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
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.
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.
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.
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.
Risque eyed the ill-tempered mutt with those fathomless pale eyes, focused upon the out of place canine. He stood out amongst the bar of patrons, Risque immediately pinpointed that distinct scent of dog, even amongst the other mingling scents. Of course, she could not put it beyond Cade to send one of his dogs into the lion's den that was Syn. Even one as oblivious as he.
Risque drew near that intruder with a vague curiosity that never boded well to the being that possessed it. With the large striped tiger at her side moving through the throng of gyrating bodies close to Risque's commanding form. It was a common sight to view those large cats that lay almost lazily upon their platforms which lined the walls, some fast asleep even with the assaulting music while others simply felt content to peer out into the crowd, bound to Risque's orders. Most people within that crowd were completely oblivious, lost to the attraction and distraction Syn provided their plain little lives. It was their money and the occasional vein she was after, rarely anything more from those frequenting guests.
The little canine perched at her bar seemed entirely oblivious to the danger that drew nearer, the boy whirled around to face the ominous voice that commanded his attention to her. Hm. She half wondered if he would notice her approach. The massive striped tiger sat much like a trained pet by her side, further crowding the boy personal space like a little mouse trapped like prey. She hardly anticipated someone so young. Someone, who clearly should have been stopped at her doors by the bouncer to keep out such riffraff. She would have words with him later. This was no place for children and yet Risque hardly discriminated with age when she sent her felines to play. This boy couldn't be any more than 17, his face youthful and hardly weathered by the cruel hands of time. Yet he acted with such confidence that hardly mirrored his age. Yet, there was something about him almost reminiscent to Cobain's youth, the vampire hardly able to tell.
He claimed to be a watchdog, and how unmoved she seemed by those powerfully uttered words. Like some neighbourhood pooch patrol? Was that supposed to intimidate her? Like he could stop her if she desired to rip that thudding heart from his chest. She could take everything from him as he watched and raze his little world to the ground with a mere flick of her wrist.
"How droll." She tasted those drawn-out words that fell from the tongue. He went on to claim he wanted her to notice him... or well someone. He clearly had no idea who he was... "How did you slip by my bouncers? They are supposed to card, this is no place for children." She rose a singular brow, her gaze both cruel and bored. How quickly she could have him by the throat... pressing that sharpened silver talon she wore into his jugular in a blink of an eye... or just how easy it would be with but a kiss of power to afflict his mind, entrapping him in an endless nightmare. Ah, choices, did she have to choose just one?
He remained sitting upon the barstool like a sitting duck. The foolish boy hardly needed much prompting to spill his motives like a welcome mat. Fae? Now... that certainly garnered her attention. This mutt had a fae. How convenient a thing to have fallen in her lap. How easy it would be to take it from him, he would prove to be no threat at all. It was that mention of he... that brought an immediate possessive curl of her lips, displaying but a glimpse of fang. Darcy? Did this dog think he could waltz in here and threaten what was hers? Tetradore clearly not foolish enough to trifle with a weak little fairy girl, surely. And yet, a thought was triggered, vague and swift within the back of her mind she remembers.
Cobain had come to her, one night with the stench of Fae all over him. Another being that was hers and yet that meant if this Fae was still alive. Then he had not done as he was told. How curious that was.. And yet maybe it was an opportunity to salvage a disappointing situation. An opportunity to possess yet another fairy. What a rare delicacy indeed. Their blood was a coveted commodity and terribly expensive. She was sure with not even an hour of diligent care he would have him screaming her whereabouts.
Foolish.. foolish boy. He must have not understood that he was practically done for. Such blatant disrespect oozes from him. "Vampire? Why that doesn't narrow things down now does it?" her words dripped with arrogant smoothness like a cool pointed blade pressed to his very throat as she toyed with him. So many assumptions and he just kept going. Her face remained perfectly apathetic as she tipped her head just slightly to the side.
"Non." She uttered in french, that accent still lingering within her words. Just what that was an answer to she hardly expanded simply because she didn't have to. If anyone was going to end Cobain it certainly wasn't this mutt. At the very least he was... simply stirring the pot. How disappointing it was that Cobain left behind a trail of problems... leading them right to her upon displeasingly to Syn's doorstep. Perhaps she would enjoy watching the two face-off, only to teach her defiant progeny a lesson, to see if he could finally clean up his own mess. Just how delightfully rewarding would it be for him to retrieve her that fae as payment for just blatant disappointment.
How little patience she possessed for those who squandered what was not theirs. It was as though the air around him wasn't already suffocatingly scant with all that power crackling like a looming cloud of despair above him. Could he feel that figurative noose around his neck already tightening?
" You are a waste of my time.. mutt. Now... if you brought your little fae with you we might have something else to talk about." That voice was sinfully melodious and wicked. How little he knew that with all his talking allowed those felines time to draw nearer or the fact that the one just at her side was coiled and ready to spring forth at a moments notice.
How often they show the dog chasing a cat up the tree... that cat was clearly not a tiger. A snarl tore from her lurking feline, a sound soon met with echoing cries that might as well have been the jackal's eulogy... as they listened to Risque's wordless summoning. Risque stepped smoothly to the side, for once, a wicked gleam entered her multifaceted eyes. All she needed was just one well met cut and that would be it. That tiger's bite or a slice of his claws might not kill him at first. But she certainly would once that first drop of blood was spilt. He had nowhere to go within the bar at his back, those surrounding felines and Risque herself at his front. She raised a hand to stop the bartender from intervening. No, that would be too easy. Not a single soul would help him here. How precarious for Marcelo, willingly wandering into a trap.
With a sudden surge of that affinity for felines, the tiger launched forward, his roar overpowering the loudly thudding music. Nothing more than a violent fury of claws and teeth headed right for the tarnished golden-haired boy with the intent to maim his master's prey.