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
Her resolve was breaking with every look from Kohl and she knew it. With every word from his lips, pleading for them to stay together, for them to work this out, she knew in the end that she would give in cause truly, it's what she wanted more than anything, too. But she was stubborn and never gave in without a fight. She pushed him, even trying to make him think she didn't care about him the same way, that she regretted meeting him. She knew it would hurt but hoped it would sever their ties and made it easier for him to go the other way. But in the end, she always hoped he was stronger than that, and it seemed more and more that she was right. He told her that he was helping from the shadows, stopping Viktor's men from chasing her and even stopping them from getting too far when she was chasing them. It was hard to imagine him doing those things but she knew he wouldn't lie about it.
He even offered to explain it later. She found herself nodding almost absently, still in shock that he was doing all that without her knowledge. How did she not know? Sure, there were those instances where she swore she saw a glimpse of him or smelled his cologne but she just felt her heart aching in those moments and thought it was her heart and min playing tricks on her, torturing her for fun. He came to stand by her at the door, his arm barely brushing her own and she sighed, even in this moment finding contentment in his touch, even if she wouldn't admit it out loud. She tried telling him that there was nothing he could do, trying once more, desperately even, to push him away, making him see the helplessness of this situation so he'd let it go.
But once again he showed his inner strength and said that he wouldn't walk away, that she was his business. She couldn't decide for him. She snorted, unable to help herself. "Seems so." She finally admitted in a low voice, so full of defeat and yet her lips twitched the corners to show the hints of amusement she found in his own stubbornness. When she finally turned to throw herself against his chest, she wasn't surprised to feel his steady arms around her, holding her tight. She'd never felt so safe, so whole. He said that he knew and then he just let her get it out and it felt so good. Maybe this was what she needed all along. When he called her name, she hesitated before looking up, almost afraid of what he wanted to say.
But his words were not what she expected. He wanted to help. He wanted to do it together. He asked her to trust him and asked if she could do that. In answer, she felt a smile tugging at her lips as she wiped her eyes. "Doesn't seem like I have a choice. So yes....I can do that." Her eyes twinkled with the barest hints of humor as she pressed her cheek back against his chest and breathed him in. "Sorry for getting your shirt wet with my tears. Hope you don't get a disease or something." She couldn't help but add in, messing with his OCD nature.