."And you're still the same infuriating woman. Surprise, surprise", he retorts, his last two words dripping in agitated sarcasm. And yet, what goes unseen is that the hunter wasn't entirely the same man as he was when Vhal had last seen him, when he'd left this city with every intent of never coming back. But, he decides that he would let her think that he wasn't different. The last thing he wanted was for her to pry, because she likely would. He goes to take a deep drink from the cold glass in his hands, delivering the message his sister had given him only for the white-haired woman to furrow her brows, revealing to him something that wasn't really surprising. He'd suspected that Ellie and Vhal still messaged each other, the two having been so close before they left Sacrosanct. But, when her next words find him, his hands clench onto the glass a litter firmer than was needed, though he is mindful not to break it. Setting his glass onto the worn wood of the bar, he shoots a glare at the woman, dark eyes glowering with indignation."How was I supposed to know you wanted me to text you?! And why the fuck would you even want me to? I thought I was just 'the same prick'?", he barks back. What he does not admit to was that there had been a time or two since he'd been away that there had been the temptation to... He had her number... But, what he didn't have was something to say to her. They were never together. They could hardly stand to spend any given moment together without snarling or sneering at each other. Just the idea of texting her a random "Hey, what's up?" or "Still alive?" didn't feel like enough right... especially when he still craved her, wondered if she'd found someone else to fill her free time with. And, part of him didn't want to know if she had.

There was no way that she would believe that it was only the thought of her white hair, the taste of her lips, and the feel of her skin against his which occupied his mind when it dared to wander as he lounged in the solitude of his bedroom as he would attempt to drown out the past with bottle after bottle of whisker, rum, scotch, or anything he could get his hands on. Sure, he'd decided to take up the family business left to him so many years ago, and he was frankly doing rather well for himself financially. He'd put together a council of his own, and they'd become what the gods intended for them to. He would even use the skills that Vhal had taught him during their many fierce sparrings within her well-equipped warehouse, though the man would rather die than confess such a thing to the witch. In truth, no matter how much he drank or how many weres or undead he took down, she always haunted the shadows of his mind - much to his frustration and annoyance, or so he'd tried to convince himself. He could never seem to rid himself of her, and it both infuriated him while somehow making him want her all the more.... No woman was enough for him now, nor did a pretty face which did not belong to the witch even manage to rouse or tempt him. They weren't her. He forcefully pushes away these thoughts and the restless nights spent trying to banish her from his mind when she asks him what it was he has returned for. Which happened to also be an equally unpleasant topic for the hunter."For reasons that don't concern you", he growls as he lifts his drink up to his lips again. He doesn't dare to mention Jason, a name Vhal likely already knows from Ellie. He doesn't speak of his dislike for the man and Jason's dislike for him. But, most of all, he doesn't even breathe of the fact that he was here because he was putting distance between himself and Ellie.

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