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
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

and I say just go away, just go away, just go away


Posted on July 25, 2021 by AIDEN TETRADORE
West

my monsters are realthey're trained how to kill, these monsters can fight
they'll never say die, there's no goin' back
if I get trapped I'll never heal

Subtly, the corner of the Alpha's brows furrowed in contemplation as his emerald irises hesitantly turned upward towards his Mistress. His gaze swept over her composed features, searching for any hint of emotion that might provide him with some insight on this unexpected...'gift' that she had bestowed upon him. She seemed...almost displeased, her pale gaze focused intently upon him as she surveyed her work. The silver was irritating, to say the least, his skin itching in it's constant effort to heal away the equally constant burning of his flesh at the metal's contact. Her movement was abrupt as she gestured towards the full length mirror on the far end of the wall. Slowly, his gaze followed her hand towards his reflection as Risque demanded his inspection of her handiwork. Sluggishly, Tetradore rose to his feet, the man maintained his own stoicness as he approached the mirror. His hand reached up to brush aside his curly brunette locks just enough to eye his newest, unfortunate piece of jewelry. It seemed harmless enough, but the scent of blood and the intonation of her voice still resounded in his thoughts, assuring him that it was anything but. Removing it might prove far more...difficult then he had anticipated. The Alpha remained silent as he stared at his reflection - he had learned long ago that his voicelessness was often the easiest way to survive Risque's ire. Any words he spoke would be ones she might find discontent with for any number of reasons that he hardly attempted to understand.

The soft clink of her wine glass upon the table caused his gaze to focus upon her reflection within the mirror as her figure moved with a serpentine grace towards him. She stood far too closely behind him, her very presence was one he could feel even without eying her within the glass. Her voice was sharp as she demanded to know his thoughts. The command was one he knew he couldn't ignore. A small frown tugged at the corner of his lips, the man certain his words would be viewed as inadequate and yet, he made an effort all the same as he commented how...'great' the gift was. His voice, however, failed to hold even a hint of enthusiasm, his efforts to placate his mistress fell short in this singular area and yet...how quickly obvious it was that she was less than thrilled with his response. He watched as her jaw tensed within the mirror, the reaction was a subtle one and yet, it spoke volumes of how very close he was to provoking her wrath. The Alpha was quick in his efforts to redirect her attention with a question that lingered prominently upon his thoughts. Truthfully, Tetradore hardly expected a response to his query, certainly not one that might provide him with any hint of knowledge on the true intent behind this unexpected gift.

Deftly, his mistress side stepped his inquiry, answering him with yet another query - one he knew did not offer room for additional prying. "Of course not, Mistress." He answered without hesitation, the Were-King well aware of what was expected of him as he made every effort, for once, to evade the pitfalls of her wordplay. His attempts, however, seemed to fail entirely as Risque turned her attention back onto his apparent lack of appropriate appreciation. His tongue slid across his bottom lip as he watched her in the mirror, the man entirely incapable of stopping that roll to his eyes as a soft, audible breath left nose. "....I'm not deserving of your..." His voice trailed off as he tried to find a word that might please her, even if his very tone was the epitome of indifferent. "...kindness?" Tetradore finished, the very word altogether laughable in it's application to his Mistress. Risque, he was certain, hadn't displayed an ounce of true kindness a single day within her life. Every action, every word, every gift, held within it an underlying current that focused only upon her own sick pleasure. The chilling sensation of her hand against his skin drew the Alpha from his thoughts. The silver of her taloned nails hover just above his flesh in a subtle promise that one wrong word or action would bring with it a piercing, albeit manageable, pain.

He complied with the small tug upon his shoulder, the Alpha turning from the mirror to face her. Her gaze seemed to deviate from the earring he now wore, shifting down to the muscular plains of his chest in clear contemplation. Her fingers moved deftly across his skin, the silver just narrowly avoiding his flesh as she scooped up the dainty chain of the phoenix necklace he wore. She pulled at the chain just enough for Tetradore to feel it's tautness against the back of his neck. Her piercing gaze rose to meet his emerald irises as her question fell heavily from her lips. His brow rose as he regarded her, the Alpha entirely certain they both knew the answer to that. "No," Tetradore responded, entirely certain he was aware of exactly where that infernal leather material was. "It's at the bottom of the ocean with the rest of my boat." How...biting that tone was, goading, perhaps as he pointed out his lack of a collar was her own doing. Tetradore was well aware how much Risque despised such 'excuses', as she called them, and yet it wasn't as if any answer he gave would be well received anyways.

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