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

find your rest and be made whole


Posted on October 24, 2015 by isolt griffin
West

isolt griffin


Guilt is a self-made poison, brewed in the hearts and minds of those who find themselves deserving of its toxic sting. It is relentless in its burgeoning and malicious acid, unforgiving in the damaging blow of its metaphorical hand. And, so delicate is Isolt's heart, guilt lays its hands upon her in as deliberate a manner as can be, gouging her innards with its rapier claws. She fails to grant herself clemency, for could she truly have known that her friends were in any manner of danger... how could she have predicted such unforeseen violence here, at the very hub and heart of the territory to which they had laid claim? It was and remains still an impossibility and yet the redheaded woman grieves her absence in this moment as she had in many that had come before it. She laments her own inactivity when it had come to the Nightshade cache, mourns the time that had slipped from her fingers and seeks forgiveness for this self-proclaimed sin.

Forgiveness that comes a blessed lilt from her companion, though little does it change her facade. Guilt had burrowed itself down far deeper than even this could reach, its gnarled roots tangled within the very fiber of her heart. Isolt finds herself seated across from her companion, even know proffering up whatever assumed personal perimeter she is to be keeping from her ailing comrade. She nods bleakly. "Yes, I would have. You and Tetradore and Tobias might as well be part of my coven for as much as I care about you. I was so worried when I heard," she confesses, cerulean gaze falling to her own wrung hands for a time before she dared lift her eyes. It was truth in its purest form, Isolt having long since considered the trio to be just as much a part of her "family" as Damon and Chizue had come to be. She cared for them endlessly and completely, which caused the sting of her failure to protect them to be amplified all the more.

A small and helpless shrug rocks the youthful vampire's shoulders at the Were's rueful comment. "Sadly lips are loosened by the drink, so I hear quite a few things I'm sure people would rather I not when I'm around the pub. That and bad news travels alarmingly fast." This is all she seems able to offer by way of comfort, as miniscule and ineffective as it undoubtedly would prove to be. It is eclipsed, however, by the words she offers next. "Who was it that did this, Raven? Who is... Frost?"



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