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.
Cull & Pistol
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.
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.
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
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
She's not a vampire; that much, I know. And yet she's not human. A witch perhaps? But she's trained in stealth and carries weapons on her. I can smell the steel of daggers hidden who knows where on her person. I may be messing up her mission or whatever but I was bored. What else is there to do? I wonder how long she's been up here. The breeze feels good and it's not like I'd feel the temperature because you have to be alive for that. I can tell she doesn't look altogether happy to be up here. Maybe it's a lame mission or not what she planned on doing tonight? Maybe she's just impatient and wishes she was already down there killing someone.
My eyes twinkle with amusement as she goes to reach for her blade when she notices me and I tilt my head patiently, a lazy smirk tugging at my lips. But then she seems to think better of it, her hand relaxing back at her side. My brow arches up, noting the positioning of her hands as she replies. "That's alright, it's overrated anyway. The real entertainment is out here, especially when the sun goes down."
She looks over at me and I offer a teasing wink. At her question, I shrug lightly. "Not really. Nothing good on HBO." She looks over at me, seemingly thinking something over before color drains from her face. My brow arches up again, watching the emotions play across her features before she asks if someone named Brullo sent me. My head tilts. "I work for no one, sweetheart. Don't you worry your pretty little head."