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 (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
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

Get inside your head;

Posted on May 02, 2020 by Risque

Such an insolent little brat with a death wish. What was worse rather than the incessant disrespectful prattling, was incorrect statements flowing from his lips. He hardly knew the hellish queen of felines that he so boldly stood against. How she could skin him alive for his ignorance, clean like the skin of an apple, her dexterous hands steady and formidable when she deemed fit. An assault against her club, her and what was hers certainly reason for retaliation even though that femme fatale scarcely needed a reason. No this child was clearly not sent by Cade. Yet it would be impossible not to take those little clues he so carelessly left before her, those obvious threads forged a rope that could very well be the noose around this so-called watchdog's neck. Like he could stop her. Part of her was almost tempted for a slight demonstration... but the truth of the matter was. He was not worth her time.

Yet one thing for certain was Cobain had some explaining to do. He would serve her well upon her silver wall for weeks to come, after she made him bring the fairy to her for dissecting. Ah.. or perhaps bring them both? She certainly was not against using loved ones against one another. The midnight-haired she-devil eyed him with that near apathetic expression while he so boldly looked his executioner in the eye. Such passion.. Such fury... it would be like dousing a flame with ice water to rip his fairy he seemed so worked up over. How quickly they sizzled out with the right leverage.

He questions her like he had the right to an answer.

"He will do what I permit him to do." She cooed, those velvet words laced with acidic poison. It was almost adorable to think he could garner control, as if he possessed any of it on her side of the city... within her city that was practically nestled within her palm. Hers to destroy, to do as she pleased. How she tired of this little charade, that mutt dared to even curl his lip at her.

Someone put a muzzle on him.

She could feel those eyes upon her, watching... waiting for some kind of bubbling point to this little ordeal. Some eager.. Others fearful of the cruelty of Risque when her temper had been struck. 'Don't touch her..' He demands... Oh more demands. It was with that eager anticipatory flare of her powers and no warning that her felines began to move in a synchronized fashion. She would crush him beneath her silver lined heel and have her devout servants to scrape off his remains from its bottom.

After all, that is all she sees. A dog that needs to be put down. A slow, almost eager but ominous smile began to curl upon her sinful lips not offering him any other words. Her tiger moved with savage, deadly purpose to swiftly bring down her ill-tempered foe.

The tiger collided with her trapped prey.. Its thirsty claws seeking for his flesh, with anticipation to shred the young boy to ruin. "Nothing left to say mon chien?" She questions darkly, the press of that large mass with piercing unforgiving claws pressed into him. Of course he did not...

Just as that final word was uttered he is gone. Nothing but empty space where he used to be. The tiger barked its frustration, landing heavily to the ground looking... warily beneath his massive deadly claws.. Risque scoffed in indignance,nothing but his scent and the scant blood that wove within the air. A scent she would not soon forget... or that youthful face.

She leaned into that bar almost casually, her fingers dug within her feline's thick coat. She looked Ian, the bartender in the eye. "If he returns... kill him, then bring me what's left."

With that, Marcello was already forgotten, the patrons already returning to what they came here to do and Risque returned back to her business. How dreadfully anticlimactic.