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

when you came in the air went out


Posted on February 07, 2023 by isolt marcello
West

isolt marcello

I'm more alive than I've ever been


The silence that follows her proclamation is so complete that it is nearly solid, an invisible yet no less tangible, impenetrable wall. Just as tangible is the movement that she can sense off in the darkened corners of the office- the redheaded woman can smell the posse of felines as they scurry about, can hear the whispers of their padded feet against the hardened ground, and feel at least a half a dozen sets of glistening eyes peering out at the pair of vampires from the shadows. Perhaps it is a much-diluted sense that she has inherited from the woman who looms above her. The woman who forces a single, perfectly-chiseled talon into the tender flesh behind her chin. It is not the nagging discomfort upon which she focuses, however, but her Maker's words- words far more poignant than the raven-haired temptress could have ever imagined. If only she knew how very close Isolt had been holding this rage- coiled about it like a viper protecting her most precious offspring. It was a part of her, and she carried it with her all of the time.

Revenge is a language I speak fluently.

If ever there had been uttered more of an understatement, Isolt had not heard it. Had the very act of her turning not been a direct consequence of the towering woman's affinity for revenge? Revenge against Tetradore- for what she had never quite been certain. And it is hardly a matter of conversation she cares to pluck at in this moment. In fact, it is this penchant for revenge that has brought her, nearly cowering, to the feet of her Maker- seeking this fluency from one who had mastered it in such brilliant fashion.

"Yes," she offers in a choked whisper, unable to proffer up much more given the exaggerated angle of her neck. She would, indeed, behave. This, she was good at, for she had been taught obedience tirelessly during her mortal life. This was a language in which she was fluent. This affirmation seems adequate enough for Risque to allow her greater control over her own head. At her Maker's questions, though, her eyes drop to focus on a point off in a darkened corner of the office. Her eyes strayed from the woman before her... and so did her mind.

Dark memories came flooding back as readily as if some manner of dam had broken within her mind, a cracked and fissured thing that had only just succeeded in holding back the darkness that had been her time with the New Eden. It takes mere moments for the memories to right themselves, coming into focus as if they were recollections from only yesterday. "When I was with them they were in the tunnels outside of town but... sometimes I would hear them talk about a place they called 'The Tower.' I don't know what that meant. And I only ever saw them once, that first day... they had me blindfolded the rest of the time. He's tall- at least six five- well-built with dark olive skin. His hair was dark, black, to his shoulders and he had tattoos all over his arms. Weird symbols, like runes almost. He's strong, almost as strong as a vampire." A shiver rattles its way down the young vampire's spine at the recollection of the man who had held her down that first night, the man who had "visited" her so many times thereafter to partake in the pleasures of her flesh. Her eyes squeezed closed as if this small movement might prove enough to banish these memories back to whence they had come. But she cannot banish them... not yet. "I don't know his name but he called her... Maya. She's an old woman, well into her nineties if I had to guess, hunched at the back, dull grey hair. And she's blind in one eye." The redheaded woman recalls the old crone's hands upon her, the roughness of advanced age and use and... something else. "I couldn't ever be sure but... I think she's a necromancer."

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