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

from five hour calls to nothing at all

Posted on March 21, 2022 by henry tudor

I will

rise up

in spite of the ache

He had just managed to pull down an already opened bottle of whiskey when he heard Tet's voice behind him. He had been mostly avoiding the other were (well, all people really) just because he didn't want to deal with his criticisms or comments. He didn't want to be made to feel guilty for his lack of help around the place or his lack of presence at all. But perhaps most of all, he wasn't going to start a fight with him over picking a fucking yacht of all vessels to support the family business. It wasn't worth the effort.

He reached for a second glass, pouring them both a glass, his own a little more full than the other. He slid it across the bar, the glass sliding with the rocking of the boat and landed just before his maker. "It's five o'clock somewhere." He was mostly left to his own devices and most of the time wasn't given any trouble.

There were only a few people who knew the hobbies he had been trying. He had tried fishing, poor Carolina had to witness that one. He'd tried golfing and knitting, painting and writing. Hell, he'd even tried running and reading. Nothing seemed to take his mind off how shitty his life was.

He sighed, bringing the glass to his lips and enjoying the burn of the alcohol as he tore through his esophagus. "Why are you wet?" Not that he really cared about the answer. Then again, maybe it would give them some sort of anchor for conversation. It seemed like they had nothing in common anymore...not that they really had any to begin with.

Henry Tudor

I will rise a thousand times again