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.
Bartender Raylin Chike
Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark appears to be little more than an abandoned cargo ship. 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
you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared
"Your next job, my pet," Ivan's dead smile curls around his lips, causing Vhalla to cringe inwardly away from him. How she despised this man and feared him. With one hand, she reaches out for the envelope that has all the information she needs on her next target while the other hand is still dabbing at the blood that trickles down her neck. Her master had just finished feeding from her and she knew full well why he never closed those wounds; he simply wanted to mark her so everyone else knew she belonged to someone else. It was disgusting. Giving a short nod of her head, she turns on a heel, tossing the bloodied cloth into a nearby wastebasket as she exits her apartment a shudder running the length of her spine as she feels his eyes on her backside.
Shutting the door behind her, she takes the envelope in her hand and tosses it onto the floor of the warehouse. Ivan had already told her exactly where her target was, she didn't need any more information. He was the were King of The Ark and why her master wanted him dead, he hadn't deemed her worthy to explain, she was simply to take out her target and not ask questions, like the good pet she was. Grimacing at the name, she exits her warehouse, drawing the hood over her white locks as she enters into the night.
The assassin is fully suited up, her hole, from the dark hunter, patched up with skilled fingers and both her daggers carefully strapped to her legs, another smaller knife hidden away in her boot. Her hair is in its usual tell-tale braid her face a mask of indifference as she prowls through the shadows, careful to avoid the busier parts of town. Vhalla even goes so far to use the rooftops to arrive at her destination unseen. Pausing in the shadows, she chose the early hours of the morning to sneak into The Ark, too early for even the earliest risers to be awake and too late for those night owls to be out. It was perfect.
Surveying the area, she's satisfied with how abandoned it feels as she quickly darts towards the cargo ship. The assassin is smart enough not to use the walkway, instead she drops down, underneath it, using what she could find as handholds to climb across until she's reached the deck. Dropping silently, she pushes herself into a small crevice as she quiets her breathing, listening for the sound of movement. She had been here once before, months and months ago, to watch the fights and how she wanted to join in and brawl with an animal. Tetradore had taught her it was much harder than it initially looked.
Furrowing her brows, the man continuously popped up into her mind unbidden. Something had changed in her after that night she played for him; she was confused and uncertain with herself. He was very much distracting and the man was hardly here at the present time and he still managed to invade her thoughts so completely. Snapping a wall up, she forces him form her mind; she needed to concentrate, lest she not return home at all because she was distracted by a man. Scoffing at her foolishness, she pauses a moment longer before making her way through the ship, successfully finding the floor with several nice vehicles. The garage.
That's where Ivan directed her to go, and so she did what she was told.
Observing the area for but a moment, she glances at the ceiling and the various hiding places. She expected this king to be of large stature and to put up one hell of a fight, she needed all the advantage she could get; especially fighting a shifter. Finding the nearest place to shimmy up, she crawls across the ceiling and places herself directly in the middle so she has a view of all angles, even in the darkness. Letting her eyes adjust to the gloom, she crouches on the beam, eyes narrowed as she attempts to make out the different vehicles below her to pass the time. It's only when the creaking of a door draws her attention, her entire body tensing in anticipation as a lumbering figure appears through the door, smoothly walking through the garage.
Slipping a dagger from one of her thighs, she grips it loosely in her hand as she watches the shadowy figure move closer until he's directly beneath her. Easing out a silent breath, she drops on top of him, her weight colliding with a surprisingly well muscled figure. A grunt escapes her as she brings him to the ground, her dagger poised in a position where she would not harm him, yet. Silently, she grapples with the man as he is far larger than her until her hood falls back revealing her stark white hair in the darkness. Her icy eyes harden as her dagger is knocked from her hand but still she fights on, finding herself atop the man and it is only then that she notes the familiar curve of shoulder, those curly locks of hair and those emerald green eyes.
Mouth gaping, she pauses long enough to give Tetradore an opening to knock her off of him. "Tet?! What the fuck?!" she snarls as the wind is knocked from her.
To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered