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
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

Aiden Tetradore

long nights in your car, mornings in your arms

Posted on March 17, 2022 by henry tudor

I will

rise up

in spite of the ache

Some asshole had decided that the weather today would be bleaker than any other day of the year. The thunder stormed loudly outside, the rain falling hard on Sacrosanct. Even out on the water the waves were thrashing against the yacht making it move and sway despite being anchored. Henry had wanted to go out and find something to do other than stay here. And yet...the weather made that impossible.

The last thing Henry wanted to do was be here in a place that bought up bad memories instead of good ones. Ever since the Ark had sunk, Henry had never felt like this place was home. It made him feel anxious and uneasy and he swore Tet did it on purpose just to be an ass to him. While the logical part of him said it wasn't really meant like that, the unrationed part of him that seemed to take over was more than happy to make him wish he had died a long time ago.

Instead of being able to eat his meager breakfast and leave the boat, Henry was forced to stay onboard and make something of his day. Once he had eaten, he decided the next best thing to do was to drown his sorrows and his anxiety in glasses of liquor. Was it the best idea? No. But at least he wasn't doing drugs. Sometimes you just have to be thankful for the little things.

He made sure to only wear socks so he might not be heard as he moved through the boat, careful not to draw attention to himself. The last thing he wanted was for someone to stop and try to talk to him. Positioning himself behind the bar, he pulled out a cup and then turned to the wall of spirits in the hopes that he might find something that called his name on this very special occasion of self-loathing.

Henry Tudor

I will rise a thousands times again