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

REGAN; feeling my way through the darkness


Posted on October 19, 2014 by ISOLT GRIFFIN
West

isolt griffin
Her chosen garb for the eve was significantly more downplayed than her usual touch of understated elegance; nowhere tonight was the delicate and gossamer fabric of one of the myriad dresses that colored her closet... instead dark and alluring denim stretched about lean and muscled legs. A hoodie, simplistic and dark, hung from her torso, a handful of wayward crimson strands escaping its confines in what might have been a revolt against this unusual subversion. And yet, for her activities this night, the uncharacteristic obscurity of her attire is warranted... needed for what she plans.

Isolt slips from the confines of her would-be sanctuary with the dancer's grace she had possessed in life; death having only served to further accentuate this and so many other qualities that might have once been only suggestions of her overall demeanor. Curiosity amongst them, for though the crimson-haired girl had always admitted some measure of weakness for the siren's songs that were her senses of curiosity and inquisitiveness, immortality had been veritable arsenic to this already-tindered flame. And so it was only rational that each new intellectual quandary was a whet stone to the blade of her officiousness. A blade that, tonight, pierced the equally-as-prominent miasma of her own self-doubt, the number of second guesses for once palling in comparison to the sensational itch that was Isolt's curiosity.

She had been cautioned, in some vague and wholly presumptuous way, that she should not traverse this particular boundary. That she, for whatever reason existed within the mind of its emerald-eyed proprietor, did not belong here. There was no place to be found for her here, no ethereal reward with which her venture might be endowed. But nonetheless Isolt finds herself drawing ever nigh to the once-abandoned cargo ship that sits as an archaic beacon against the creaking wooden dock. The Ark, it was called. Perilous and daunting it jutted towards the skyline, its exterior perhaps an homage to what lay within. A visual exhortation of what Tet had not desired that she experience. What he had not wanted her to see.

But crystalline eyes were, in fact, roving wearily over the steel monolith, an amalgamation of intrigue and anxiety swirling about within their depths. A writhing mass of a crowd pulsed about the ship's entrance, a single brooding gentleman bustling about near the only opening in some attempt to quail the chaos. Indecision marred the fabric of Isolt's shaded façade before the fledgling vampire ventured forward determinedly...


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