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

safe to say that I can't recall; ANY


Posted on May 16, 2014 by avicus toryn
West



It reminded her of home. The detritus on the streets, the cardboard piled next to overflowing dumpsters. The poverty that hung in the air like a perfume, promising that this time the luck would change and they could move north, closer to the heart of the city, closer to the wealth they wanted so badly it tasted like hope. Between drags of their cigarettes and the diseases coursing their veins, she couldn't help but offer the world a private smile. Too caught up in misery to notice as she strode through, making twists and turns almost at random, Avi was certain she could lose anyone deciding to follow her. Not that she felt like much of a target, but the heavy motorcycle jacket over the skin-tight jeans suggested some sense of money, if not outright wealth.

Such lies.

A friend of a friend had suggested years ago that she find the city, find more of the strangers like her, someone to teach and shape the chaos she dreamed into life. Near misses and close calls with arson investigators, a stint or three in juvenile detention, eighteen-and-out. It didn't quite make sense how she wound up here, or how she's found the other girl's shop, but it was enough to know that a casual alliance had been made, along with the promises that she'd take care of her other needs. She just needed help with the... magic.

Freak. Outcast. Devil-child. Bitch. Hellspawn. Anything that could make her recoil, to vainly protest that the burn was an accident, she didn't mean to knock things over, she wasn't that clumsy! The taunts only got worse, resulting in physical violence not long after her body started to change, and her mind withdrew. No, not that she was crazy, far from it. But the curses muttered under her breath as she learned to fight back, honed her body against the violence surrounding her, they only served to recall angels, instead of the demons they claimed sired her.

A darkened garage sprang into bright relief as motion-detector lights caught her shadow, throwing it starkly behind her lean frame. Keys palmed from an inside pocket into gloved fingers, a turn and a click, she was inside, sending the accordion door rattling up in its frame, revealing the red streetbike stored inside. Technically she was squatting, but paranoia to protect what she'd claimed for herself drove her to change the locks, install the lights and vary her route often enough that she hoped to avoid notice. The squalor suited her, the silence was even more fitting, tumbleweeding garbage blowing through the alley at irregular intervals, silencing the brush of wings against her mind.

"Michael and Gabriel, this place is a wreck..."

Hissing quietly to herself, the fluorescent glare on the concrete spilling inside, frown deepening between her brows. The plumbing inside was long gone, stripped for copper and scrap, leaving only the broken fixtures and a still-functioning toilet, porcelain stained brown with age and hard water. No amount of bleach would make it clean again, and she'd given up trying. The industrial-flavored breeze drifted through the open bay door, even as she tried to focus her magic enough to light the scattered candles more than one at a time. The last time she'd tried, one had exploded and the others had simply gave up pathetic wisps of smoke until she'd admitted defeat. Perhaps it was a risk leaving the door open to let the musty garage breathe and she a barely-trained witch living alone. Perhaps it wasn't, and she'd make it through another evening mentally exhausted from pushing herself, but unscathed.

They would protect her, now that she'd found them, their tethers gripped tight in her metaphorical fists. She depended on their warnings for survival, never willing to admit that they didn't actually exist. It let her sleep through the nights.


avicus toryn

so let me take this medicine,
to quench my love for violent things

Replies