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 (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

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

Nightshade

our lives are made by the death of others


Posted on December 25, 2020 by AIDEN TETRADORE
West

calamity

The life I live is one big calamity

They had docked early in the morning - the superyacht once again taking up that role of a shiny, ostentatious behemoth to dominant the skyline of the Western Ward. It was hardly like the Ark they had lost - this one certainly smaller and yet, what it lacked in size, it made up for in pure and simple extravagance. The once worn paint and industrial vibe had been replaced by sleek matte grey siding with reflective one way mirrored windows that lined the hull. A large cursive 'A' had been painted upon the boat, this ship had been titled the same as the one it replaced. The Ark. Finally, after months, she was back in all of her splendor. And how undeniably stately she was! With two topside decks, one of which featured a pool with a waterfall feature over top of his garage. Her interior was just as breathless. Each pack room held floor to ceiling windows, inline lighting, and meticulous wood paneling. They each had identical modern styled bathrooms and custom-crafted walk-in closets, each room decked with only the bare necessities to allow them to be styled by each member of the pack. The boat's amenities hardly stopped there, however, there was a library, a proper spa, a gym, the observatory, and, most importantly of all, a newly revamped fighting ring just so that the Ark might continue its seedy line of business, naturally in added style.

The Were-King was settled at the new bar, his hand idly spinning his phone on the black tiled countertop in front of him before glancing at the time, again. A soft sigh crossed his lips and yet, he was well aware of the golden irises that glanced almost bemused at him. "I know, I know." He commented, already anticipating whatever word Mira might utter about how useless it was to stare at the clock, like that would make the time move any faster. The vibrant emerald hue of his gaze watched the young woman as she began to restock the lighted empty shelves of the bar with the multitude of bottles that had been awaiting them on board. It had been pointless to put them up prior to now, the trip across the Atlantic ocean had hit its fair share of rough seas and the couple, in turn, had been otherwise preoccupied with exploring every nook and cranny of the boat Tetradore had purchased, and indulging within it. Nevertheless, it was his pack that Tetradore waited for. He'd sent out a group text message earlier in the morning, something along the lines of 'Merry Christmas Eve. Come down to the docks at 8.' Perfectly vague and perfectly to the point. After all, the Ark was meant to be a Christmas present of sorts. It had been...months since he had seen the pack gathered together. In fact, the night the cargo ship had sunk was the last evening the group had been together as one...as a family.

Impatience had never been a trait that defined Tetradore, at least, not where his pack was concerned. This was...somewhat abnormal for the Alpha. He knew it, Mira knew it, and by the way she was looking at him he knew too she wanted to ask after it. Tetradore had gotten...accustomed to that probing stare, the way her eyes as questions she would only occasionally voice. Then again, his girlfriend had also learned a greater deal of his own....quirks ever since the pair had been living in such tight proximity to one another. "I just want to see their reaction to it." Tetradore offered her as he leaned back within the barstool, restlessly letting the stool turn with his feet. A soft breath left his lips, "It's already 8." He mumbled to her, that soft snort of air that left her nose told him well what she thought of that. It was the sound, however, of footsteps on the opened gangplank outside that drew the man's attention, the vibrancy of his gaze so quickly shifted towards the door, curious both of who the first person to arrive would be and how they might handle finally having a home again.

New Ark Pics: https://www.sacrosanctrpg.com/Misc/Ark

I don't owe you a god damned thing

Replies